by Claire Adams
“Thanks.” I kept my eyes on the floor so I didn’t have to look at him.
“You’re working it. It’s that magic pussy.” His eyes rested right between my thighs. It felt like a cockroach falling down my chest. I tensed up.
“You got yourself another client,” Tony said.
“Really?” I met his eyes.
“Uh-huh. They want you there in an hour. You’d better go get yourself cleaned up.”
“Oh, really? You don’t think I look good in this?” I spread my arms to give him a look. He nodded and smiled. “Yeah?” I stood up, bit my finger, and took a step closer. “You like this?”
“Yeah, mama, I love it.” He grabbed his crotch.
I kicked his chair, and he fell off the back, straight on his ass.
“What are you doing?” he cried.
“I’m not working with any other clients, asshole,” I snapped, fuming. I had already made this clear to him.
He looked up at me dumbly from the floor. “You’ll work with whoever I say, ho.”
“Fuck this,” I said. “We’re done. I quit.”
I turned to leave. He lunged forward and tried to grab my ankle. I kicked him right in the nose, and he shrieked in pain.
“That’s all you get,” I spat and walked out.
Chapter 23
Jake
Montenegros was the kind of place that everyone wanted to go to. It had the right look, with bare brick walls and white globe lights hanging up around the room. It was nothing special, just overpriced pasta and sandwiches with trendy ingredients. I had a booth set up in back for business lunches, so I could take clients out.
We were opening up a chain of restaurants in Japan. They had a new trend where they embedded deep-fryers in the tables and brought out platters of meat, so you could batter and fry individual pieces. It was impossible in America. They wouldn’t have allowed it, and I was concerned with the health risks. Somebody was going to get hurt, but it was taking off in Kyoto, so the board sent me out to speak with the owner of a small chain.
I could see him coming in the front door, wearing a sleek black and white suit, hair parted to the side. He carried a briefcase. He was young, stuffy, and looked around the room as if something smelled. I liked the idea that he was uncomfortable.
When he caught my eye, he moved past the podium and walked back to where I was seated. He moved slowly. I could tell he was waiting for me to stand up, bow and lick his shoes, but I’d learned a long time ago that avoiding all that would catch him off guard, so I waved.
He balked, just enough that I could barely notice, then moved faster to take a seat. “Are you Mr. Ryan?” He reached out a stiff hand for me to shake it. I motioned for him to sit down.
“Sato, right?” I knew exactly how to address him.
“Sato-sama, yes.” He pulled his hand back awkwardly and sat down.
“Sato-san?”
“Sama,” he corrected. ‘San’ was too casual for business meetings.
“So.” I waved my hand across the table. “What do you have for me?” A completely disarming question.
“I, uh,” he stammered. He lifted his briefcase on the table and opened it to pull out his laptop. “I have six restaurants in Kyoto.”
“Right.” I nodded. “How much are you making?”
“Three million every quarter.”
“For each restaurant?”
“No, total.”
“In US dollars?” I had to keep pressing him.
“Yes,” he said.
“And your overhead? Where did you get the three million?”
I could see him getting confused. “It takes $75,000 a quarter to run each restaurant.”
“That’s very high.”
“Yes.” He nodded.
The waitress walked by. I motioned her over. “Have a beer, Mato.”
“It’s Sato-sama.” The waitress stared at him. “Oh, yes. I’ll have a beer, thank you.”
“So, what are your plans for the business? What direction would you like to take it in?”
He gave me a blank stare. “I’ll have to look into that.”
“Okay.” I laughed. It was time. “How much of a stake are you looking to sell?”
“Twenty percent.” He was fast.
“I’ll be pouring a heck of a lot more than that into the company. I’ll tell you what, you sell me rights to the name, and I’ll do 30.” The waitress came and set our beers down on the table. I waved her away.
“I can’t sell.” He stared down at the sweaty green bottle.
“And why not?” I took a sip and sat back, totally casual.
“I started my restaurant in a cart, then a kiosk. Now I’ve got something. I want to have control of the company.”
“And you will, but you’re missing the big picture.” I softened and added a sympathetic tone to my voice. “You can’t expand with your current sales. As soon as you sign the paper, I’ll pump 10 times more money than you’ve ever seen into that place. When I do, I’ll leave everything the way it is. All I want is the name.”
“Okay.” He said. “I’ll get the papers together so we can sign them.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “This is going to make you rich.”
In 10 years, he’d have a posh apartment overlooking the Tokyo skyline and a driver picking up his coffee in the morning. That’s what I did for people.
I took small businesses and gave them the exposure they deserved. The owners were guaranteed to be millionaires. He was making a good deal.
We went over the numbers and the branding. He needed marketing badly, so I gave him the number to our marketing division and promised to send somebody out to Kyoto. We’d be opening doors on new restaurants all throughout East Asia.
