by Amy Marie
Gene left the circle of people he was talking to and headed toward the side of the room where I couldn’t see. I slid off my stool and followed from a distance, my stealth instincts I’d honed as a child coming back to me like a long-lost friend. It didn’t take much of an IQ to determine Gene was headed to the bathroom. Perfect.
I followed him inside, my mouth temporarily dropping at the discovery that the bathroom was just as over the top as the rest of the club. More marble, more gold, and an attendant who passed out small hand towels instead of a paper towel dispenser. There weren’t even any urinals. I’m surprised there wasn’t someone there to wipe everyone’s asses.
I made a pretense of washing my hands while I waited for Gene to leave his stall. I didn’t have long to wait. I tossed the towel I’d been given into a basket behind the attendant and reached into my breast pocket to get my comb. Pretending to drop it, I “bumped” into Gene, apologizing profusely as I bent to retrieve it, then finished fussing with my hair.
To my surprise, Gene didn’t act like the pretentious asshole I expected. “No worries,” he answered. “Enjoy your evening.” He nodded at the attendant and me and returned to the club. I waited a couple of seconds, then followed.
Finding an empty chair in a back corner, I sank into it. No one would be able to surprise me from behind, and I had a clear view of everything. My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Unknown: Did you get it?
Me: yes
I watched as Jeff walked to the predetermined drop spot where I’d hidden the phone. He recovered it, took it to a corner table on the opposite side of the room. I didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but to anyone else, it looked like he was using a portable charger.
When he was done, he pocketed both devices and headed toward the elevator. Son of a bitch. He was trying to leave without me. He secured the elevator door just as I got there with an evil grin.
I darted to the emergency stairs I’d noted earlier. The elevator was slow; I was fast. I caught up with Jeff just as he started to open the door. I grabbed his arm.
“You didn’t say anything about stealing the phone. Not to mention you owe me the rest of the money.”
He tried to shake my arm from him. “I’m afraid I don’t have it on me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, you don’t.”
“You’re welcome to stop by the office tomorrow to get it, although, no doubt Mena will be angry since you stood her up today. I’ll be happy to pass along your regards, however. I’m sure she’ll find it very interesting to find out you and I were doing business together, which she’ll see if I show her the security footage.” He looked thoughtful. “She doesn’t care for me very much, though, I’m afraid.”
“You bastard.”
“Yes, actually, I am. Goodbye, Mr. Prince.” He pushed past the door and started for his car.
“Yep, sure. See ya’ around,” I hollered.
He must have been alarmed at the casualness of my statement because he looked over his shoulder at me. With just a few inches of space, I held up a phone, twisting my hand a bit so he could see it was Gene’s. The door shut before he could reach it. I waited another minute until he made his next discovery.
“Oliver!” He beat on the door, unable to get in.
Whistling, I strolled back to the elevator. “Sorry, Jeff,” I said to myself, rolling his special key card across my fingers. “As you say, if you’re not the most powerful, you’re nobody. And you are definitely not him.”
Chapter 10
Oli
Back down in the club, the bartender asked, "What can I get you?"
"I'm looking for Mr. DeLampe."
"Yeah? I'm not sure he's around." He narrowed his eyes at me. "What do you want him for?"
"I have something for him."
He held out his hand. "I can give it to him for you."
"Nope. I want to deliver it personally.”
“He’s in the back. He could be a while.”
"I’ll wait.”
“Suit yourself. Want a drink?”
"I'll take a beer.” I named the one I had earlier. He popped off the top and handed the bottle to me. “Not too many in here like beer. Nice to serve something different.”
I swiveled so I could watch the room once again. Since I wasn’t watching Jeff specifically, I got to watch everyone else. There was nothing unusual that made me think there was that much power taking place, just a lot of drinking and a lot of dough being spent. Maybe it was all happening “in the back” where Gene supposedly was.
I palmed the phone in my pocket. It had only taken a few hundred to convince me to take it. I wondered what it would end up costing me to give it back.
"I heard you're looking for me."
I coughed into my beer. For such a large man, he moved quietly. I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to.
"I found something of yours." I held out the phone.
“How careless of me.” It was all I could do to keep my expression neutral at his shrewd look. “Are you a member here?”
“I was a guest of one. Honestly, you might want to revoke his membership.” I put the card down. “Seems he’s rather careless with his things, too.”
“I see. Well, thank you for returning both to me.” He punched a button on his phone. "Looks like it's almost dead. Could have sworn it was fully charged earlier."
I shrugged and got up to leave, signaling to the bartender for my bill.
"Carlos," Gene called to the bartender. "No charge for this gentleman." His gaze returned to me. "Please stay and finish. Have another if you like. You look like you could use a little break." He chuckled. "Unless, of course, there's something better waiting for you, like maybe a pretty girl, hmm?"
An image of Mena smiling and twirling her silky black hair around a finger flashed in my brain. "I hope so.”
"Ah, I know that look." Gene looked like he was going to say something, but instead, he waved his phone. "Okay, then. Thanks for bringing this."
