The Dark Scarlett
Page 3
“Your money and my money are one and the same, so that means I’ll be paying for it as well, and you’re missing the point.”
“We have the money, Cove.”
“I don’t like to cop-out on a deal or burn any bridges, whether it’s a free exchange or a million dollar agreement; word gets around and it’s bad for business.”
“Ha, people know we fuck back here, and in the second floor office, don’t you think that’s bad for business?”
I pause for a moment at her smartass remark. I know I sound hypocritical at times. “Listen, we don’t need bad press. Literally. Don’t piss people off who have power, such as those who own the major city newspaper. Anyway, her mother’s trying to get her back on track. I guess she was caught selling prescription meds to her friends, so I agreed to let her work here to make some honest money. It’s a good job for some of these twenty-one-year-olds, you know? They can make a shitload of tips.” I dial her number and hear a ring, except it’s coming from the main room of the Scarlett. Sophia looks at me and then at the door as the sound grows in intensity. I hang up and wait for her to enter the room.
“Hey,” she says in a contrived, innocent voice. “Haverty let me in so I could apologize. I’m really sorry I acted out tonight. I didn’t mean what I said.”
“What the hell. Were you listening to us?” Sophia questions in a cold voice.
Ivy stares with a sheepish grin, and begins that dumbass hair twirl thing that I hate. Women look like whores, or just plain idiots when they do it... just stop and put your fucking hand down. “You’re not speaking to the right person, Ivy.”
She turns and starts again. “Cove’s wife, I’m sorry.”
“Urrgh,” Sophia starts to walk out, but I pull her back and wrap my arms around her body so she can’t escape. I want to show this girl standing before us she doesn’t have a chance with me, and my embrace should comfort Soph as well. My wife is short-tempered, and not the most mature woman in the world, but this wench standing here just pissed me off. “You know what? We’re giving you one more chance, and that’s it. I don’t want to hear any lewd or hateful language toward any employees in my business, and especially not toward my wife. Got it?”
She nods and extends her hand. “I’m sorry, Sophia. It won’t happen again.”
They shake, but I still feel the tension in the room. This isn’t over between them, something’s off, and it’s not just my wife’s balance from being drunk.
“Ivy,” Haverty says from the doorway. “Come on, walk out with everyone else. I’m locking the front.”
She disappears, hidden by Haverty’s massive body.
“Let’s check the place and head home, alright? I need to relax after a few hellish days in Vegas.” I kiss the top of her head and we slip on our shoes.
“That was nice, Babe. Thanks for standing up for me.”
“Thanks for not punching her in the face.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she laughs. “Well... not to anyone I’m unrelated to.”
I know that’s not true. She acts like a little badass at times and if someone pisses her off she’ll smack ‘em good.
We check the rest of the private rooms for empty bottles and glasses then head to the main room and do the same.
I love the Scarlett and it’s good to be back. My mother, with a keen eye for design, is solely responsible for the interior of the place. The walls are deep grey and gold chandeliers grace the ceiling. The lounge area is set up for our customers to gather in small groups on either black or red velvet sofas, and the number of people we can accommodate with such an arrangement is impressive. She should’ve been an interior decorator.
We play R&B, jazz and trance music most of the time. It seems to be seductive and matches the personality of those who come in before the late night crowd arrives, looking to share a bottle of wine and relax with friends or associates. The later college student invasion can be loud, especially on Thursday and Friday nights, but nothing too wild or over the top that Haverty or the others on security can’t handle. We’re known for our mellower atmosphere, unlike other bars in the area where you have to scream at the top of your lungs in order to be heard. The customers describe it as elegant, tasteful, and exclusive, and that’s how I’d describe the majority of them.
I take another beer from the bar, but Haverty immediately snatches it out of my hand and puts it back.
“Listen, dipshit. It’s close to three, and you need some sleep. One’s enough for tonight.”
“Thanks Hav,” Sophia calls out.
