Hard Cover

by Jamie K. Schmidt

  I just smiled at him and shimmied into my leather dress.

  Sighing, he put his tuxedo back on. “Why don’t you want me to see where you live? You’ve hidden the address too so I can’t find it either.”

  Looking out the window, I fiddled with the handle of my purse. “It’s very small and I’d rather be on the yacht.”

  “Why do I feel like you’re hiding something from me?”

  Because I am.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  I’m trying.

  “Just come into the store with me. You need to see this.”

  “All right,” he said.

  I knew Rory was pissed, and he didn’t deserve to be angry. I could only hope he understood when this was all over why I didn’t want to tell him. The limo parked outside the back of the store. I gathered up all my things and fumbled with my keys.

  “We’ll be right back,” Rory said to the driver.

  Opening the door, I flicked on the lights. I lingered in the doorway, looking for the cat, but I didn’t see her. Rory brushed by me and stood in my makeshift kitchen. “All right, what was so important that couldn’t wait until morning?”

  I took in a deep breath, grateful for the cool night air on my hot cheeks. “When I was with Jack he was in charge of the apartment. He paid for rent, gas, and electricity. I was in charge of cooking and cleaning.”

  Rory’s lips quirked.

  “What’s funny?” I asked.

  “It sounds like a very traditional arrangement.”

  “I’m a good cook and a neat freak. It worked out that I paid for groceries and made sure we weren’t overcome with ants and roaches.”

  “Okay. Why are you telling me this?”

  “So you don’t judge me about how this all went down.”

  “I’m not going to judge you,” he said.

  Just then the cat darted in and let out a large meow. “Finally,” I said, closing the door.

  Rory pointed. “What’s that?”

  “It’s my cat. She was a stray. I feed her and take care of her. She lives here and so—”

  “You have to get rid of the cat,” Rory said.

  I blinked at him, stunned at being interrupted. I was about to bare my soul to him and he got hung up on the cat. “What?”

  “Larry will shit a brick when he finds out.”

  “He’s not going to find out. Because you’re not going to tell him, are you?”

  “No, of course not. But cats piss and shit everywhere. The smell will kill your business faster than anything else.”

  I couldn’t believe this was how he was reacting. “First of all, she’s been living here for three months. You couldn’t tell that because she’s very clean and does her business in her litter box, which I clean daily.”

  “She doesn’t belong in a store. She’ll get fur everywhere and you can’t risk having someone with allergies come in here and get sick.”

  This was a nightmare. “She doesn’t go into the shop.” Self-preservation made me stop right there. I didn’t want to show him the back room.

  “You have to take her to your apartment. She can’t stay. Larry is looking for an excuse to sanction you. Having a cat is one more nail in your coffin.”

  “I see,” I said. “Look, can you leave?”

  Rory rolled his eyes. “I know you’re mad at me, but I’m not leaving you to take a cab or an Uber this late at night dressed like that. Grab the cat and I’ll take you both home.”

  It would have been so easy to tell him we were both home. But if he freaked out about the cat, what would he do when he found out about me?

  “I’m not mad.”

  I'm disappointed.

  “I can’t bring the cat to my apartment.”

  Because I didn’t have one.

  “She can’t stay here,” Rory said.

  Want to bet?

  “I need to make some calls. See if Millie or Jeannine can take her until I find other arrangements. I’ll catch a ride home with one of them.”

  “Promise me you won’t call for a ride.”

  “I promise.” I gave him a small smile and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for a great day.”

  “I’d like to make a habit of it.”

  “Rory,” I held on to his hands. “I don’t need fancy New York trips. Hanging out with you on the yacht is fine with me.”

  “So you don’t want to go see Rancid at the Ford Amphitheater in Coney Island next month?”

  My mouth dropped open. He was forgiven. “Shut up. We can go to the concert and come back the same night so I don’t miss work, right?”

  “If it has to be that way, sure.”

