No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (51 page)

They had gone all out with the layout, and the place was immense. Each of them were getting their own private office, even Tim, and the spacious front of house would be Sheri’s domain.

Walking in through the single door, which was made of bulletproof glass—lots of expensive fancy equipment—with
NOLA RECORDS
written in bold white letters, one entered the generous waiting room with Sheri’s huge curved desk being the focal point. Custom-made to her specifications, it was a work of art in itself really with a glittering gray polished granite counter. The floor was of the same granite in tile form with deep red walls and black-framed posters of the bands’ favorite inspirations. Squishy, butter-soft black leather sofas stretched along the walls, and black lacquered coffee tables graced the spaces between. A water dispenser stood against one wall with an impressive mini coffee bar stationed right next to it.

Beyond the waiting room stood a wide archway with even more bulletproofed glass double-doors, fixed with chrome handles that you had to pull open. Once through the archway, you had a fat corridor with rooms lining about a third of the way deep. These were their offices, six of them, and they were impressive in themselves. Each of the guys had decorated their personal spaces.

All except one, which was bare and waiting for the fifth member.

Phil had made his office look like Old World luxury with a metal twist. The furniture was brown leather studded with brass, and his large coffee table looked as though it had been dragged out of the swamp and left to dry. The walls were a light creamy color, vintage posters hung in brass frames, and picture frames filled with my face graced his huge desk.

The weirdo.

Out past the offices was the actual studio, built in a massive oval structure, with several doors leading into it. At the very head, lined with curved glass walls, sat the production box, where they could listen and do production work. Not knowing exactly what that entailed, I had simply nodded and smiled as Phil showed me all the gadgets and soundboards, clueless to their functions. All I knew was that they were extremely excited with what they had created.

Curving around the massive oval studio, dead center of the warehouse, were two hallways, one on each side, which led around the smaller rooms used for storage.

Past the Oval was an open space for the guys to just jam out. Speakers sat at the ready for when needed, and a few small benches and end tables sat around the area for spectators.

At the very end of the warehouse, they had built a massive brick wall and painted it black, creating a large area to house the shit-ton of equipment they owned for touring, including speakers, lighting equipment, rigging, and all sorts of crap I had had no clue that they even owned. That was locked up tight with its own alarm pad and code.

“What do you think?” Phil had asked me at the end of the last tour, my hand in his, his eyes bursting with the light of the incredibly proud.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” I’d replied.

Excitement and exhaustion were running rampant through the clinic. Rita had a catering service come in to serve a festive lunch for everyone, making use of the spa kitchen. No clients or patients had been booked from twelve to two, so we were celebrating with fantastic food and nonalcoholic cocktails.

“Dude, what
are
these things?” Gavin asked me, waving a tiny quiche in the air.

“Mini quiche.”

“They’re fucking awesome,” he said before shoving a miniscule ham-and-cheddar bite of deliciousness into his mouth.

“Where’s Rita?” I asked after twenty minutes into the lunch party. “She set this whole thing up. She should be all over the place.”

“I’ve got a little something for her—stress relief balls,” Gavin said with a snort.

“Me, too—not the balls. I got her an aromatherapy set of her favorite spiced pomegranate.”

“She’s probably in her office,” he said, looking glum. “What the fuck happened to her?”

“You know, I think we should go check on her. We can drop off our presents.”

He nodded, and we slipped out, unnoticed by the rest of The Center’s staff of masseurs and beauticians. Gavin did sneak another plateful of mini quiche on the way out though.

Rita’s door was cracked, and when I rapped my knuckles on it, she called out, “Who is it?” in a rather harsh tone.

“Me and Gavin. We’ve got presents for you,” I called back, exchanging a querulous glance with my work partner in crime.

We heard her sigh heavily before she said, “Come in.”

Rita Holmes, sex-bomb and savvy Dragon Lady, looked like utter shit. Dark circles ringed her eyes behind her black-rimmed glasses that not even a heavy coat of her concealer could hide. On top of the exhausted look of the constantly terrified, her eyes were also red and swollen from weeping. Already skinny to the point of looking bony, she had lost at least another ten pounds and now appeared emaciated. Designer clothes hung off her starved frame, and she hadn’t bothered to do anything with her outrageously curly hair.

“Rita…” I whispered, despair filling my chest and voice.
Maybe it’s actually something physical, like an illness? With all the weight she’s lost…

Gavin went on the offense though, knowing Rita would only respect a bit of outright in-her-face. “Rita, what the fuck?”

“Happy fucking holidays to you, too, asshole!” she snapped, summoning the inner dragon.

“Enough of this bullshit!” He back-kicked her door shut.

Nice touch, Gavin.
Bravo.

“
Excuse me
?” she shrieked.

“Seriously, we’re done with this.” Gavin rounded on her, stalking into the room, his face a thunderous mask of fury. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

She looked mad enough to spit, but then something inside her wilted, and her skeletal frame slumped. Rita glanced between the two of us, fighting some internal struggle.

Finally, she sighed and pointed at the armchairs before her desk. “Have a seat, both of you.”

