Angels & Whiskey

by Kimberly Knight

“Damn. What’d I miss?” she asked, sitting in the chair that Paul vacated.

  “Nothing. It was weird. Gabe didn’t even say anything.”

  “Hmm,” she grunted. “Weird.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, why are you here?”

  “I just wanted to check on you and didn’t want to text or call in case Rich is monitoring your phone.”

  “Oh … I’m sure he is.”

  “I’ve been thinking …”

  I perked up. “Yeah?”

  “What if Todd and I took out a second mortgage on our house and gave it to you?”

  “What? Why?”

  “So you can leave town. You can pay me back once you get settled somewhere.”

  “B, it’s not gonna be that easy. Rich will find me.”

  “Then we need to kill him. I can’t take this,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I laughed. “We can’t kill him.”

  “I know. Figure of speech.” She waved her hand in the air to brush off the comment.

  “I gotta go get my nails done and be home in time for Rich’s event planner. Oh, that reminds me. He’s running for mayor.”

  Brandi’s eyes became huge. “Shut the fuck up!”

  “I know, right? I’m so fucking screwed.”

  “No, you’re not. No one deserves to live in hell like you. Verbal or physical is still abuse. I still think you need to go to the cops,” she whispered, leaning toward me.

  I knew she was right. But I couldn’t. I was too scared.

  I walked into Club 24 and my gaze immediately fell on Gabe and Paul at the front desk. My steps faltered.

  The receptionist looked up, noticing me. “Welcome back, Mrs. Jones.”

  I tore my eyes from Gabe’s back. “Thanks, Cassie. I have an appointment at the salon.”

  “Perfect.” She nodded.

  I could feel green and brown eyes on me as I started to walk to the salon. “Ms. Jones,” Paul reached out to stop me. “We forgot to get your name at Starbucks, so it’s good you came by. They do have an incentive program here.”

  I smiled. “Awesome, but really, it’s not needed.”

  “Nonsense. You get one hundred dollar gift certificates for each of us.” Paul gestured between him and Gabe.

  I perked up. Somehow I needed to turn the certificates into cash to save for my escape.

  “It’s true,” Cassie affirmed. “As long as they sign a year contract.”

  “We are.” My eyes shot to Gabe as he finally spoke. “Ms…”

  “Autumn. My name’s Autumn.”

  “Autumn referred us,” Gabe spoke.

  “I’m sorry, but I really need to get to my appointment. Can you do everything without me to get them signed up?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Cassie confirmed.

  “Start with Paul. I’m going to walk Autumn to her appointment,” Gabe insisted, stepping toward me.

  I pulled my head back in shock. “You are?”

  “Yes, ma’am. After you.” He motioned for me to start walking, but I hesitated before taking my first step.

  “You don’t need to walk with me,” I protested.

  “I need to ask you something.”

  I held my breath. I had no idea what he wanted to ask me. I didn’t know the guy and I was wearing my wedding ring, so I’m sure he knew I was married. “Okay.”

  “Please forgive me if this is overstepping, but I noticed the bruises on your arms and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I overheard your friend asking if you were okay, and you looked sad at Starbucks.”

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I just ran into a wall when I was drinking.” I shrugged, trying to play off the lie.

  He eyed me. “Both arms?”

  I looked to my other arm. “What can I say? I’m a wobbly drunk.” I laughed. No one had ever seen the bruises before—or commented about them. I was always good about covering them up, but I’d completely forgotten about them as I’d dragged my sweaty body to Starbucks.

  “Ma’am—”

  “Autumn. Please.”

  He smiled his intoxicating smile and I fought to suck in a breath. “Autumn. I know you don’t know me, but would you like to have coffee with me sometime?”

  I would. I really fucking would.

  I was tired of being pushed around by Rich—literally.

  I was tired of being screamed at.

  I was tired of fearing that one slip of my tongue would cause more bruises.

  I was tired—period.

