by Mackenzy Fox
I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me.
I contemplate whether to go smash his face into the urinal, that might wipe that smug look off his mush, but I refrain because that would stuff up the deal for Morgan tonight and then I’d have her wrath to face as well as a lawsuit.
I don’t know which would be worse.
She turns to look at me.
I pretend to be fixated on my pie as I take a mouthful, then pull the spoon out of my mouth slowly; I lick it while I make sure to get all the cream off. I glance up at her and her eyes go wide as she watches me, she quickly turns back to her table without looking back.
I smile. Only I can go down on a dessert spoon and pretend I did nothing wrong.
This is going to be one hell of a long night as I grin into my cappuccino.
I lie awake staring at the ceiling.
I miss my apartment. It’s too quiet here, it’s like nothing is going on down there in the outside world because up here in the clouds you can’t hear a damned thing.
I roll over onto my stomach and try to get comfy; when that doesn’t work, I beat the pillows with my fists and roll out of bed. I pad down the hallway naked to the kitchen and rummage through the fridge. I find a bottle of scotch and take it with me as I walk over to the window and look out on the world below. It is a magnificent view from up here, I’ll give it that. I love this city, I love everything about it but I don’t like it quiet.
I take a swig of the liquor and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand as I rest my head on my forearm.
I hate insomnia. It comes and goes, usually it’s stress related so I don’t take anything for it. I’ll normally burn off the excess energy and go for a run, exhaust myself until I actually feel tired. Not having sex doesn’t help, not one bit, if anything, it makes it worse.
I wonder if this dry spell will pass and I know it’s my own fault. I’ve only got myself to blame, I can go out anytime and get what I need, hell, my own club is crawling with hot chicks ready to go at it, yet for some reason, it seems to have lost its appeal.
I don’t fucking know what the answer is but I’m paying for it now.
I watch the lights flicker down below and wonder how the hell I got here. I wonder if I would have really taken this job if it weren’t John James begging me, of course, the money is outlandish, he’s got more money than sense but I admit I’ve always been curious about Morgan and what she’d become. I guess some things about me really never changed.
I go back to bed nursing the bottle, still no clearer on any of life’s mysteries.
In the morning, Morgan goes through her schedule with Jolie over the phone in the car and yet again I’m amazed at how busy she is and how much she has on her plate. I’ve been to her website and had a look at a lot of her designs that she’s done for clients, although it occurs to me Morgan would be good at anything she put her mind to, she was always the smartest kid in class.
We go through the motions for the rest of the week and politely move around one another. I stay out of her way as much as possible, she doesn’t bring up anything more about our previous conversation or my sarcasm in the car and I don’t bring up dinner and how Elliott Nelson is the world’s biggest player and likes to stare at her tits—pretty sure she’s got that one worked out anyway.
I learn nothing more about this Michael Lazzoni character who may have it in for the James family but that isn’t my job to worry about right now, running around town all day and night after Morgan is a full-time job in itself. Lunches, meetings, dinners, conferences, it’s no wonder this woman doesn’t have time to date.
When Jolie hands me next week’s schedule, I frown at the fact we have to go out of town mid-week. She has a big networking workshop in San Francisco and while she’s there, a couple of meetings with potential clients, of course. Jolie will be going along with Lori and Marcus. Jolie has all the details for the hotel and I make sure that she organizes an adjoining suite to Morgan’s with me on one side and Ryan on the other. I don’t like being in unfamiliar places so I’ll scope the hotel out beforehand and get a floorplan layout from the security staff at the hotel.
Meanwhile, Friday afternoon is spent dress shopping for the gala tomorrow night which reminds me I have to get my suit pressed. I’ll have Ryan and Lennox with me as well as Marcy driving the limo and Chase has offered to tag along. I know it’s only because he’s been having phone sex with Morgan’s best friend. He just can’t leave it alone. It sucks he’s getting more than I am and he’s not even getting anything physically.