  I gave him a hug. It didn’t matter that he freaked out about the cat. I’d make enough with Destiny’s paintings and the new cosmetics to be able to get my own apartment. I just had to stall for a little while longer.

  Chapter 21

  Rory

  I was getting a little sick of the runaround. I knew Dawn was busy, but it was three weeks since New York and she managed to postpone dinner with her parents every Friday. And while I loved having her stay on the yacht with me, I was damned curious why she wouldn’t tell me where she lived or let me spend the night there. It made me wonder what she was hiding. When I asked her point blank, she’d just say, “It’s a dump. It’s too small. I’m so embarrassed by it. We’d be more comfortable on your yacht.”

  It made sense, but my bullshit detector was going off.

  “Do you have an address for me?” I asked Bridgette. I was calling her from the yacht. I didn’t feel the need to rent an office when I could work from the boat. It was bad enough I had to get dressed in a suit to meet with the selectmen today. It was summer. Why couldn’t we do business over a barbecue pit and some cold beers?

  “Not yet. Her old apartment forwards to a post office box in Haven. I pulled her credit report and I can’t find a lease or a mortgage.”

  So she was living in an illegal apartment or staying with friends or family. I knew she wasn’t ashamed of me. I met all of her friends. I even got introduced to her sister, Stephanie. It seemed the only line Dawn drew in the sand was with her parents and her apartment.

  “What did you find out about the ex?”

  “Jack and the Kabooms are currently touring Maine.”

  “Maine?”

  “Yeah, all small bars. They’ve got good reviews, but no major record deals or anything like that. His residence is still listed as the old apartment, but I’ve confirmed that it’s rented to another couple.”

  “Any chance she’s staying with the new residents?”

  “Doesn’t seem to be. When I called, the person who answered said I had the wrong number. I tried the landlord, though.”

  “Did he know anything?”

  Bridgette sighed. “You’re going to be pissed.”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently Jack and Dawn didn’t pay rent for three months and were evicted. As in he called the state marshal to remove all their possessions from the premises.”

  When I was with Jack he was in charge of the apartment. He paid for rent, gas, and electricity.

  “Shit.” I banged my fist on the railing as Dawn’s words came back to me. “Did the marshal put their things in storage?”

  I heard Bridgette clicking the keyboard. “No. I talked to the marshal. He said he felt sorry for her because she didn’t have a car. I guess Jack the shithead took their only vehicle. She called an Uber and he helped her load her stuff into the car.”

  “Damn it.”

  “I could get Stash to go deeper.”

  I considered it. But I didn’t want a private investigator poking into her life. I was already pushing the boundaries of being a stalker. My anger faded away to worry and then flared back into rage when I thought of what that asshole had done to her. “No, I’ll handle it. Besides, I’ve got Stash working on another project. Thanks anyway. Good work.”

  “I like her shop, Rory. I’m glad you’re not going
to bulldoze it.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do you want to send me to Maine and question the ex?”

  “No, I want him to stay in Maine and maybe die in a fire.”

  “Ouch,” she said. “Well, all right then. Was there anything else you needed?”

  “Not at the moment. I’ll be in touch later.”

  I got Stash on the line next.

  "What were you able to find out about Austin Robinson?" I asked.

  "Well, he's a fucking scumbag." Stash didn't mince words. He was an ex-cop who had some anger management issues, but he knew how to get people to open up. "I strung him a story that your sister was out of her coma and prepared to testify that he sold her the drugs that put her there."

  "Jesus Christ, Stash." I rolled my eyes. "That wasn't why I told you to question him. I wanted to find out if he touched my sister the same way he went after Dawn. We don’t know who sold Cammy the drugs and she’s in no shape to tell us."

  "Let's just say I'm surprised your quarterback didn't snort the fifty-yard line."

  "High school was a long time ago."

  "Yeah, and now he's throwing eight balls instead of footballs."

  I took that in. "Are you saying that he actually did give her the heroin?" I'd kill him. There wouldn't be enough left of him for the police to find.