I didn’t bother finishing my drink, glad to be done with this place. I was two steps closer to the exit when I paused. "Hey, Mr. DeLampe..."
He looked over his shoulder. I wasn't sure I should say something, but long ago, I'd learned to trust my gut. Coming here had been one of the few exceptions, and it still didn't sit right with me. "Does your phone normally run hot?"
"What do you mean?"
"It's just that if no one has used it since you last did, it shouldn’t feel hot. Maybe check it out before you use it for anything."
I rode the elevator to the top, ready to get back to my life, as low as it may feel right now. No matter how much I might think he's an ass, there was still truth to Jeff's words. I was a nobody with nothing to offer Mena. If only…
I opened the door, only to be blocked by two police officers. "Oliver Prince?"
"Yeah. What do you want?"
"You're under arrest for theft. Come with us."
"Oh, you're kidding." I knew the deal as they read my rights, cuffed me, and put me in the patrol car.
Seriously. Could this day get any worse? Whether it had been Jeff Farr or Gene DeLampe who’d called them, I was screwed either way.
There wasn’t much to do in a jail cell other than to think. As my head rested against the cinder block wall, I wondered what Mena was doing. Had she tried to call me? Had Jeff fed her lies about me—or the truth? Neither way was a win for me. She’d never want anything to do with me. And the big one, what the fuck was I thinking when I agreed to go with Jeff in the first place? After this event, I'd lost any chance of ever seeing Jack or Jilly again for sure. Maybe that was for the best, though. Obviously, I did not make good choices.
Except Mena. She’d been a great choice. Well, Jasmena, now that I knew her full name. Funny, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask if it was a nickname.
Jasmena Knight, Executive Vice President and daughter of the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. Hell, even living in a tent, I’d had some of thei
r products. Jeff Farr was right about one thing—there was no way someone like me had any business being with someone like her.
"Prince?" a voice called. The sound of metal on metal clanged. "Charges have been dropped. You're out of here."
“Huh?”
The cop who unlocked the cell door looked me over. "You've got some powerful friends, son."
Did Jeff come back for me? Or had Mena somehow found out? Shit, I wasn’t ready to face either of them, but anything was better than staying in here. I didn't waste any time grabbing my jacket, signing the paperwork to get my stuff back, and didn’t look back until I was able to step out the front doors.
It was quiet outside. I guessed it was shortly past midnight.
"Mr. Prince."
The sudden voice caused me to jump. I twisted to my left to see Gene DeLampe approaching. "Shit. You scared me."
He stepped further into the light. "Why did you tell me to have my phone checked out?"
Not one for small talk, I guessed. There wasn't any reason not to tell him. "Devices with malware tend to run hot and drain the battery faster. You mentioned you thought you had just charged it, and I noticed it was warm, so it was a wild guess."
"Did you steal it?"
Shit. "Someone hired me to bump into you."
"I see.” His tone suggested he really did. “Did you tamper with it?"
"What? No. I saw some funny shit, got it back, and delivered it to you, and got arrested for my trouble. Thanks for that. It wasn't worth the free drink, that's for sure."
"I didn't call the police on you, Mr. Prince. I have other ways of responding to people who betray me.”
Fuuuuck! Was this guy part of the mafia?
"Why don't you take a ride with me."
It didn't sound like a suggestion. This dude might have some unusual taste in clothes, but there was no mistake; he was a powerful man. He had a high-cost club, for fuck's sake, with influential members.
I held up my hands. "Look. I don't know you. I don't know what you do, and I don't want to know. The guy with the key card asked me to do him a favor. After I’d done it, I wished I hadn’t. I tried to make it right. Is he better or worse than you? I don't know, because I don’t know you, but I’ve figured him out. I don’t know if that’s good enough for you, but no thanks, I'm not going to get in your car. If you're going to try to fit me for cement shoes, you're gonna have to catch me first."
I waited to hear the cock of a gun or some other noise that signaled my death. Instead, I heard laughter. Full out belly chuckles. "Oh, you're an imaginative one. Would it help for me to tell you I've never killed anyone?”
“Yeah. Sure. And I should trust you because…”
“Because if I really wanted to kill you, you would have never left my building, but that’s just too messy. Oliver, you may as well know I never believed I dropped my phone. I apologize you were inconvenienced by an arrest. I would have arrived sooner, but I delayed while I reviewed all of my camera footage for The Cave as well as…elsewhere. I decided to wait and see how it played out. It seems we were both played. That puts us on the same team. Now, I’d like to help you.”
“Yeah, well, the last time someone wanted to help me, I ended up here, so…”
“Tell you what, we'll go back into the Police Station and let them know that you are coming back to my place, and if you don't check in tomorrow, they're to look for you. It'll all be recorded on camera."
I rolled my eyes. "Right. Because you obviously don't know how to hack into computers."
He laughed again. It was actually a nice laugh with a friendly ring to it, not the kind that made you clench your ass. "You're a smart one, Oliver Prince. I like you."
"Why should I go with you?"
"I have my own offer for you, but it's not to be discussed here. You have my word; you'll be returned safely to whatever location you desire, whether or not you decide to accept my help."
