by Linda Verji
What did that mean? He glanced at his clothes; a finely tailored Brioni suit, equally expensive shirt and tie, and Paul Smith dress shoes. Oh, he got it now! However, her request presented a problem. “My stylist does all my shopping, and she doesn’t buy anything that isn’t name-brand.”
“You have a stylist?” Amusement glinting in her eyes, she shook her head. “Why am I not surprised?”
Though he knew he shouldn’t have anything to be embarrassed about - many men in his position had a stylist - he nevertheless felt compelled to defend himself. “I’m a busy man.”
“Okay, Busy Man. Ask your stylist to get you something cheaper. You can do that, right?”
“I can.” He paused then asked, “Where exactly are we going?”
“You’ll find out this evening.” She grinned.
“Not even a hint.”
“I’ve already said too much,” she teased him with the words he’d used on her earlier, drawing a chuckle from him. She continued, “You don’t have to worry that someone will see us out together and get the wrong impression.”
Damn! He hadn’t even thought of that.
“I’m taking you someplace where nobody knows you, and even if they do you’ll be in disguise,” she assured. Scrunching her nose as she studied him, she said, “I’ll bring the beard.”
His eyes nearly fell out of his face. “I’m wearing a beard?”
“Duh! What’s a good disguise without a beard?” She narrowed her eyes as she gave him a piercing once-over. “We’ll probably need cap too. What do you think about a cowboy hat? Or are you a sombrero man?”
“No.” He chuckled. “A cap will do just fine.”
“This is what happens when you work with amateurs.” She shook her head even as her lips twitched. “Fine. A cap for you. Lose the glasses too. You have contacts, right?”
Now, he was intrigued. “I could find some.”
“Nice.” She grinned. “I’ll call for you when I get to the parking lot and you can sneak out through the kitchen and come meet me.”
“I don’t need to sneak out. This is my hotel.”
“But sneaking is much more fun.” Her grin widened and her eyes danced with unfettered excitement. “Ooh, I can’t wait for tonight.”
NEITHER COULD HE.
He spent the whole day trying to figure out London’s plans, with no success. She was so unpredictable that it could be anything from a séance to bungee-jumping off the Empire State Building. When he couldn’t figure out her plans he called her, but she was as irritatingly close-mouthed on the phone as she’d been in his apartment.
As a man who liked his every move planned out, surprises weren’t his thing. He spent the whole day in a jumpy mood, getting even more nervous the closer to ten it got. More than once, he picked up his phone to call her and spin her some excuse about being caught up with work. But he knew that London was perceptive enough to figure out that he was lying and assume that he was being a coward. The last thing he wanted was her thinking him a coward.
At precisely ten, he sat in his living-room, toying with his phone and waiting for her to call. Ten-fifteen - she didn’t call. Ten-thirty - no call. Ten-forty, he called her.
“Give me five minutes,” she rushed in the moment she picked up her phone. “Five minutes.”
Five minutes turned into ten, then into fifteen. If Zeke didn’t already know of her legendary late-coming ways after working with her on Nathan’s wedding, he would’ve been royally pissed off. Frankly, he was surprised when she finally called at seventeen minutes past eleven. He’d expected to wait until at least midnight.
“I’m at the parking lot,” she said. “Forest green Buick Wildcat.”
Zeke picked his jacket and left his apartment. Minutes later he was regretting not taking London’s advice to sneak out through the kitchen because several guests stopped him at the lobby. By the time he exited the hotel he’d wasted a good fifteen minutes that he could’ve spent finding out what she was up to.
He found the Wildcat easily enough. There was no other car that was as beat up or as old as it was. How that car had managed to get here without breaking down was a miracle. But that was the least of his concerns when he slid into the front seat. His eyes almost fell out of their sockets when he saw London. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“This?” She smoothed her hand over the strikingly bright magenta dress that started low enough to exposed the tops of her pert breasts and stopped high above her thighs. “Nice, right?”
His cock certainly appreciated the dress and the sexy curves it clung to so seductively. Even so, he asked, “Where’s the rest of it?”
She laughed, before giving him a similar once-over. She was not impressed. Gesturing, at his outfit she shook her head. “That is not going to work.”
“Why not?” he protested, looking down at his sports coat, shirt (with no tie by the way), khakis and loafers. He looked extremely casual in his opinion.
“You look like you’re going for lunch at the golf-club.” London reached into the backseat and came back with a bag. “Luckily I came with alternatives.”
She rifled through it and came up with a denim shirt.
“I’m supposed to wear that?” He did not wear denim anything.
“Yes.” London pulled out a black t-shirt from her bag. “With this.”
“London, I-”
“Just wear them.” She shoved the clothes at him.
He grimaced as he shook out the tops.
“Chop, chop, Cinderella,” London teased. “That dress isn’t going to wear itself.”
Ignoring the jibe, he asked, “Where am I supposed to change?”
“Here,” she said evenly.
“Here?”
“Yes, here. I’ve seen male chests before.” Her eyebrows hiked up, she teased, “Or are you scared that I’ll see your man-boobs?”