He looks at me in an apologetic way. “I’m trying to keep you on track, buddy. Don’t fuck up and start getting shitfaced every night like you used to.”
“You have no idea what...”
“I do,” he halts my explanation. “I know a lot more than you think I know, more than you’ve told me,” he looks back at Sophia who’s walking toward us. “Look at that fucking stunner you caught.”
I laugh at the thought of catching my wife. If he only knew how she came onto me the night we met... Hell, I could have easily fucked her a few minutes into our first conversation; that is, if I hadn’t also been completely terrified of her.
“Those are where your thoughts should lie, with her and not with her father, and not with Vegas or your past,” he whispers.
“How do you know...”
“All set? Can we head out, Babe?” Sophia says. “I’m exhausted.”
“Yeah, everything looks good.”
Haverty turns off the remaining lights over the bar and we head out the back door. We’ve loaned him one of the Escalades we use as a service to customers at the Scarlett. When people know they have a safe, luxurious ride home, and don’t have to squeeze into a dingy cab that smells like piss, it’s easier for them to make the decision of staying longer and having another drink with us, and then another. My father’s also using one of the cars, leaving two exclusively for the business. And Haverty’s a brilliant fucking driver. He gets us to the front of our building in less than five minutes, which everyone has learned is the allotted time my wife can keep her alcoholic mush down, anything longer and it’s a vomit fest on the back seat, or worse, on me. The movement of the car is what sets her off.
“Thanks Hav. You’re sure you locked the front door of the Scarlett, right?” I ask, stepping out.
“Checked it twice. It’s secure. Ah, and there she blows,” Haverty laughs as Sophia pukes on the sidewalk next to the car. “Like clockwork.”
I lean in to the open window and whisper so she doesn’t overhear. “Tell the bartenders to start cutting her off after two. That goes for you as well. If I’ve been denied drinks from my own bar, then it will do her some good to be as well. She and I will learn to sober up together.”
He nods and pulls away as I hold her hair. It’s clear when we’re in these moments that we shouldn’t be thinking about having a kid. Sophia has the temperament and behavior of a teenager, and I’m not much better. We were both forced to grow up too quickly and never had a chance to be kids. Now, we play off one another, both lost, and both of us totally fucked in the head. She throws tantrums and still uses sex as a way to heal or diminish her frustrations, and I can be either sweet or a complete dick, and I use sex as a way to disappear from the world and my problems.
“You okay?” I ask, as she straightens up.
“Fuck,” she wipes her mouth. “Let’s go to bed.”
CHAPTER TWO
The top floor of our building consists of three penthouse loft units. My parents own the western side and I’m often jealous of the movie-like sunsets from their terrace. Sophia and I have the unit next to theirs, with a view of the St. Louis Arch, the Mississippi river, and a radiant morning sun. One unit is empty and not for sale. It’s Sophia’s old place, a home her father bought for her before we met. That fucker. I should say he deceived us, set us up, fuck, don’t think about it. For now, until the estate is settled between David Rosen, Sophia, and her brother, that unit will
stay vacant.
I’ve never met him... my wife’s brother. She doesn’t talk about him for some reason... or her mother... for good reason. I haven’t met her either, and Sophia insists I never will. From what I’ve heard, I think that’s best. She sounds like an abusive monster, and to think, that’s what Soph’s father used to say about me.
Oh shit, let’s get back to my wife. Haverty would call me a fuckhole if I ever told him this, but her long hair and soft tits shining in the morning light get my dick hard at first sight, or maybe that’s just normal morning wood. I like to believe it’s because of her. I never used to wake up this stiff before we met. Not even when I was sixteen.
And here I am holding her head as she sucks me off, thinking about these other things. Her family, my family, lofts, estates, and I’m stressed about our future and the business.
Fuck, she’s doing that flick across my tip. I need to change the game. I’m not ready to cum just yet.
“Lick my balls while you jack me off. Stop that fluttering tongue trick or I’ll blow my load.”
She laughs at my loss of control whenever she gives me head. “What if I don’t?”
