Control

by Laura Marie Altom

  I’d have killed for some beer—any beer—but I’d been informed by the motel’s front-desk clerk that this was a dry county. Apparently, the rednecks partying around last night’s bonfire hadn’t gotten the memo.

  Upon arrival at The Colonnade apartments, I paid the driver, then took a deep breath.

  I’d made a decision regarding Ella and it had to work. Had to.

  Hopefully, she’d be on the same page.

  The place looked infinitely more depressing in daylight. Sidewalks were cracked. The snowmen had all been kicked over. Scarves and sticks and hats littered the patchy brown yard.

  A glance toward Ella’s landing showed the flowers were gone.

  Imagining her drab little apartment covered in cheery blooms made me smile. I jogged the rest of the way with our pizza and a two-liter Coke.

  My smile faded when I found police tape across Ella’s neighbor’s door.

  My first thought was, what happened? My second, how fast could I get Ella out of here?

  I knocked on Ella’s door, only to feel under attack when it burst open.

  “I told you I was at work when it happen—oh.” She fell silent. “It’s you.”

  “You sure have a way with bursting bubbles.”

  Her eyes were red-rimmed and her voice was hoarse. “This isn’t a good time.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Liam, we said all we needed to last night. Please, go.”

  No. “Didn’t you get my flowers? The card?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “What? Answer a simple question?” With minimal effort, I pushed my way inside, set the food and Coke on the counter, then turned to lock the door. “Christ…Did the flowers I had delivered get stolen?”

  “I gave them away.” The yellow floral sofa she sat on should have been taken to the dump back in the seventies.

  “Why? They were for you. Didn’t you read my card?” I’d spent a good hour on it, trying to convey just the right sentiment.

  She shook her head. “M-Mrs. Lincoln—the sweet old lady from next door—was shot through the heart for her TV and some costume jewelry. Cops think it was a gang-related robbery. They just left. When you knocked, I figured you were them.”

  “Were you two good friends?”

  Ella shook her head, then began sobbing. “B-but that makes this worse. I could’ve made an effort to be nice to her, y-you know? I’ve been so caught up in my own world that I stopped seeing what other people are going through. I didn’t used to be like that. I hate what I’ve become.”

  I just sat there, absorbing her pain, wishing there were something I could do. Should I try hugging her? Or would that only freak her out more?

  “Were you at work when it happened?”

  She sniffled, then nodded.

  “Thank God.”

  “Don’t say that. If I had been here, maybe I’d have heard something. I could’ve tried saving her.”

  “And gotten yourself shot in the process?” Noticing she needed a tissue, I grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. I tore off a piece, then handed it to her. “Blow your nose.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” She took the tissue.

  Her constant battle mode was getting old. What would it take to not just break down her walls, but bust them into a million pieces? To make her shiny and new again? Most of all, to make her mine for however long the ride lasted? “Ever get tired of fighting?”

  “Ever get tired of asking questions?”

  What happened to the woman I’d spent a chunk of last night kissing? “Is there any chance of us starting over?”

  She looked void. Dead in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry your neighbor died—especially in such an awful way.” I knelt in front of her, taking her hands. Her fingers were cold, so I cradled them in mine, blowing on them in an attempt to make her warm. “I know you might not feel so hot right now, but I have an offer for you that I bet will cheer you up.”

  “Impossible.”

  It gave me hope that at least she still had enough spunk left in her to fight.

  “Plus, what’s wrong with you?” She jerked her hands free. “Why did you say those awful things to me last night?”

  “I’m sorry. That’s why I bought you all of Wal-Mart’s flowers. What’s wrong with you that you gave them away?”

  “That kind of stuff doesn’t impress me. I don’t want flowers or a card—just you. Why couldn’t you just make a sincere apology?”

  I scrunched my face. Was the girl trying to piss me off? I felt like we were speaking different languages. “Isn’t that what I just did?”

  “Why are you even here? Aren’t you leaving in the morning?”

