Heart of Gold

by Michaela Haze

  “Sit down you two.” Julian balanced on the edge of his desk. Pushing some papers out of the way to make room. “This is the first time you’ve visited me at work, Rina.”

  I bit back a smile. Julian and Rina were closer than I thought.

  “Who’s your friend?” Julian winked in my direction. “Oh Snap! Harry from Julie’s Diner?”

  I nodded with a shrug. “Small world.”

  Rina cleared her throat as I walked to the velvet sofa in the corner and plonked myself down. I fished my phone out of my pocket and started reading from my Kindle app.

  “I need to talk to you about what you saw...” Rina's voice was raspy.

  Julian shot me a glance.

  “She knows.” My best friend assured him.

  Julian's cornflower blue eyes flicked back to my best friend and he ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Rina. That’s your business, love.” He said in a surprisingly tender voice. “If you're gay--”

  “I’m bi.” She corrected. “Just don’t... Don’t tell my dad, okay?”

  Julian nodded and reached forward. He pulled Rina into a hug and patted her head.

  “I'm here, okay?” He offered.

  Rina's smile was watery. Silent.

  “Anything you need. Beard. Chauffeur. Orgasm giver?” He winked.

  Rina punched him in the shoulder and said goodbye. I held up my hand to stop her.

  “I need to have a word with Julian; can I meet you in the car?” I asked her.

  Rina looked confused but nodded and walked off. The sound of her kitten heels on the hardwood floor echoed and slowly drifted into silence.

  “What can I do you for, Harry?” Julian seemed amused by the entire situation. “Need to ease some tension? I'm good at that.”

  I shook my head and waved away his flirting. He was worse than his brother. The only difference between Elliot and Julian was that Elliot would follow through. Julian flirted but there was something in his eyes, like you could tell him your darkest secrets and he’d never judge you.

  “I need a job.” I blurted out.

  “You have a job.”

  “A better paying job.” I corrected.

  Julian tilted his head to the side and raked his eyes over every facet of my appearance. The warmth was gone from his gaze and was replaced with a clinic detachment.

  “You got any experience on a pole?” He asked.

  “I’m a waitress.” I shook my head.

  “You're a bit small. Too small to be a dancer. But some guys like that. You’re over eighteen, right?”

  “Twenty-four.” I told him.

  “Shut the front door. You must get a lot of beauty sleep. You don't look older than twenty.” He shook his head and laughed to himself. “Waitressing here does pay better than a Diner. The tips are more.”

  I nodded.

  “You'll have to get used to guys making comments.” Julian’s eyes narrowed as if he expected me to object. I nodded.

  “Rina know you're asking?”

  “She’s not my Mama.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I need the money.”

  Julian nodded to himself. “Saturday night. Come for a trial. Two hours and we'll see.”

  I hated lying to Rina, but if wearing lingerie and serving drinks to bachelor parties was going to make enough money to get out Goldryn Bois and away from Mama's toxic mess, then I was going to do it.

  6

  I'd flown from Baton Rouge to New York and gotten back to my penthouse on 5th Avenue before breakfast.

  Back to my life, after dealing with the tittering masses and intricate social dance that came with small town life.

  Julian and Nate both owned businesses in Goldryn Bois but I had wanted to spread my wings. Julian was the proud owner of various clubs and bars; his strip club which he had named the Pink Sleeve was his favourite because the name always made Mother curdle like milk.

  Nate was a tattoo artist and the one responsible for the phoenix on my left shoulder blade.

  My personal assistant was frantic when I finally turned my phone on once I’d touched down in Manhattan. Poor Berry. Yes. Her name was Berry. Like Strawberry or Raspberry.

  She was not a red head though. Which would have been amusing.

  “The Gala for Bring Alice Home is tonight.” Berry reminded me. Her voice always grew higher in pitch the longer my silences were. I could tell I made her nervous. Everything made Berry nervous.

  “Did you buy two plates?” I asked.