He walked to a limo parked nearby, not bothering to check if I followed.
I looked over my shoulder to the station and considered telling them where I was going. But really, what was the use? Men like Gene DeLampe obviously knew their way around the rules.
Ah, hell. I didn't have anything more to lose, did I? And my gut was squeezing itself to death this time either.
A short ride later, we were back at The Cave, only this time we didn't go down to the bar. Instead, I found myself standing in an office upstairs in a room that might have passed as a formal parlor in anyone else’s home. In front of a fireplace was a large desk with nothing but a computer screen to one side. That was the only modern touch. The rest looked like it had been decorated straight from an antique store and art museum, with Persian carpets, gilded framed artwork on the walls, and old looking books and knickknacks on his shelves. Rich. Imposing. But oddly welcoming.
DeLampe leaned back in one of the club chairs in front of his desk. He kept his hands folded on his rather paunchy stomach as he observed me.
"Please, Mr. Prince. Have a seat."
I moved closer but chose to stand. I knew my odds of making it out the door were slim, but I felt more in control on my feet.
Mr. DeLampe looked mildly annoyed. "Mr. Prince—"
"Oli."
He appeared pleased. "Call me Gene. Now that we’re on a first-name basis, will you please take a seat?”
I did.
"Now, I know you didn’t orchestrate this misadventure, but there is the pesky little matter that you chose to participate in the original scheme. I'm curious to know why."
"Just the most basic reason.”
"So, you needed the money?"
"Money helps. I'm tired of people always looking down on me for being poor. I can't help the situation I was born into. No one would look at me the same way if I was rich.”
Gene templed his fingers at his chin and tapped them against his lips for several seconds before he leaned back in his chair. "You know the saying money doesn't buy happiness, right?"
"Yeah, but I'd rather be miserable in a mansion than in a tent."
Gene laughed. I was growing to like his laughs; they felt genuine and a little rough, like maybe they didn’t happen often. "I like you, kid. Tell me, what would you do if you had more money, more respect?”
That was easy. I told Gene about Jack and Jilly and wanting to foster them and provide for them, but I couldn’t afford anything acceptable in the eyes of Child Protective Services. I wanted to be able to take classes full time instead of trying to work them around whatever work I could get. And then there was Mena. I wanted to give her everything.
"You're in love."
I cleared my throat. "It's not that simple."
"Ah, unrequited love. Tell me more about her. Is she with someone else? Or she just doesn't know of your affections?"
I snorted. "You Dr. Phil or something?"
Gene wrinkled his nose. "No. I'm the last to give advice on love. But I like to think I have a talent for seeing things as they really are. I've been known to help a few people clarify things or find a solution."
I remembered Jeff's words that Gene was power hungry. But all I saw was a man who appeared genuinely sympathetic. And maybe it was the effect of alcohol that I didn't usually drink, but I found myself telling him about Mena. "She's beautiful, like really beautiful. And not just on the outside, but she's kind, too. Smart."
"So, what's the problem?"
"It's complicated."
“Do you know what I do for a living?”
I shook my head, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I know a lot of people, some on the up and up and some that would make your hands so dirty you can never get them completely clean. I help people make connections and navigate difficult situations all the time. I help them negotiate partnerships or IOU’s, and I charge a lot for those favors.”
“You mean like a crime boss?”
Gene laughed. “No, none of them work for me. I merely arrange the contacts. What they do f
rom there on is their business. I’ve heard everything, I promise. I can't make someone fall in love with you, but maybe we can figure something out."
I shook my head. "I'm not good enough for her."
"Don't be so self-deprecating."
Fancy words, but I got the gist of it. "Her father is the head of a big company, and she's going to take over. She's rich and smart and I'm..."
"Everything else," he finished the words I couldn't.
"Yeah. Nobody ever looks at me and sees anything other than a high school dropout."
"Listen." He picked up his phone. "You were right about this. My guys found a spyware app on it."
"I didn’t—"
"I know you didn't. It's state-of-the-art, top-notch. And only available on the black market. It's hard to detect before real damage is done. Your tip saved a lot of asses. I already told you, I'm a problem solver. I'll handle what happened with my phone, but that leaves you."
I swallowed hard. I was a problem to be solved. That's just great...said no one ever.
"Don't be so nervous. The way I see it, I owe you, and when I say I owe you, trust me, you ain't never had a friend like me. I have a proposition..."
Chapter 11
Oli
The past forty-eight hours had been nothing short of miraculous. When Gene said he had a proposition, I'd thought he meant using me to get back at Jeff or some other scheme. Never, and I mean never, did I anticipate his next words.
"I like you, Oliver. I think you're an unusual man of character. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Like you, I grew up with almost nothing."
My eyes popped out of my head.
Gene laughed. "I know, I've made up for it, some would say a bit too lavishly. But it also allows me to indulge in projects from time to time. I owe you, and I don’t like to be in debt, so I'm going to basically give you three wishes for anything you want. I'm choosing the first one for you to break the ice and allow you to see only part of what I’m capable of. You already said money solves a lot of problems. I get that. It also creates them. It isn't a cure-all, so just remember that."