  "No, I don’t think your sister would have pissed on him if he was on fire. He’s the type of douche bag that makes people avoid him. I'm going to have some friends in Narcotics pay him a visit today. He's definitely selling, but he could be distributing too. He's been making a lot of trips to New York City."

  "So have I, but that doesn't mean I'm buying drugs there."

  "He was high when I was interviewing him, and when I excused myself to go to the bathroom I saw enough pill bottles to start his own pharmacy."

  "What did he say?" I forced my fists to unclench.

  "Well, he said that she was a fucking liar and was only trying to get back at him for dumping her in high school."

  "They never dated," I said icily.

  "That's what I told him. So he says he grabbed her tits and her pussy."

  "This is my sister you're talking about," I snarled.

  "Sorry, boss, just quoting the dickhead. Anyway, she put up a fight and he decided that she wasn't worth his time. So that's why—according to assholio—thirteen years after the fact, he figures she was pissed enough to accuse him of selling her drugs."

  "I’m glad your fake story got him to tell the truth in order to save his skin. So he did traumatize Cammy, the fuck. And Dawn stabbed the shit heel when he tried to do the same to her. No wonder Cammy looked up to her."

  "Well, we can't get him on the assault because the statute of limitations is five years. But he's at least dealing, if not distributing. He's going down."

  "Thanks, Stash. Keep me in the loop. What about that other thing? Did you track down Theodore Grant yet?"

  “Not yet. I think your dates are off. He wasn’t at retirement age when he left the high school.”

  I scowled. “Well, make sure there aren’t any skeletons in his closet. I want a full dossier on him. Leave no stone unturned.”

  “Any other clichés you want to throw at me, boss?”

  “Nothing comes to mind.”

  I hung up and stretched. I didn’t want to speak to the selectmen, but they needed my final update. I wanted to kick the shit out of Austin Robinson. Driving into Haven, I cheered myself up with the thought of taking Dawn out for lunch.

  Hard Cover—no longer Tantric Books—was slowly undergoing its transformation. I had the workers redo her façade so it matched all the new stores and I sprung for a new sign. Dawn was working her ass off to get ready for the crowds expected for the Fourth of July, which was next week.

  What she didn’t know was I bought all ten of Destiny’s oil paintings for a grand each. So when Dawn only wanted one, she bought the first one off me instead of Destiny. I didn't want to risk Destiny changing her mind. I restrained from telling Dawn I told you so when it immediately sold. It was a fucking bargain at three grand. An original oil painting from an up-and-coming artist? It was guaranteed to double in value in a few years. So when Dawn bought three more, I was able to get them to her the next day. She sold those as well within the week, and hired Millie on part time.

  I was going to take advantage of that and make sure Dawn didn’t burn herself out before the summer rush actually began. She was so busy with the new scents and colors she was coordinating we barely had enough time for a meal and marvelous sex before she conked out in my arms.

  I was going to ask her to come and see Cammy at the hospital with me later. Not only would it be a treat for my sister, but maybe seeing me with my sister would give Dawn the courage to face her parents with me at her side.

  The three selectmen, including my father, Larry Briggs, and Judge Nolan were already in the boardroom of the town hall when I got there. I hadn't been expecting the last two. Jeannine looked pissed, but before she could say anything to me, my father called me in.

  "You're late, Rory."

  It was 9:05 a.m. I bit my tongue, because to acknowledge it or apologize would put me in a position of weakness. Instead, I sat at the head of the table opposite my father. "Thank you all for coming," I said like it was my boardroom instead of his. "As promised, the stores have been renovated and are in place for your Fourth of July gala next week. We had a few hiccups, but the new renters are on two-year leases and are paying three to five times what the original tenants were paying. Even with the costs of relocation, buyouts, and the upgrades to the buildings, we stand to make a profit by the end of the year." I leaned back in my chair and waited for the congratulations.