  But at the end of the day, I was still married to Rich. And even though I was insanely attracted to Mr. Green Eyes, I couldn’t do anything about it.

  I held up my left hand, showing Gabe my ring. “I’m sorry, I’m married.” We stopped at the doors that led into the salon.

  “All right. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I agreed with a smile.

  “Thank you for telling us about this place.” He waved his hand in the air, motioning to the gym. “Have a nice day, Autumn.”

  My cell phone started to ring in my purse. “Thanks, you too.”

  He gave a tight smile as he turned and walked away.

  I answered Rich’s call after two rings.

  Chapter Six

  Gabe

  She sat near the window, the sun glowing behind her and casting a halo as if she were an angel. I did a double take, making sure what I saw was real—or who for that matter. But as I stared, I knew she was the same woman who smelled like Alyssa.

  Today her brown hair was pulled into a ponytail and she had on workout clothes. When I’d first bumped into her, she was wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair long; it had brushed against my hands as I steadied her.

  There was something about her that I was drawn to. It wasn’t because she brought back memories of Alyssa—this was different. I couldn’t look away from her as I felt my heart start to beat faster and nervousness coursed through my body.

  “What are you getting?” Jackson asked, bringing me out of my daze.

  “What? Oh …” I stepped forward and ordered my vanilla latte, then stepped aside, letting Jackson pay for it.

  “I’m buying you coffee?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.

  I shrugged. “You owe me.”

  “Fine. All right,” he huffed with a chuckle.

  As we waited for our coffee, I stared at the brunette angel. I wanted to go over and talk to her. Ask her for her name—smell her—but something was off. She didn’t have the same smile on her face that I’d seen the day before, but more of a solemn vibe and for some odd reason, it bothered me.

  I stepped closer, pretending to play on my phone as we waited for the barista to make the coffee. I was hoping she would look up at me. I wanted to see her smile again. I wanted to be the cause of her smile.

  The closer I got, the more obvious I felt I was being. In my line of work, I could talk to anyone. I had to. I had to make women feel comfortable. So I didn’t know why I was nervous.

  “We’re drinking here,” I said, reaching for my coffee that the barista set on the bar after calling our names.

  “We don’t have time to drink our coffee here,” Jackson whined.

  “Yeah, we do.” The brunette angel looked up, our fixed stares locking, but she didn’t smile.

  “No, we don’t.”

  I sat at a table near her, hoping that I could at least get her name. “Yeah …we do,” I gritted through my teeth.

  The brunette angel broke our stare and looked down at her salad. I looked her over, loving what I was seeing in her tight outfit. But that’s when I saw her arms. My stomach dropped. She had bruises on each as if they were from fingers wrapped around her biceps.

  “Oh …” Jackson said, finally understanding what the fuck was going on. “We do have time.”

  Jackson started to talk to her as I stared, sipping my coffee. I caught bits and pieces as my mind wandered, trying to figure out how I was going to find out
about her bruises. I was a stranger—she was a stranger, but I wanted to ask her as my protective side came out. I wanted to know who would hurt someone as beautiful as her. No man is to ever hit a woman, no matter how much they nagged, bitched or moaned. And if I ever saw a man hit a woman with my own two eyes, I’d kill him.

  “So,” Jackson whispered, leaning into me and bringing my gaze to him, “this the trigger?”

  I looked back at her. “Yeah.”

  I watched as they talked about Club 24. I wanted to interject, but I let Jackson take over, finding out all the details while I thought about how I was going to find out about her bruises. Maybe it wouldn’t be today. Maybe it wouldn’t be tomorrow. But if I saw more, I’d make sure she knew who I was and the same with the fucking asshole that was doing it to her.

  “Oh my God, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?” she asked. The girl who was with her the day before appeared at her side.

  “I wanted to check on you.” The friend looked over at us. “Am I interrupting something?”

  The brunette angel smiled. “No. Just having coffee and lunch.”

  We said goodbye … well, Jackson said goodbye. I was still too pissed at the sight of her bruises to speak.