Once he found out what we were going to do, he chugged his beer and insisted on buying us both shots of sake. It was traditional to spend the evening together, having dinner and drinks, but I wasn’t a traditional man, and I hadn’t seen Mercedes since the night we went to the gala.
The second he left, I hopped into my luxury sedan and tried to call Mercedes. When she didn’t answer her phone, I gave Tony a call.
“Hey, what up?” he said when he answered. “You looking for something sexy? Got some dark chocolate, Theresa and Monet. They come as a package deal.”
“I just want to see Maria.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “That bitch is gone.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Dude, she came up in here, like oh, I want you, baby, trying to get with this. You know how them girls are. They let you do anything for them so long as you break out with them.” He clicked his tongue. “I told her to kick rocks, and she started screaming, saying how she thought I wanted her. It was pathetic.”
“Tony, don’t give me that crap. What happened?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Listen, you only have five customers, and not one of them calls you like I do. I pay for that nasty house of yours, and all the drugs you could want. Now tell me where she is.”
“Dude, I don’t know,” he said. “She didn’t give me her address.”
“What happened?”
“Just what I told you. I ain’t gonna lie to you.”
“No, you won’t, because I will come down there. Now this is your last chance. Tell me the truth.”
“I tried to send her to another client, but she didn’t want to go with nobody else. She freaked out on me and kicked me off my chair. Then she quit.”
“Did you hit on her?”
“I don’t do none of that.”
“I want to make something very clear to you, you pathetic excuse for a human being. You stay away from her, you understand?”
“Hey,” he squealed. “I don’t want no trouble.”
“Good.” I hung up and called Mercedes again. No answer. “Dammit.”
I punched the wheel and started the car. I flew through midday traffic without a care, toward th
e freeway and back home. I had to change.
I took out my phone when I got close to the house and punched in a number.
“Nicos,” a deep voice answered. “Try our new nachos, get a free churro.”
“They making you say that crap, Larry?”
“Yeah, you know. What’s going on? I know you don’t need a taco.”
“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me tonight at my place. What time are you off?”
“Now, if you want,” he said. “Is there anything you need before I get there?”
“No.”
I hung up and raced through the hills back home. When I got there, I ran up to my room to throw on a suit and take a shower. I had the kitchen staff ready a table out on the veranda and a bottle of wine with a cigar.
Everything was set up when Larry pulled up.
The sun was setting, staining the trees at the far edge of the property a midnight black, set against the orange skyline. I sat facing the back door, waiting. He was big, wearing a black pinstriped suit and a diamond earring. He wasn’t the kind of guy I normally dealt with. There was a raw edge to him. His eyebrows had lines shaved on the sides, and he had a line of facial hair trailing down his jawline.
“It’s been a while, Jake,” he said.
“It’s been busy,” I said. “Please, have a seat.”
He sat down across from me, and I poured him a glass of wine.
“How’s the family?” he asked. Larry always added a personal touch. It was a means of intimidation, and a good way to get close.
“They’re good,” I said.
He nodded. “Good to hear. So what’s up?”
“I need somebody found.”
“I can do that. Anything I should know about, first? I don’t want to be turning any heads, you know. I got a business to run.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No trouble. It’s a girl.”
“A girl?” He grabbed the cigar sitting in the center of the table. “Is she special?”
“No, it’s a business thing,” I said.
“You need her to disappear?” He lit the cigar and took a puff.
“Don’t even ask me that. I just need to know where she is.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I said.
He nodded. “Sounds simple enough, then. Get me the money, and I’ll get you the girl.”
“Half now.” I tapped a button on my phone, and a girl walked out holding a platter. She set it down on the table and opened it up. He leaned in and took a whiff of the cash.
“Fantastic.”
“How soon can you do it?” I asked.
“Right now,” he said. “Just give me a name, and I’ll call my people.”
I told him what I knew about Mercedes, which wasn’t much. He stepped away and made a quick phone call. Then he came back and sat down.
“You should have everything you need by the time I finish my cigar,” he said.
He puffed as long as he could and asked a lot of questions he didn’t have any business asking about Haylie, Elizabeth, and Andrew. He must have a list of names and basic facts he went over.
His cigar was burning low, and I got a text. It was Mercedes’s address. I gave him the rest of the cash, and he was gone.
Chapter 24
Mercedes
“What are you watching?” my dad asked. He stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, leaning on his cane. He wore a baby blue beanie over his bald head. I told my mother not to buy it. It looked like a baby cap, but he loved it. He folded it just right and wore it so that it hung down sideways on his head.
“It’s a game show,” I said.
“Hand me that remote.” He plopped down on the couch next to me.
I handed it to him, and he flipped through the channels until he found an old documentary about wolves. “You get older, you get into this kind of thing, you know.”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and watched a wolf run down a snow-covered hill while the narrator went over pack dynamics.