I stand outside of Gucci while Morgan splashes an eye-watering amount of money on a dress with matching shoes as she and Dixie go on a spending spree. I’m sure she’d already have something to wear in that overly ridiculous wardrobe of hers full of clothes she never wears, but who am I to judge.
The shopping spree goes on for hours. Just when I think they’re done, they stop outside a lingerie store called La Perla and it seems like I am finally about to enjoy some pay dirt for all my past sins.
As we step inside, it’s like some kind of museum for lingerie and silk nightgowns, it screams rich and classy. I glance at one of the labels and my eyes go round at the price tag.
Three hundred dollars for a pair of panties?
These girls like opulence.
The pretty sales clerk greets us and they move around the store oohing and aahing at everything they lay eyes on. The clerk’s eyes lay on me a few times as I linger in the doorway and I give her an eye roll which she smirks at as she continues to politely look busy at the desk.
Morgan’s been acting like I’m not here all day. At least Dixie has the good grace to be nice to me, and in return, I’ve been fabulous with her best friend just to piss Morgan off.
It’s fine really, in fact, it’s better this way; it’s easier for me to not think about her and keep my distance when she’s purposely ignoring me.
So, I stand by the door and pretend to look passive and disinterested. The stuff in here is fancy, lacy, and goddamned hot.
Dixie pulls out a black thong teddy that’s completely sheer in most places and holds it against her body. It probably cost more than my first car.
“Oh my God, they have this in pink,” she says, going through to the back of the rack. “Pink’s your color, babe.”
In my periphery, I see her pull the barely-there garment and hold it up against Morgan’s body, not that I need that visual as I’m already picturing it.
“So pretty,” Morgan agrees. Imagining her in it twitches me below the belt; in fact, imagining her in any of this stuff is enough to give me a raging hard-on.
“You so have to get this.”
Morgan glances at me as I stare at the wall opposite; she lowers her voice as they continue through the store.
“It’s not like I need this kind of lingerie,” she whispers. Unlucky for her, I have exceptional hearing.
“Why not?” Dixie mutters back. “You deserve it.”
I can’t be sure but she may have just rolled her eyes. I love how she’s whispering so in effect I can’t hear her; I wonder why she cares what I think.
“Yes, but still,” she goes on, still holding the pink teddy over her arm. “It’s not like I’m dating anyone.”
“Not dating anyone yet,” Dixie replies, ever the optimist. “You just need to get back in the saddle.”
“Urgh I hate that expression.” Morgan makes a face as I suppress a chuckle.
She moves to the bras then turns to the clerk and asks her to help her pick something to fit with the dress she just bought. Out comes the grey shimmery over-priced dress. The clerk admires it lovingly as they hang it from the changing room rail and she proceeds to bring out an array of eye-watering strapless bras with half cups, suitable apparently for plunging necklines.
Morgan goes into the dressing room as I move discreetly closer to the middle of the store near the desk. Just doing my job, nothing to see here.
Truth is, I’d love to cast my eyes on
what’s going on behind the curtains but that ain’t going to happen in this lifetime. Unfortunately, she isn’t about to come out and flaunt it around the store, Dixie is the lucky girl who gets to go and check on how things are progressing as she sticks her head through the curtain.
“It comes with a matching G-string and seamless Brazilianos,” the clerk says and I want to punch myself in the face. She brings the items to the changing room, then all three of them disappear in there together. It’s like a wet dream come true. If only Chase could see me now. I’ll make a point of bragging all about it later, I’m a good friend like that.
No shorter than twenty whole minutes goes by until she emerges from the changing room with said bra, G-string, and Brazilianos in hand, the pink teddy thing, and then they start looking at silk negligees in the nightwear department.
“I’ve got that mash-up thing in San Fran next week,” Morgan says idly, running her hand down a silk fitted camisole shorts set in a light peach.