  “Why didn’t you talk to her, you fucking creepy motherfucker?” he asked, buckling his seatbelt into the passenger seat.

  I cranked the engine. “Did you notice the bruises?”

  “What bruises?”

  “The ones on her arms.”

  Jackson thought for a moment. “I wasn’t looking at her arms.”

  “Well, she had them on both arms. Looks like someone grabbed her really hard.”

  “Damn,” he exhaled.

  “Look up directions on your phone for Club 24,” I said, putting my Yukon in reverse.

  “We’re doing that now? I don’t think—”

  “Yeah, we’re doing it now. She goes there and I want to see her again.”

  He smiled a big toothy smile. “You got it, Captain.”

  We found our way to Club 24, Jackson bitching the entire way that he was hungry. I was hungry too, but the coffee could tide me over until after we signed up for the gym. It wasn’t as if we were going to actually workout today. We had a long list of shit to do and work tonight.

  “Jesus Christ, it’s like a compound,” Jackson said as he looked around the massive space we’d just entered. “I guess they really do have everything.”

  “Hi, can I help you?” a woman behind the front desk asked.

  “We’re here to see about a membership. We were referred by …” I turned to Jackson. “We didn’t get her name.”

  “Shit,” he groaned.

  I turned back to the staffer. “Do you have an incentive program, Cassie?” I asked because if they did, I’d find the brunette angel and get her name. It was another reason to talk to her.

  “We do,” she confirmed. “If you sign up for a year, the person who referred you will get a hundred dollar gift certificate to use at our facility.”

  “Well, we gotta wait,” I advised Jackson as I turned to him. “It’s another reason—”

  “Welcome back, Mrs. Jones.”

  I watched as the brunette angel put on a fake smile as she spoke. I motioned for Jackson to get her name, figuring it would be more awkward for me to ask her since I didn’t speak to her at Starbucks. Fuck—I was creepy.

  “Ms. Jones,” Jackson said, reaching out with his hand to wave her down. “We forgot to get your name at Starbucks. It’s good you came by because they do have an incentive program here.”

  She smiled as she spoke. Still not the one I wanted to see again. “Awesome, but really, it’s not needed.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll get one-hundred dollar gift certificates for each of us.”

  “It’s true,” Cassie confirmed. “As long as they sign a year contract.”

  “We are.” I blurted. “Ms?”

  “Autumn. My name’s Autumn.”

  “Autumn referred us.” I turned back to Cassie.

  “I’m sorry, but I really need to get to my appointment. Can you do everything without me to get them signed up?” Autumn asked.

  “Of course,” Cassie confirmed.

  “Start with Paul. I’m going to walk Autumn to her appointment.” I stepped away from the desk and toward Autumn.

  “You are?” she asked, her beautiful, big eyes widening. I stared at them, trying to figure out the color. They weren’t brown. They weren’t blue. They weren’t green. They were a mixture of all three. They were beautiful.

  “Yes, ma’am, after you.” I motioned for her to start walking, but she hesitated.

  I asked her about her bruises. She lied. Most abused women did. I wasn’t going to push her. If her husband wasn’t helping her, then he was the culprit and I had every intention of finding out. I didn’t know why, but I was drawn to her. I wanted to know everything about her. She didn’t smell like warm vanilla sugar today, and that was okay. I wasn’t attracted to her because I thought she could mask my pain. I was attracted to her because she was the first woman to make me feel since Alyssa.

  I felt nervous.

  I felt happy.

  I felt for her.

  We signed up for a year with Club 24, had lunch at a hole in the wall Mexican restaurant and found a grocery store where we bought enough food to feed an army.

  By the time we put everything away and unpacked a few boxes at our new home, it was time to get ready for our dates.

  My date tonight was Michele. Luckily the date info in my back office only said that she wanted to meet up for drinks. I didn’t have it in me to role-play; pretend I was her boyfriend, her husband, her boss … her whatever the fuck she wanted. She only wanted a drinking buddy and, of course, whiskey was calling my name.