“I’ll make sure I cum on your face.”
“Promise?” She snakes her tongue even faster, taking all the power. The butterfly flick if I recall. It was in one of the videos I had to watch in Vegas. I couldn’t identify the guy on the tape; too long ago, bad angle, dark lighting, fuzzy and full of lines, poor filming, but I could hear what he was saying. He described what he wanted me to do... shit, don’t lose it. You were just a fucking iron rod, think about her. Look at her. Look down at her and that body. Don’t... goddammit!
“What happened? Did I do something wrong? You’ve never gone limp on me before.”
“I’m not. My bladders about to tip; I’ll be right back,” I say. Good save. I’m not going to tell her Paul and his freaks were in my head again.
“Cove, hurry up. We’ll be late for breakfast with your mother and father.”
“Give me a second,” I yell from the bathroom. She can be so inpatient. And bossy. Kind of like my mother. Oh Jesus, I didn’t marry my mother, did I? Fuck, come on... firm up.
“I don’t believe you. I bet you’re stroking it!” she yells.
Great, she knows... or she’s teasing. “Fuck it,” I whisper, looking into the mirror with my hand tugging my dick. I’m not going to disappoint her... picture her, look down at her, slide it inside, watch her eyes roll back and her tongue lick her lips... roll her over and lick her ass.
“I hope you’re thinking about me!”
I hold my nuts and continue my visualization of her smooth naked body. Nail her ass until she screams and watch her claw at the bed to get away. Keep going. Finally. I flush the toilet in a cover-up attempt, but I know she’s gonna give me shit anyway.
She’s standing with her arms folded when I open the door. Naked, tapping her foot, giving me that look.
“What happened?” she peers at my erection with a slight grin, but then back at my face for an answer.
“I told you, I had to take a piss.”
“Don’t lie, Cove. It’s one of the most unattractive habits you have. I heard you flush twenty minutes ago when I was just waking up. Tell me what I did wrong so it doesn’t happen again. I can take the criticism.”
Her reaction cuts into my heart. “It wasn’t you. I love the way you touch me, everything you do turns me on.”
“Obviously not.” She sits on the edge of the bed as her eyes well with tears.
“You’re overreacting. I can take it when you yell and scream at me for stupid shit, but not when you break down and cry. This is a bit melodramatic. I just lost it for a second. It happens.” I know she wants an answer; it’s the only way she’ll calm down.
“No it doesn’t. It’s never happened to me before... to us. It makes me feel unattractive.”
I close my eyes and sigh. My wife’s so needy, but if I were in her shoes... if I was fingering her and she seemed disconnected, then got up and disappeared into another room, I’d be like what the fuck?
“Soph, can you answer a question and then I’ll tell you?” She nods as I hand her a tissue. I wonder what’s going on with her lately. She had her period a few weeks ago so I don’t think she’s pregnant, but her emotions are more unstable than usual, if that’s possible. Makes me think about her father... most delusional and psychotic man to ever exist, sometimes I wonder if she’s a nutcase like him. Man, how can you think such shit about your wife? She’s not like him. Stay on track and ask the question. “What happened between you and Ivy while I was gone? Why do you think she called you a bitch? Did you say something to her, or did the two of you have a fight I’m unaware of that preceded that event? I mean; I’m not trying to make it sound like it was your fault, but you fucking gave me the cold shoulder last night before Haverty walked in, and I want to know why. We were talking about your jealousy. Tell me. Tell me or I’ll cancel breakfast and tie you to this bed until you do, and I won’t go easy on you,” I grin, hoping to... yep, there it is.
Her smile lights up the room and I relax. “Come on, you fucker, follow me to the kitchen,” she says, slipping into her robe as I trail behind from our third floor bedroom, past the door to our small pool, which is the only room on the second level, and to the first floor of our loft. I’d love to be in that pool instead of having to delve into this shit with her.
“Sit,” she demands and starts to make the coffee. “Sugar and spice?”