  “Yes. Sasha asked what time you wanted to pick her up?” Berry's voice hitched as she tried to inject happiness in her tone.

  I didn’t know why she tried. Sasha Simpson was a bitch. She gave good head though.

  Rubbing my hand over my face, I imagined another woman with my cock in her mouth. A woman with dark hair and a sinful mouth.

  “Mr Gold, is that alright?” Berry punctured my teenage boy-esque fantasies.

  I made a not committal grunt which my PA took as a positive response and she hung up with a flowery goodbye.

  I sat on the end of my bed and kicked off my shoes. Pepper Potts. Pepper fucking Potts.

  She'd been on my mind all day.

  There was only one thing for it. I opened up Netflix, selected Ironman and decided that I’d put her out of my mind the second the film was over.

  Bring Alice Home was a charity run by Gerald and Kimberley Norde. Every year they held a Gala where they would spread awareness for their cause.

  It was one of the many charities that I supported and my calendar was full of events every other week. The paid plates at each one ran into the tens of thousands.

  Bring Alice Home raised money that went towards reuniting children who had been trafficked or kidnapped with their parents. The Norde family had lost their only child when she was about two years old. Stolen out of the back of their SUV whilst Mrs Norde put her groceries in the trunk. Over twenty years ago in Austin, Texas.

  I sat in the back of my town car, idling outside of Sasha's apartment overlooking Central Park. I was Elliot Gold of Gold and Penn Acquisitions, just as soon as I’d set foot back in the city. I took over businesses for a living; I was world famous for my parting words as I fired people. It paid to be ruthless. Billions. I didn’t do it on purpose and I wasn’t trying to be funny when I told people that they were laid off. There was a list of my comebacks on a blog somewhere.

  “I got a new car this weekend.”

  “You may have a new car, but you don’t have a job.”

  Most of the gaffs had been made when I was younger and joked to alleviate nerves.

  If Mother ever Googled me, then I wouldn't be able to sit down for weeks. She'd have spanked me into another universe.

  My work world was far removed from my small town life. It wasn’t an option to ride the subway in NYC. I had a bodyguard at all times.

  Wearing my tux, I flipped through the emails on my phone as I waited for my date to arrive.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, Sasha opened the car door and slid towards me. Her hair was arranged in an artful chignon that no doubt took hours to complete. I wouldn’t be able to put my fingers in her hair because of all of the bobby pins.

  “Elliot, darling. I missed you.” Her voice was a husky drawl and she licked her painted lips. Her green eyes flicked to my crotch and she couldn’t have been more blatant if she tried.

  “You missed my cock, you mean?” I said with a quirked brow.

  “That too.” She tittered a seductive laugh. Sasha reached out, her limbs moved like a drowsy feline as her hand sprawled across my thigh.

  “I saw your cover for sports illustrated.” I informed her. “Very nice.”

  “Did it keep you warm at night?” She leaned in and whispered. Her breath tickled the shell of my ear.

  I shivered for some reason, but not in the good way.

  I laughed in response and patted her shoulder. The car pulled away and my driver informed her that we would be at the Gotham Hall in ten mi
nutes.

  “What’s wrong?” Sasha said. She had manoeuvred herself into my lap but my cock was not playing ball. She could feel my lack of excitement.

  She slipped off my lap and knelt between my open thighs. Her hands gripped my legs as she licked her lips.

  “I bet I can make you cum before we reach Gotham Hall.” She leaned in, as if she was letting me in on a secret.

  Pepper's face flashed through my mind and I found myself shaking my head.

  “I’m not in the mood.” I said brusquely.

  Hurt slashed over Sasha's perfectly symmetrical features.

  “It's not you, my gorgeous girl.” I assured her. “I’m tired from the plane.”

  She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. The model slipped back into the buttery leather seat next to me and we rode to the event in silence.