“Definitely need new PJ’s,” Dixie agrees.
She buys the peach set too and a dark blue fitted nightgown with lace trim. I’d hardly call them pajamas but who am I to argue.
They pay for their purchases and Dixie smiles as we leave.
“Sorry you had to witness that,” she whispers, patting me on the arm. “But you can’t say no to La Perla, honey.”
“Girls will be girls,” I reply with a smirk.
Morgan glances at me as our eyes connect. “Had a good gawk?” Her toffee nose in the air.
There she goes again, doing what she does best.
“At what?” I reply innocently. “I waited outside the changing room, if you wanted help, all you had to do was ask.”
I turn as the clerk gives me a smile, I grin back, making sure Morgan sees me tuck the piece of paper into my top pocket.
“What’s that?” she asks as I close the door behind us.
“Her number,” I reply as we make our way towards the car.
“Her number?” she stammers with indigence in her tone. “Aren’t you meant to be working? Not picking up chicks.”
“I can’t help it if a girl wants to give me her number, I didn’t even speak to her,” I say, knowing this is annoying her. “Though I do like classy broads, so you can take me into La Perla anytime you want.”
She snickers. “Really? You sure about the classy broads part?”
“What exactly are you implying?” I wonder as we walk towards the car.
“I didn’t think classy was your style, that’s all.” She shrugs.
It’s the typical response I’d expect from her.
I put a hand over my heart. “Ouch, that hurt.”
“That would imply you have feelings,” she retorts. “Or a heart for that matter.”
“That’s where you’re wrong MJ,” I cajole. “I have a lot of feelings for La Perla as it happens.”
“You’re such a guy,” she mutters as we get to the door and I proceed to open it.
“Last time I checked,” I reply, giving her a wink. “After you.” I gesture inside and give Dixie a shit-eating grin like nothing’s wrong here.
Morgan gets into the car as Dixie shakes her head.
“Sexually frustrated,” she whispers at me with a knowing nod.
I laugh out loud as Dixie disappears into the car. I’m starting to wonder if she and Chase aren’t made for each other, they both have the same dirty minds.
I shut the door behind her and climb in next to Marcy.
I have a feeling that Morgan’s best friend might be right but I’m not the guy to relieve her in that department. I’m not suicidal for one and I don’t have a death wish either, though I’m starting to wonder if that even matters.
Fuck La Perla to hell and back.
16
Morgan
“For ten thousand a plate, you’d think there’d be more choices for a vegetarian,” I mutter to Dixie as we peruse the menu while we drink champagne and smile at people we don’t know.
Dixie coughs and splutters and I give her a helpful pat on the back.
“You okay, girl?”
“Ten thousand dollars a plate?” she whispers.
“Don’t need to advertise it to the universe,” I reply, smiling and waving at a couple of people passing by.
“Thank God I have rich friends.” She fans herself rapidly with her clutch purse.
“I got your back, baby. Anyway, who would I talk to properly about all my shit without you, Dix?”
“You make a very valid point,” she replies, recovering from her coughing fit as she dabs the front of her dress with a napkin. “But I’m not sure I’m worth ten thousand dollars, I mean I know it’s for charity and all, but… rich people are really dumb.”
I laugh. “Yes, you’re probably right, but it’s for a good cause.”
Jolie returns from the ladies room in her canary yellow silk dress. She’s tall, leggy, and looks like she’s about to knock all these old farts dead.
“Where are all the hot guys?” she moans as I hold her champagne glass out to her.
It’s all she thinks about, I swear to God.
“We’re here for charity,” I remind her.
“I repeat, where are all the hot guys?”
“Jolie, is your mind always on the pepperoni?” I retort with deliberately round eyes, hoping she’ll stop.
“Ha!” she laughs. “Says you with the world’s hottest bodyguard.”
We all simultaneously glance over to Jaxon, nothing obvious, and I suppress a groan. Of course, he’d look good in a monkey suit; he’d look good in a paper bag.