  "There was a problem with drugs, and the police had to be called in," my father said.

  "Yes, that's why Landscapes was replaced with Giorgio's." I pulled up my pant leg and showed them my custom Italian shoe.

  "Hans Gryffen is threatening to sue for breach of contract," Judge Nolan said.

  "He can sue all he wants. The contract he signed was ironclad, wasn't it?"

  Nolan nodded.

  "Hans should feel lucky he wasn't formally charged with possession of narcotics. That doesn't change the fact that his partygoers were indulging in illegal activities. That's why we're cleaning up the area, right? To get rid of the drug element."

  There were nods all around the table.

  “So then we can’t have an owner like Hans in our new stores.”

  "You were supposed to get Tantric Books out," Larry said.

  "Tantric Books is now Hard Cover. If you go in, you'll find that Dawn has adjusted her merchandise to fit in with our new concepts. The pizza place did the same thing. They're our only two original stores."

  My father shook his head. "No. She needs to go."

  I looked at Dawn’s father, but his face was blank.

  "Unlike Hans, Dawn would be in her rights to sue for breach of contract if you tried to evict her. And the bad press would eat us alive. Besides, her lease is also ironclad. You have no cause for removal. Isn't that right, Judge?" I asked, turning to him.

  "I wrote that lease," Nolan said.

  I shrugged. "There you have it."

  Larry pointed his finger at me. "You promised me she'd take the buyout."

  "You promised me too," my father said. "But you let her pretty face sway you."

  "What do you have against her, anyway?" I folded my arms in front of me.

  "The smut—" my father said.

  "Is gone, for the most part."

  "The books are nonsense," Nolan said.

  So that was it. "Don't buy them. She's making rent selling them to your wives and girlfriends. Or is that the real reason you don't like the store? Is she making the womenfolk all uppity?"

  "Watch your tone, son," my father said.

  "I'm waiting for an answer. Or are you trying to be polite for Judge Nolan's sake? Is it her purple hair? The tongue ring?"

&n
bsp; "All of the above," Nolan said.

  "We've had complaints about her attitude as well," the second selectman said. I couldn't even remember his name.

  "From whom? May I see them?"

  "They're not your concern," the third selectman said. I think his name was Peter something.

  "Have you shown them to Dawn?"

  "What good would that do?" Nolan said.

  "Oh, I don't know. Hear her side of the story?"

  "Do you have another store lined up to go into Tantric Books' space?"

  It was tempting to lie, but I didn't. "I have several. So if there are any sudden openings, we could be back in business before the end of summer. In some cases, it would take a matter of days. Dawn's store would not be one of them, however, because we didn't have time to remodel the interior."

  "That's disappointing."

  "Not really. Dawn's not going anywhere. Her clients are not going anywhere and she's not changing anything important to make five old men, who will never accept her anyway, happy."

  "You're out of line," Nolan said.

  "And you, sir—" I bit off the rest of what I was going to say. I wouldn't be doing Dawn any favors by telling off her father. And it wasn't as if after I called him a misogynistic prick who was missing out on his beautiful daughter's life, Judge Nolan would suddenly drop to his knees and repent. So I took the high road. "And you and your lovely wife are invited aboard my yacht this Friday. Your daughter will be there if I have to drag her kicking and screaming. We're going to have a nice dinner, and if you piss me off I'll throw you overboard."

  "Rory!" my father shouted.

  "Don't worry, you and Mom will get your turn. Same rules apply."

  "What's going on?" Larry asked.

  "Dawn's my girlfriend." I spelled it out for him.

  His face twisted. "Well, no wonder she's not going anywhere. I hope she's worth it, Parker."

  "She is. And with that"—I dusted off my hands—"I'm done. I'll stick around to make sure all the transitions go smoothly and act as a go-between for the rest of the summer until everyone settles into their new leases. But no more 9 a.m. meetings for me. Good day, gentlemen." I pushed away from the table.

  "Rory, we're not done here," my father said.