  “You're originally from Louisiana, aren't you, Elliot?” Marshall Penn was on the board at Gold and Penn Acquisitions and Mergers. Marshall wore a thousand-dollar suit but stunk out his corner office with cheap ramen noodles on his lunch break. He was a strange man.

  I pushed my chair away from my desk. “Goldryn Bois.” I informed him with a grunt.

  “That delightful town between Lafayette and Baton Rouge?” Marshall raised an eyebrow in surprise. He leant against my door frame and took a step into my office. Marshall Penn seemed to glide everywhere he went, almost as if he was in a daze. He had a business sense unlike any other. He could look at any company and tell you if it was worth it.

  It was my job to make the rest happen.

  “Why do you ask?” I gestured for Marshall to take a seat.

  He pushed the back of his suit jacket out like he was wearing tails, but I’d grown used to Marshall's eccentricities.

  “I have an opportunity that I’d like to discuss.” His eyes were always wide, like he was permanently surprised.

  “Go on.”

  “Tallahan and Toole have pulled out of a large real estate deal in Goldryn Bois. They've started construction just outside of town for a shopping mall.” Marshall nodded to himself. “Very lucrative. The nearest mall is about fifty miles out on the 603.”

  “Is it just the land?” I asked.

  “Building work has begun but Tallahan and Toole are shopping around for someone to buy the rights. They're going under.”

  “It sounds good but I'd have to look at the paperwork.” I told him.

  Marshall stood up abruptly with a stiff nod. “It’ll take you back home for a few months if you want to spearhead this thing?”

  I picked up my pen and rolled it between my fingers. “I’ll let you know.” I assured him.

  My door clicked shut as Marshall left. I rocked back on my chair and faced my floor to ceiling windows.

  Did I want to go home?

  My intercom beeped. It was Berry.

  “Mr. Gold, I have your brother on the line.”

  “Put him on.” I informed her.

  Julian’s jovial voice rang out in my tastefully minimalistic office. “Yo, brother.”

  “Julian.” I replied shortly.

  “How’s the Windy City?”

  “That’s Chicago. New York is the Big Apple.”

  Julian clicked his tongue. “I have some news.”

  “And it deserved a phone call instead of a Facebook update?” I teased.

  “I'm getting married,” He informed me. “To Rina Langley.”

  7

  3 months later

  Somehow, I had always known that I had been broken.

  I couldn’t even eat strawberry jelly for Christ’s sake. The colour red reminded me of the splatter on the wall after Pop shot himself in the mouth and covered the walls of our home with his brain.

  We'd been a happy family until then. With a tire swing on the tree and a dog called Bruno who used to steal Mama's panties from the hamper.

  Mama used to smile a lot back then, but when she was sad, her frowns were always directed at Pop. In the last few months before he killed himself, Pop couldn’t look at me and I had no idea why.

  I'd like to think that I had been whole before he'd died and that it was standing in front of him as he cried and stuck a pistol in his mouth was what broke me, but it wasn’t.

  How much I enjoyed my new life told me just what kind of person I was.

  I'd managed to procure an apartment five blocks away from the Pink Sleeve, in a place that didn’t ask for paperwork. Only cash on the first of the month.

  I couldn’t open a bank account, but I’d learnt my lesson when Mama had taken my money and I’d shelled out on a safe.

  Drug dealers hung around on the front steps, and the main lock on the entrance was broken; but, the inside of my little home was all mine.

  I didn’t have to clean up used condoms or worry that my food would disappear from my fridge.

  I was a waitress at a strip joint. Whilst I thought that serving drinks in my underwear was rock bottom, it wasn’t. My boss, Julian, was fiercely protective of his girls and no one could touch us. Bouncers hovered whilst I worked and I hadn’t felt threatened once.

  I made enough money, now that I wasn’t subsiding Mama, to eat three square meals a day. The first few times I’d eaten enough to make me vomit.

  Strangely enough, I felt pride every time my belly was full.