“What? You know I only like cream.”
She takes two black mugs from the open metal shelf above the counter, sets one in front of me and says, “Ivy was passing around a newspaper article about my father with the headline Sugar and Spice, Paul’s Porn Stars Are Never Nice. And to think, my father used to talk about his business like it was high-class. The more I learn about him...”
I place a hand on my forehead and rub in aggravation, tuning her out for a moment. She jumps when my fist hits the counter and the barstool strikes the concrete floor. “I need to get dressed,” I call down to her, already halfway up the stairs.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
I stop on the second floor landing and turn to my wife. “What did you say to her?”
“I asked her where she got it from, of course.”
“And,” I roll my hand in the air. “Spit it out, Soph.”
“She said she found it at her mother’s house when she was looking for some cash in a bedroom. She’s a thief-whore, a pissant, and a bitch, and that’s exactly what I called her, and then she said I was a bitch, so I fired her.”
“Alright.” I hold up my hand. “Who was she showing it to?”
“Everyone.”
“Fuck.” I continue to our bedroom and dress as quickly as possible, throwing on the first t-shirt I find, a pair of jeans, and my Cardinals hat, no time to shower. “Where the fuck’s my wallet?”
“Down here!” she yells.
“Keys?”
“Yeah, phone too. What are you going to do?” I hear the iron steps creak and know she’s on her way up.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this yesterday.”
“I can’t believe you won’t fucking tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“That was the fucking deal!” she screams. “You just said you’d tell me why you went soft if I answered your question about Ivy!”
“This is far more important than my dick. Why did you keep this from me?”
“Look at you. You’re frantic. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“And so are you, but not for the right reasons!” I push past her on the stairwell.
“I fired her and that should’ve been it. I don’t want to know about the article, I just want it to go away! I’m fucking tired of it!” she shouts.
“Sophia, damn it. Don’t be a dumbass.” I grab all the shit I need and start to call Haverty.
I exhale and take her in my arms, phone still in hand. “Listen,” I whisper. “I don’t want to fight. I’m going to find out what’s going on and why her mother had the article. Then I’ll be back.”
“I’m pissed that Ivy knows about my father, and with her big mouth so does everyone else at the Scarlett.”
“Soph, it’s not like the entire country doesn’t know about the murder of your father. Ivy doesn’t have to open her mouth for anyone to find out. They’re aware.”
“They don’t know everything.”
“Shh, I’ll be back soon.” I kiss her in a most apologetic way. “We’ll talk later about my little problem in bed this morning. Okay?”
She nods as I head for the door. “Cove, what about your parents?”
“Don’t tell them anything. Make up some story that I went to the Scarlett for an incoming shipment.”
“Your parents are co-owners, dill weed. They know there’s no shipment arriving today.”
“Tell them it was a special order or something.”
She rolls her eyes while I slip on my shoes. “Be careful, Cove.”
“Love you, Soph.” I shut the door and call Haverty while waiting for the elevator at the end of the hall.
“You okay?” he asks, picking up on the first ring.
“Hav, I need you to meet me outside the Tribune newspaper building.”
“Oh shit, what happened?”
“You didn’t tell me Ivy had an article about Paul. Fuckin’ A. I need to talk to her mother.”
“I didn’t know. Fuck. Is that what set your wife off yesterday? What’s it about?”
“Who are you talking to so early?” I hear a soft voice in the background; it must be his girlfriend, Alyssa. “Is that Cove?”
“Be there in fifteen.” I end the call while riding the elevator down to the building’s underground parking garage. Shit, I hope my Viper starts. It’s five years old and I never drive it. What a fucking waste of money. I should sell the obnoxious thing. Haverty has me convinced I look like a pussy in it anyway. I think the entire family appears more punk ass riding all together in one of the Escalades than Sophia and I do in the Viper. What a horrible phase that was, to think I could be a car guy, maybe start collecting a few, enter them in car shows; but I’m just not that type. I have better things to admire than cars.