Zeke would’ve protested that assertion but London was already rifling through her bag of frightening costumes again and ignoring him. Reluctantly, he shrugged out of his coat then his shirt. It was unnerving to be half-naked in her car but thankfully, her attention was fully focused on pulling out the rest of his costume from her bag. He pulled the v-neck t-shirt over his head and smoothed it over his torso.
“This is too tight,” he complained. The fabric clung to his upper chest like it was trying to merge with his skin.
She looked up from her bag and shook her head. “No, it’s the right size for where we’re going.”
He made a face. “I look like Justin Beiber.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She laughed as she held out what he suspected was his beard but looked more like a mouse’s nest.
“No.” He shook his head.
“You’re wearing it.” Her voice brooked no argument as she shoved the beard into his chest. For such a small person, she could be quite authoritative. “Look what I got you.” She waved a gray flat-cap at him. “You’re going to fit right in.”
“Fit right in where?”
“You’ll see.” With a secretive smile, she started the car.
Thirty minutes later, he found out exactly why he was dressed the way he was.
“I’m too old to be here,” he protested as they stood in line at Dirty Hypnotiq waiting for the bouncer to let them into the night-club. Around them scantily clad young people milled, oscillating between chatting to each other, taking selfies or typing on their phones.
London grinned. “No one’s too old to be here.”
CHAPTER 10
Dirty Hypnotiq was packed.
There were so many people that London had to cling on to Zeke’s hand so she wouldn’t be swallowed up by the crowd. Blinding strobe lights flashed around the space sweeping over the revelers, while music so loud a deaf person could hear it throbbed from the overhead speakers. The smell of alcohol, sweat, and excitement hung in the air like a seductive perfume urging everyone within the club to let go and forget about their troubles tonight.
London pinched Zeke’s arm. When he shot her an irritated look, she lifted up on her heels to reach his ear. Because of his height he still had to bend slightly so she could yell at him, “Lighten up.”
“What are we doing here?” he returned.
“Research,” she yelled.
He swept the crowd with his severe gaze before returning to her with a look of pure disbelief.
“Come.” She linked their fingers and led the way towards the long bar at the far corner of the club.
Even though there were speakers all around the club, it seemed to grow a bit calmer and quieter the further away they moved from the dance-floor. Tugging Zeke along beside her, she searched the crowd looking for her guy. When she found him at the turntables high above the crowd, she turned to Zeke with a smile and pointed upwards. “That’s who we’re here to see.”
Zeke followed her gaze. When he saw who she was pointing at, his brow furrowed. “Isn’t that Saif?”
She nodded as she clambered onto a bar stool. The barstool was high enough that she was much closer in height to Zeke. She squeezed Zeke’s arm as she explained, “He deejays here part-time - kind of like the way Gil does.”
It took him a while to realize that she was talking about his Gil. “That’s why we’re here?”
She grinned. “You remember that scene where Gil’s in the club and those girls come to buy off him?” When he nodded, she continued, “I thought you might like to interview a real-life deejay and do some firsthand research about what it would really feel like to be in a club.”
“I know what it fee-” He paused to stare at her. “Are you saying that that scene wasn’t believable?”
“It was,” she hedged. Then when he gave a skeptical look, she confessed, “Most of it.” She leaned forward to say, “But you had a place where Gil’s whispering to Becks - there’s no way anyone can whisper with this loud music.”
“Then why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“I didn’t want to bruise your ego. You’re kind of a delicate flower, you know,” she teased as she bumped his shoulder. “Plus I wanted to see how you party.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t what?”
“I don’t party.”
“Now, you do.” She raised her hand and waved for the bartender to come over.
ZEKE COULDN’T BELIEVE that he was actually in a night-club. Of course he’d expected London to take him somewhere he’d be out of his depth, but this place was on another level of unexpected. The intermingled smells of smoke, alcohol, sweat and too many people assaulting his sense should’ve been horrible. The too-loud music ripping through the dimly lit space should’ve been irritating.
But interestingly enough, it wasn’t.
Hmm. Maybe it was just the stiff glass of bourbon London had pressed into his hand a couple of minutes ago that had muffled his ability to be irritated. Nah! More likely it was because he was here with London. She had the innate ability to make him feel happy and excited no matter where they were.
“Saif’s coming our way,” London yelled into his ear as she pressed her palm to his thigh. Her touch had its usual effect, everything in him flared in awareness and swelled in anticipation of her moving her hand just the slightest bit higher. Shoving the wicked thoughts aside, Zeke turned in his barstool to watch the steadily approaching Saif.
Saif’s eyes were glued on London, as was the smile dancing on his lips. Zeke’s insides immediately tightened in protest when London smiled back at the guy. Saif was exactly the kind of man women like London dated; men who fit in effortlessly with this crowd with their cool hairstyles, hip clothes and ‘You Only Live Once’ lifestyles. Yet, the thought of London being with this man - with any other man - was enough to make Zeke feel - feel….
Hell! He didn’t know how he felt. All he knew was that he wanted London to stop grinning at the other man. Instinctively, he reached across their seats and curled his arm around London’s waist. She shot him a curious look but before she could say anything Saif reached them.