  It had only been a few months but eating every day meant that my boobs were bigger and I could fill out a pair of jeans. Superficial, but I drank in the male attention that I’d never had before.

  The music was slow and rhythmic, a promise of what to expect when the dancers came on stage. The patrons were few and far between because the sun had only just set but there were a few bachelor parties booked for later in the evening.

  I stocked up the flyers on each of the tables and wiped them down. Each of the tables was bathed in a purple light, but a button rested in the centre of each of the circles that changed the colour of the light to pink. It was a nifty way to inform the servers that the table needed something, although it was still my job to make the rounds and ask.

  I saw him at the bar, hunched over and slinging bourbon like it was going out of fashion. His short raven hair looked like he'd been running his hands through it all day. Or someone else had.

  It had been three months since I’d seen Elliot Gold.

  And he'd never known my name.

  It was just as well, because men like that didn’t settle down with minimum wage. And even if they did, I’d be labelled a Gold digger for the rest of my life.

  I didn’t want that.

  With a round tray in my hands, I leaned on the edge of the bar with a round tray in my hands, Missy as she whipped up another tumbler of liquor for the thundercloud in a thousand dollar suit.

  “You look sad.” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Elliot held up a finger for another drink and Missy managed to shoot me daggers at my lack of verbal filter before turning around to get out the top shelf liquor.

  “I am fucking sad.” He growled.

  “You’re in the right place.” I gave him a conspiracial wink. “Boobs always make people happy.” I gestured at the club around us.

  Missy slid his drink over to him. I looked at the napkin that she's put down as a coaster. Her name was written in black Sharpie with her phone number. Madam Grumpy was trying to get herself some. I couldn’t begrudge her for that. He was hot, even though it looked like someone had pissed in his Cheerios.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to the curvy bartender. “Two makers marks and a G&T, please?” I asked her. Missy always looked like she was sucking a lemon, and rarely spoke unless it was to put someone down.

  Despite that, I liked her. She was hardened and had a story to tell. Not that I was brave enough to ask her.

  Elliot drained his tumbler and screwed up the napkin with her phone number on and dumped it into the glass. “Can you get my brother?” He asked me. I nodded as Missy slid my drinks tray over the bar an
d I disappeared to find Julian.

  Elliot Gold waited until I had distributed my drinks order and followed on my heels as I led him to Julian’s office in the backroom. The fact that Elliot did not know where his office was meant that he didn’t come to the Pink Sleeve often.

  That thought made me stomach glow.

  I was unable to make conversation around Elliot. He was a silent man on a mission and I did not even register on his scale.

  Part of me. The Cinderella fairy-tale—pie in the sky girl, thought that he would sweep in with my flamingo mask in hand and whisk me away. Proclaiming us to be soulmates and telling me that he couldn’t live without me.

  The man did not even recognise me.

  I knocked on the door and led Elliot through. My smile was tight as I stepped away. He grunted his thanks and turned away without a how do you do. I didn’t even warrant his attention.

  I'd gained the favour of one of the Gold brothers for a night but I was only worthy when I had been wearing a designer gown and spreading my legs.

  I should have known.

  I chuckled at the knowledge that Elliot Gold had fucked minimum wage. Something he was so clearly against. I ignored the pang of my broken heart, and told myself that I had gotten one over on the infamous Iceman.

  Even though I had just experienced his cold shoulder.

  Julian called through to the bar about an hour after Elliot had disappeared into his office. The strip club was in full swing, with dancers on the poles and dollars in G-Strings. The scent of sweat and perfume was comforting. Different from my life before.

  I balanced the tray in my hands. A bottle of Glenfiddich Blue and two glasses. One with ice (for Julian) and one without (for Elliot).

  I knocked on the door and turned to my side to push the door open without the use of my hands. Julian leaned across and held it open for me.

  “Harry, can you make sure the private room is booked out next Thursday?” Julian asked kindly as he took the tray from my hands.

  “Yessir.” I winked.