  I drove to the bar that she wanted to meet at. The job info stated that she’d be wearing a black dress, drinking a Cosmopolitan, and she had long, straight brown hair. As I walked to the bar, scanning it for her, I didn’t feel nervous. The nervous energy left after the very first date three years ago.

  I had to admit, the moment I saw Michele, I was attracted to her. But she didn’t make my pulse race. If she suggested we go back to her place or fuck in her car, I’d be down with it.

  “Michele?” I asked, placing my hand on her shoulder.

  “Gabe?” she asked, turning around on the barstool.

  I gestured toward her drink. “Starting without me?”

  She smiled warmly. “It’s my first one.”

  I slid onto the stool next to her, flagging down the bartender and ordered a Jack and Coke.

  “Whiskey man?” Michele grinned.

  “It’s my poison of choice, yes.” I laughed.

  “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.” She shuddered. “It’s gross.”

  “It’s not that bad when you’re used to it.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “Do you come here often?” I chuckled at my cliché line.

  “Sometimes for happy hour with my friends.”

  We made more small talk. I told her how I’d just moved from the Los Angeles area while she told me that she moved to Vegas ten years ago to try and make it in show business. We ordered another round of drinks and I inched closer to her, trying to give her the best experience possible. Women paid decent money for a companion for a few hours and we did everything we could to make them think they were the only woman we were thinking of.

  “Would you like another drink?” I asked, pointing to her empty martini glass.

  “Actually …” she bit her lip as if to entice me, “we have an hour left. Would you like to come back to my place for coffee? I live right down the street.”

  Oh, the good old coffee line.

  If you hire an escort, just fucking say, “Would you like to go back to my place and fuck?” I mean, seriously. Escorts are at your beck and call. It may not be plastered on the walls of our company because it’s illegal to pay for sex, but
if you’re feelin’ it, just come out and ask.

  I smiled, looking at her lips as she spoke. “Sure. I love coffee.”

  I followed Michele to her house. An hour wasn’t a lot of time, but with my job, we didn’t have to stick around and cuddle after—unless we still had time and they wanted to.

  “How do you like your coffee?” she asked, walking toward her kitchen as I closed the door behind me.

  “Michele.” I chuckled. “You and I both know I didn’t come here for coffee.”

  She smiled back with a nervous smile, averting her eyes as she asked, “So do we just start?”

  “Is that what you do with other guys?” I walked closer to her.

  “I don’t have much sex. Hence why I hired you.” She waved her hand, gesturing toward me.

  “No, you hired me for drinks. This is just a bonus.” Reaching up, I brushed her bangs out of her eyes so I could look into the blue irises.

  “This is—”

  I cut her off, bending down and sealing my lips over hers to calm her. She moaned in response, my hands cupping each side of her face as my tongue entered her mouth.

  “How do you want it?” I asked.

  She pulled her head back. “What?” She blushed.

  “Aw, it’s no time to get bashful. We’re gonna fuck now. How do you want it? Hard or slow?”

  “I … I don’t know.”

  “It’s all about your pleasure, sweetheart. So what is it? Tell me your fantasy.”

  What I’d learned from the three years as an escort was we were the boyfriend in public and the escort behind closed doors. Some only wanted the boyfriend experience. Some wanted to role-play. And some wanted to be fucked harder than they’d ever been fucked before.

  “I’ve always wanted to be fucked hard on the kitchen table,” she choked out.

  I smirked, reaching down and hoisting her up by her ass. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms around my neck as I walked to the kitchen in search of the table. “Lean back,” I instructed, setting her down on the table once I reached it.

  She did as I asked and I reached under her black dress, pulling her thong down and tossing it onto the floor. I could already smell how aroused she was. Running my hands up each of her calves to her thighs, she arched her back, moaning. I pushed her dress up, exposing her bare pussy, and licked my lips. Her eyes were closed as I reached out and ran two fingers down her folds and through her glistening juice.