  Ah, now we could get down to business. “Yes. Which is why I’m here. Do you like your job?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Sure. I mean, I guess. Why?”

  “I want to hire you.”

  For the longest time, she just stared, then wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean—hire me?”

  What did she think I meant? “The usual. I want to pay you for services rendered.”

  “Wait…” Fingertips to her forehead, she rose. “I work at a Wal-Mart snack bar. I glop blaze-orange nacho cheese on chips for minimum wage. What could you possibly want me to—” Her full lips formed an O. “Wait—are we talking about prostitution?”

  I shrugged. “Semantics. I prefer to think of it in terms of a mutually beneficial arrangement. You seem to need money. I for sure need you, only I’m out of time to make that happen—at least the way I envisioned.” I sat on the sofa, arching my head back and closing my eyes. “I want you to want me, Ella. I want you so hungry for my cock that you have to finger yourself every time you think my name. I want—”

  “Get out.”

  Now? My fantasy was just moving into high gear. “You haven’t even heard my terms. Let’s start at a thousand a week.”

  She laughed. “Okay, first—if you had that kind of money, you wouldn’t have been stuck at the Shamrock Inn for the past three days. Second—I might be a lot of things, but a hooker isn’t one. Third—what kind of egotistical prick even says such a thing? Fourth—”

  “For the sake of arguing, let’s say I did have that kind of money? Enough to up my offer to five or ten K a week, and it wouldn’t make the slightest dent in my wallet?” I rose, slowly walking toward her, until I’d pinned her to the wall with my palms on either side of her. We weren’t touching, but the heat between us was undeniable. She would never admit it, but my offer turned her on.

  “I’d say you’re crazy. But for the sake of your game, I’ll play along. If you’re really all that loaded—which I don’t believe for a second you are—why the interest in me? You could literally have any woman in the world—Jennifer Lawrence or, hell, Beyoncé.”

  “Last I checked, I think both are with someone, but even if they weren’t, I want you.”

  “But why? See? That’s what I don’t get.” She ducked beneath my outstretched arms to pace. “And why would you lie about this whole money thing? Do you think I’m dumb enough to hop in your broke-down heap and just drive off with you into the great unknown?”

  “When you put it like that, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere with me. But what if I told you my ride is a sweet little G6?”

  “As in the jet?” She laughed so hard, she snorted. “That’s funny—like seriously fucking funny.”

  “Twenty K per week, and I’ll throw in your own penthouse and a car.”

  “Stop. You can toss out all the imaginary goodies you want, but it won’t work. I have a steady job and a roof over my head. That’s what’s important to me. I have goals. Big ones. Running off with you won’t get me anywhere.”

  I sat on the arm of her sofa. “Try me. What’s your primary objective?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “To move as far away from Tennessee as possible. Preferably, Tulsa.”

  Interesting. Was Tennessee where he lived? The guy who’d beat her? I’d need t
o get my people on that right away. That was one of the many benefits of money. I could hurt a person in ways far more painful than just a physical blow. “What if I told you that by tomorrow at this time, you could be taking a dip in your private pool, on your private rooftop balcony overlooking the San Francisco Bay?”

  “California? How’s your car going to make it that far? Oh wait—I forgot, you have that imaginary jet.”

  I shouldn’t have been surprised that she didn’t believe me. Hell, that was a large part of her charm. Ever since founding Zoogle, women fell all over themselves trying to impress me. Until Ella. If anything, she’d done the opposite in trying to get away from me. Not only was she hot as hell without even knowing, but I viewed her as sort of my own personal Pygmalion project. For whatever she’d been through—which I would find out—she deserved a break. “You need to know this isn’t just about sex. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect you at some point to sleep with me, but whatever’s going on between us feels bigger than that. You also need to know I don’t ever plan to marry, so in case you get the whole Pretty Woman theme song playing in your head and picture yourself to be the next Julia Roberts, get that out of your head. During the time of our contract, we’re both allowed to see whomever we want, whenever we want—unless it’s a night I’m in town; then, I’d expect first right of refusal. Go to school in your spare time, see the city, or sit on your ass and watch Jerry Springer in your home theater. If I don’t have an appointment with you, I don’t care what you do. How about if our initial contract is drawn up for thirty days? That’ll net you eighty K regardless of whether or not we mutually decide to renew. If we both see this going longer, then you only stand to make more. If, after a year, you’re still making me smile, I’m prepared to toss in a million-dollar bonus. Sound fair?”