“You should go get us some cookies,” he said with a sly twinkle in his eye.
“I thought Mom hid those in the cupboard on top of the fridge. How did you get up there?”
“I didn’t,” he said. “She left my door open when she pulled them out of the shopping bag. I saw her hiding them.”
“You little snake.”
“Are you gonna get those cookies, or what?” he asked, grinning.
How could I say no? “One cookie.” I got up.
“Bring the box, and could you get me a soda while you’re in there?”
I pulled the cookies down and pulled two sodas out of the fridge. I walked back into the living room. “You know, Mom’s coming home soon. If she catches you with those, she’s going to be mad.”
“I’m a sick old man,” he said. “I can eat cookies if I want some damn cookies.”
I shook my head and handed him the box. Despite my protests, I was more than happy to let him have some cookies. Most days, his appetite was nonexistent because of the chemo. Getting any food into him at all was a blessing. He needed his strength if he was going to fight this disease. I didn’t care where that strength came from.
“I can’t take this wolf crap,” I said. “I’ll tell you what. I won’t tell Mom about the cookies if you let me watch something else.”
I grabbed the remote from him and changed the channel to a cooking show.
“Don’t do this to me.” He took the remote back and turned it to a pawn show.
“Oh, no. That’s not going to happen.” I reached for the remote, and he pulled it away and set it on the arm of the couch.
“You don’t get to choose,” he said.
“That’s not fair.” The doorbell rang, and he stuck his tongue out at me like he’d won.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Go check, sweetie. I’m the one with the cane.”
“All right,” I said and stood up. “There better be more than crumbs left in that box when I get back.”
“No promises,” he said with his mouth already full.
I answered the door. It was Jake. He was leaning against the frame, right next to the spot on the stucco where my mom used to put out her cigarettes. A weed curled over the top of his shoe, and I could see the yellow grass behind him.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he said.
“Nonsense,” my father said, appearing behind me. I had no idea how he’d moved so fast. He shot a wide grin at Jake. “Who’s this?”
I turned bright red. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Jake held his hand out for my dad to shake. “My name’s Jake, sir.”
Dad shook his hand. “Well, come on in, Jake. Can I offer you a cookie?” He stepped aside to let Jake in.
“Dad, please go back to the living room,” I asked, my voice strained.
Dad shrugged. “I just figured I should meet the guy my daughter’s dating.”
“Dad, we’re not dating,” I said.
“Well, if he’s not here to see you, does that mean Jake’s here to see me?” he asked with a grin.
My face burned a deeper shade of crimson. “Dad, please.” I felt like a teenager all over again.
“Fine,” Dad said. “Nice to meet you, Jake.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Jake said, barely suppressing a smile.
I was glad he was enjoying this because I certainly wasn’t. My father headed back to the living room. I pushed past Jake, walked outside, and closed the door.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“You quit and then disappeared, so I looked you up.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to see me once I got rid of Tony.”
“What happened with that fool? He didn’t do anything, did he?”
“No,” I said. “Not really. He wanted to send me to another client, which was not part
of the deal. I just had enough, so I pretended to like him and kicked him out of his chair. What’d he say?”
“That you tried to seduce him and he kicked you to the curb.”
“Gross,” I said. “He fucking wishes.”
“I’m so glad to be done with that moron,” he said. “It’s easier this way.”
A yellow station wagon pulled into the driveway. It was Mom. She took one look at the red convertible sitting out front and stared right at me.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go inside.”
Before I could get in the house, my mother called out, “Well, hello. Who is this?”
I turned around. “This is my friend.”
“I’m Jake,” he said and shook my mother’s hand.
“Nice to meet you, Jake. Are you staying for dinner?”
“No, he’s not,” I said and pulled Jake inside.
My mom pushed past us. My father waved at us from his spot on the couch. “You guys wanna take a seat? The show is getting really good.”
“No, we’re fine.” I pulled Jake into the kitchen.
“So how do you guys know each other?” My mom lit a cigarette at the kitchen table. She motioned to two empty seats across from her.
My bedroom door was wide open. I was tempted to make a dive for it, but Jake was already sitting down, so I sat down next to him.
“We work with each other,” he lied seamlessly.
“Really? So you deliver packages all day? Is it hard?” My mom took a puff of her cigarette.
“No, not really, and we make good money in tips,” Jake said. He was a genius.
“Tell me she’s not straining herself too much, is she?”
“Please,” he said. “Our job is easy.”
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” she asked. “I thought we’d make something nice and do it together.”
“I was thinking of taking Mercedes out this evening,” Jake said.
“We’re going out,” I announced and stood up.
She nodded. “That’s fine.” She shot Jake a menacing look. “But so help me God, if you hurt her—”
“Mom!”
“Okay, okay,” she said, waving us off. “Go have fun.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him out of the kitchen.