“You didn’t tell me you were dropping by,” the man said cheerfully as he came to a stop in front of them.
“You know how I like to surprise you.” London chuckled, arching upwards to hug Saif briefly.
It took everything in Zeke not to snatch London back, and even more effort to nod at the other man in greeting. “Hey.”
“Hey, man,” Saif leaned in as if to hug Zeke or maybe it was to ‘dap’ as Zeke had heard it was called, but it ended up as a cross between an awkward hug and a stiff handshake.
Her voice and expression heavy with thinly veiled amusement, London introduced, “Saif, this is my friend, Gil.”
“Gil. Gil. Gil.” Saif’s brow creased as he gave Zeke a once-over. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”
“No, you don’t,” London rushed in before Zeke could answer. “Gil’s from out of town.”
“Hmm. I don’t know.” Saif frowned as he continued to watch Zeke. “Out of town where. Maybe we met when I was doing the club rounds last year?”
“That’s not possible.” London’s expression was deadpan as she said, “Up until last week, Gil was a monk. He’s been locked up in a monastery.” Saif opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but London beat him to the punch with, “In England.”
What! Zeke had to turn to hide his smile. This woman.
Before Saif could ask more questions, London launched in with, “Since he’s been out of circulation for so long, Gil’s trying to find out what job’s he’s qualified for. He was thinking maybe a deejay.”
“A deejay?” Saif gave Zeke a curious look.
Zeke finally spoke, “It seems like an interesting job.”
“It is. It is.” Saif nodded slowly. “An ex-monk as a deejay? You could make that your brand - you know. They’d come to see you for your dope background then end up staying because of your dope music. What kind of music are you thinking of playing?”
“Actually, I wanted to know what kind of music you play.” Zeke suggested, “It would help to get some tips from the master.”
Clearly flattered at being called a master, Saif started, “I’m actually into grunge but this crowd goes wild for the shitty hip-hop stuff that’s on radio. So that’s what I play a lot of – then sneak in some experimental stuff when they’re not looking.”
“That’s interesting.” It was. Zeke could already imagine having a scene with Gil ruminating over the stupid set he’s playing and cynically watching the crowd bop their heads to it. He asked, “So how do you prepare for a show?”
Saif started, “Well before every show…”
THE BOYS WERE getting along like a house on fire. When it came to music and deejaying, you couldn’t shut Saif up even if you paid him. Having a rapt audience like Zeke was a dream come true for him, and the men launched into a discussion of everything music.
Feeling that it was safe to leave them alone to their boring conversation, London wandered off to the dance-floor. Each note of the hip-hop music blasting around her was like a shot of adrenalin mingling with the alcohol in her blood-stream and exciting her senses. Her eyes closed and a small smile playing on her lips, she swayed to and fro to the music.
Hardly five minutes into the song, she felt a hand paw at her hip then someone shoving themselves against her. She whipped her head around to find a short, muscular, Latino man with slicked-back hair and clothing that was way too tight for a man, gyrating behind her.
“Wassup li’l mama.” He flashed her a gold-toothed leer as his eyes crawled up and down her body. Leaning forward, he yelled
into her ear, “You’re looking fly tonight.”
“Excuse me,” she said curtly before shuffling off - or at least trying to shuffle off.
“Where you going?” Latino Gold - as she’d decided to call him - pulled her back with a grip on her wrist. “Don’t you wanna dance with Carlos?”
“No.” She certainly didn’t want to dance to anyone who referred to himself in third person. London turned away but didn’t get far.
“Don’t go.” Carlos yanked her forward so hard, she ran smack into his chest. “You and I should get to know one another.”
“Let me go.” She shot him a glare as she struggled in his arms. But Carlos only chuckled as his hand trailed down her back to her…
“Hey!” Carlos yelped as he was suddenly plucked upwards then flung into a group of dancers. It took London a second to realize that it was Zeke who’d done the plucking and flinging. Judging by his stormy expression wanted to do even more damage to Carlos.
Instead, he turned to London. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She nodded walking straight into his arms. What was it about Zeke that he always ended up saving her? Not that she minded at all. There was just something about having a guy who could protect you that started butterflies in her stomach. His arms encircled her and he pulled her closer to his body. She was immediately surrounded by his warmth, his long, lean length and his sexy aquatic scent. However, before she could drown herself in him, a loud yelling yanked her back to the dance-floor.
“Yo, man?” Carlos emerged beside them, his face flushed with anger. “What’s your damage?”
Zeke turned narrowed eyes to him and said only one word. “Walk!”
Carlos looked like he wanted to say something more, but one look at Zeke tight-jawed expression and the little peacock turned on his blue high-tops and waddled off. Her lips twitching, London set her head back on Zeke shoulders and her palms on his waist.
She was glad that she’d worn her highest heels. Even though the top of her head still didn’t quite reach his chin, she could feel his muscular chest push against her breasts and his strong thighs pressing against hers as they swayed slowly to the fast music. That sweet contact and the electric heat of him was enough to send a warm tingle all through her. When his hand lowered to the small of her back while his other stroked her neck, a sharp pang raced directly to her pussy.