  She slowly exhaled. “You are out of your ever-loving mind…”

  Straddling the narrow coffee table, then sitting, she drew that full lower lip of hers in for a nibble. I wanted to suck it.

  Instead, I wasted time by removing my watch, tossing it onto the table where it landed between her thighs. “Patek Philippe’s Platinum World Time. Bought at auction for 4.5 million. Why? Because I can.” I took my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans and starting tossing out credit cards. “Coutts & Co.’s World Card—Queen Elizabeth carries one, so it has to be good, right? AmEx Centurion Black—I had to be invited to get that one. Oh—this one’s great. Actually pretty funny, but the ladies seem to like how my Dubai First Royale MasterCard is diamond-studded.” I next flung a wad of hundreds in the air. Women the world over appreciated money rain. If I’d thought it would make a difference, I would have shown her my current net worth, but that might have just freaked her out. “Fun, huh?”

  Instead of gasping with awe, Ella folded her arms. Her pressed lips read disgust, confusion and maybe fear. Her narrowed eyes read suspicion. “Did Blaine put you up to this?”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. I’ve had enough show and tell. Maybe all of this is real, and maybe it’s not. Either way, I want no part of it.”

  “Fair enough.” I played it cool, but inside I was a wreck. If she wasn’t wowed by my money, then how the hell was I supposed to obtain her? I took my watch and credit cards but left the cash. I’d probably made that much in interest in the past few minutes. “If you change your mind, my pilot scheduled our flight plan for eight a.m. Monday morning. Be there or be square.”

  12

  Ella

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  After Liam left, I’d walked to the convenience store to call Willow. Her reaction was pretty much the same as mine. “He just left all that money?”

  “I wouldn’t get too excited. It’s probably counterfeit.”

  “But what if it’s not? There’s an easy enough way to find out. Don’t we have one of those counterfeit testing pens in our register drawer at work?”

  “They’re in lots of drawers…”

  “Are you at…Sit tight…I’ll…”

  Three guys on motorcycles at the gas pumps revved their bikes so loud, I could hardly hear what Willow was saying.

  “Wait. What?”

  “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you. We’re going to play detective.”

  The crowd outside was sketchy, so I waited inside.

  The register clerk waved his finger at me. “You gotta buy something to stand there. No loitering.”

  I bought a Snickers. It reminded me of the night Liam and I first kissed.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the warm bath he’d drawn. The way sleet tinkled against the windows while I’d fallen asleep resting my cheek against his strong back. That night, he’d been my hero.

  Now? He’d fallen to a zero. This new Liam wasn’t at all attractive.

  If even a fraction of what he’d said turned out to be true, the ironic part of the contract he’d offered was the fact that I’d be using him. He was so cocky. So sure of himself. His whole performance had felt ridiculously out of character for the man I’d briefly known. Was there any chance it could have been an act? Some whacked defensive mechanism he put up when he was scared? If so, what was it about me that scared him?

  Willow pulled up outside and honked.

  A teen thug wearing droopy pants hopped out of her way. “Watch where you’re going, bitch!”

  She rolled down her window to flip him a bird. “Suck this, bitch!” To me she shouted, “Get in. Let’s do this thing!”

  Had she already been drinking? Or was this sober Willow? Sometimes, it was hard to tell.

  “Got the cash?”

  I nodded.

  She fishtailed out of the parking lot, then headed for Wal-Mart. “If he is telling the truth, you have to take me with you.”