He’s freshly shaven and he’s gelled his hair back, he smelled like a walking orgasm in the car. I have no idea how a man smells that good but it should be illegal.
“Jesus, does he do house calls?” Dixie mutters as I turn back to them.
“Damn, Morgan, I’d pay to ride that pony,” Jolie agrees.
“You two are disgusting, he works for me,” I remind them. “You shouldn’t be saying things like that.”
“We’re merely stating a fact,” Jolie says, pointing at me. “He’s hot, there’s no need to get all defensive and weird about it, it’s the truth, he’s the hottest guy here by far.”
“I’m not doing any such thing,” I splutter. “I’m just saying it’s inappropriate.”
Somebody has to pretend to be the professional here, people are within earshot after all.
“So, admit he’s banging hot—suit or no suit. In fact, I’d prefer no suit,” she goes on. “Butt naked if we’re being honest.”
I roll my eyes.
“She can’t,” Dixie says out of the side of her mouth. “That’ll mean she has to admit something nice about Jaxon.”
“Why do you hate him again?” Jolie asks, tilting her head at me, trying to fathom a reason why anyone would.
“I don’t hate him,” I correct her. “And for your information, he may look fine in a suit and be able to charm the pants off both of you but mark my words he is not a nice person.”
“But he can be sweet, right? He made you coffee and bought you a breakfast burrito,” Dixie reminds me, giving me a pointed look. “He obviously isn’t that bad or as bad as you’re making out.”
Yep, I told her everything, even the part when Ethan rang me in the alleyway and Jaxon gave me his handkerchief.
“What?” Jolie screeches. “When did this happen?”
Thanks a lot, Dixie.
“Morning after our night out,” Dixie replies for me, using all the innuendo she can muster.
“How did he get into your apartment? Wait, did he sleep there?” she cries. She stares at me agog, waiting for me to speak.
“You’re letting your mind run away with you,” I scold. “I wouldn’t touch Jaxon Westbrook with a ten-foot pole, much less let him stay in my apartment. He has a key, remember?”
No need to give her all the gory details. I give Dixie a silent warning look not to say anything; I don’t need Jo
lie knowing all of my business. We are friends but she also works for me too and I really don’t need all of my information broadcast to the rest of the universe.
“I’d touch him with or without the pole,” she mutters.
“Me too,” Dixie says as her eyes flick to the other side of the room to Chase.
“Speaking of hot guys?” I cough, trying to switch tact and get the heat off me.
“Wait, what did I miss?” Jolie asks, looking around like she’s missed something big.
“Jaxon’s friend,” I say, nodding my head towards Chase. “The dark handsome hottie at three o’clock.”
She looks completely the wrong way until I adjust her by the shoulders. “Jesus, girls. Where do I get a man who looks like that? This is so unfair!” she squeals.
“All the wrong places,” I reply. “You want a nice guy, Jolie, I told you, go to the library, the dog park or a chess seminar or something where nice guys hang out, not a night club and definitely not on one of those dating apps you have.”
“I deleted that app,” she tells me, distracted.
“He’s probably a major player,” Dixie interjects as she still gazes at Chase, I can tell she’s contemplating whether that is really true or not. “He’s got that look about him.”
“Who cares, he’s got a hot body,” Jolie remarks. “And those eyes when he smiles, I’m a sucker for pretty eyes.”
“You’re a sucker for pretty everything,” I tell her unceremoniously.
He looks up and gives us all a flash of his white teeth as he grins our way. We all simultaneously swoon; he really does have a nice smile and nice eyes. And now we’ve all been caught staring.
“I mean, it should be illegal,” Dixie comments, trying to not make her lips move as she speaks. “To walk around looking like that.”
“Someone should seriously go and shag the brains out of him,” Jolie says, downing the rest of her champagne and reaching for another by a passing waiter. “If you don’t, I’m going to.”