  “Who said I would even go? And that matter of him telling the truth is a very big if. Like, come on—he’s a billionaire? That’s just stupid.”

  “Oh yeah? Look at this—” She turned on her phone, punched in the password, then handed it to me. “Look familiar?”

  My stomach cramped hard enough to knead bread. “This is a joke, right? You Photoshopped him?”

  The picture showed Liam wearing a suit. He sat behind a massive desk, in a massive office, in front of a view that seemed to look out over the world. The Golden Gate Bridge was just visible in the far corner. My gaze slid back to him. Those emerald eyes. This couldn’t be happening. How could I have left one powerful man to have accidentally found a guy that made Blaine look like a schoolyard punk?

  “Nope.” She swung into the customer lot and found us a great space up close. “Come on, let’s go have fun.”

  Twenty minutes later, Nathan had snagged us a counterfeit pen, and we all sat in the break room, testing my pile of twenty-six hundreds. It was more money than I’d ever seen. Sure, Blaine had bought me expensive gifts, but I’d never had cash. Cash equaled freedom—the last thing my husband wanted for his wife.

  “That’s it,” Nathan said. “It’s all real. What’re you going to do?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I’ll buy one of those big, padded envelopes, then send it all to him at his fancy office. With Willow’s Internet skills, the address shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Willow took a swig from the Mountain Dew and vodka she’d made while we’d waited for Nathan to get the pen. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime gig, Jules. Most people never even breathe the same air as a billionaire, yet you’ve got one wanting to pay you twenty large a week? Even if you’re not that into him, that’s a shit-ton of cash. Just think of all you could do.”

  Yeah—get myself in even deeper than I’d been with Blaine. With Liam’s resources, if things turned bad, I could potentially never be free. “I’m still not convinced he’s telling the truth.”

  Nathan suggested, “Why don’t you head out to the airport? See if there’s a G6?”

  “That’s just stupid.” I nursed my Sprite. “What does one of those even look like?”r />
  Willow was all too happy to hold up her phone. “Allow me to present Exhibit B for your consideration.”

  Onscreen was another picture of Liam. This time, he wore jeans and flip-flops, hamming in front of a jet that had ZOOGLE emblazoned across the side. His hair was longer and had a bit of natural curl. Were his curls soft? He seemed so much more approachable in this shot than the last. He looked happy. The way he had Saturday morning when I’d asked him to make a snowman. This seemed more like the guy I’d come to know—wanted to know. That hard guy who’d made it rain hundreds could piss off.

  “Well?” Willow tapped the screen. “Are you up for a trip to the airport?”

  Nathan said, “I’m off in fifteen. Can I go?”

  “Sure.” Willow finished her drink. “You ride shotgun. Jules is kind of a bore.”

  —

  “Daaaamn…” Nathan hooked his fingers through the airport’s tall, chain-link fence. “He really is that guy.”

  Willow hopped up and down. “Please, take me with you, Jules. Please, please, pleeeease.”

  Parked on the tarmac pretty as you please, with a suit-wearing security type standing near the tail, was the Zoogle jet Willow had shown me. Though my friends didn’t even try hiding their excitement, what I felt landed more in the range of trepidation. Just as Liam had said, by this time tomorrow, I could be thousands of miles from here. Much farther from Blaine than I could ever get on my own in years of working crap jobs.

  One month of his cash would make hiding so easy. I could even go to Canada if I wanted. One month, and then I would be set for life—or at least a big chunk of it. I could afford to buy oranges and red leaf instead of iceberg lettuce. No more dry bologna sandwiches or cheap white bread. As much as I professed to hate money, even I had to admit that finally having some would make life on the run a whole lot sweeter. But was I willing to resort to prostitution to make that happen?

  “Earth to Julie?” Willow clapped her hands. “Hello? Anyone home?”

  “Leave her alone,” Nathan said. “Girl’s got a lot to think about.”

  I drew my lower lip into my mouth. Could I actually do this?