We did, and so did she, sitting in her throne-like office chair. She appeared ridiculously small in it, and my heart ached over what she’d been reduced to.

“Is it The Center?” Gavin asked.

She shook her head. “I fucked up, you guys. I fucked up, and it’s way worse than you think.”

“Oh gods, Rita…” I groaned.

“Over Halloween weekend, I went to a costume orgy—you know, like I normally would. I ended up hooking up with a man, and we had a great time.”

My stomach squirmed. I respected that she was being open and honest with Gavin and me, but her lifestyle wasn’t anything I could imagine. Even with my peculiar upbringing, I couldn’t wrap my head around Rita’s sex life.

That’s just because there’s only one man for me. Phil lived like Rita once, and it nearly destroyed him because there’s only me for him. Some people don’t have what I have. Some people don’t
want
what I have, and that’s okay.

“This man was under the impression that there was something more between us. You can imagine my surprise when he showed up at my apartment Monday evening after Halloween with his suitcase of shit, informing me he had left his wife and family to be with me.”

“Shut the fuck up!” I said.

“I know!” she half-shouted in exasperation. “When the hell have I ever given
anyone
the impression I wanted anything other than a good lay? And for this man to just up and leave his family over a freaky weekend of sex was unthinkable!”

“Did you know he was married when you hooked up with him?” Gavin asked quietly.

“No! I met him at an
orgy
, Gavin! I hardly knew his name! We ended up back at my place and shagged each other raw until Monday morning when I kicked him out and came to work!”

“So, specifics aside,” I said, wanting her to get to the point here, “what’s happened since?”

The energy in the dragon’s lair turned damp and chilled. It throbbed with a wet sort of terror that seeped through the body and into the soul.

Rita’s face crumpled, and she flattened her lips to suppress a sob. Taking a few deep breaths through her nose, she cleared the urge from her chest. “He went berserk when I told him I wasn’t on the same page as he was. He freaked out on me, screaming about leaving his wife and kids. It was terrifying. A neighbor called the police, and I got a restraining order on him. It didn’t do anything though. I see him everywhere. A-and…”

“And?” asked Gavin, straightening up in his seat.

“He’s some sort of IT genius. He’s broken into The Center several times, and he has had live feed cameras and wires installed.”

“
What
?” Gavin and I both shouted.

She nodded. “He’s had our surveillance and alarm disabled at least three times, and he’s gotten away with it. With my apartment complex, too.”

That was actually more terrifying because Rita was wealthy and lived in a high-security building designed to protect the prestigious residents within.

“He’s somehow been able to get around everything. And…Genghis is missing,” she finally broke. “My little man has been missing for five days now, and there’s no way he could get out of the apartment
and
the complex without being removed!”

Genghis—her little tabby cat of a man, the only man she’d had any desire to have a relationship with.

I felt sick, and by the look on Gavin’s face, he was regretting that last plate of mini quiche.

Rita sniffed and squared her shoulders. “I don’t want you two to worry about me, okay?”

“Of course we’re worried about you!” snapped Gavin, waves of angry heat pulsing in his voice, burning away a little of the damp energy encasing us.

“I’ve had the place swept of bugs again, and we’re in the all clear. The police team in charge of this came in just last night and found everything, and it’s all in evidence. I’ve hired a security detail as well for when we come back to work, just to be safe. When they catch this guy, he’s going down.”

“And in the meantime?” I asked.

“In the meantime, I’m going away for a very much needed vacation, and I won’t be telling anyone where I’m going or when. Just rest assured that I’ll be gone until we reopen with the New Year. Now…” She reached under her desk and pulled out two gift bags. “I have presents for you, too,” she stated, forcing a smile.

Stone-faced, we handed over our wrapped gifts, which she genuinely seemed delighted in unwrapping. Gavin got a fancy shaving kit, and I was gifted with a fine set of refillable walnut-and-white gold pens.

“Wow,” I breathed, my fingers itching to try them out. “Thank you.”

“Right, well…” She stood, corporate Dragon Lady once more. “If we’re all done here.”

Dismissed, Gavin and I stood and made our way back to the party, appetites destroyed.

With the clinic shut down and locked up, we all headed into the dark parking lot, waving our good-byes. Phil was picking me up in the Black Beauty today.

“How was work?” he asked as I hopped in.

“Good. Remember how I told you that Rita was acting all weird and shit?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Gavin and I found out why,” I said.

I told him everything she had told us. The more I explained, the stonier his expression became. As I finished, he shook his head in disbelief.

“I don’t want you back there until this guy is caught, Kenna.”

“I have patients, Phil,” I said, as though that was explanation enough.

“What if this guy ends up goin’ into the clinic and goes fuckin’ postal or some shit?”

“Yeah, we thought of that. Gavin and I discussed screening all new patients. The guy has a restraining order, and I guess Rita’s hired a security detail for when we come back.”

Phil was not appeased.

“Look, it’s officially the holidays. Can we not freak out about this? I won’t even be back there for sixteen whole days! I don’t want this hanging over our heads, especially not tonight.”

His huge hand squeezed my thigh. “Sure.”

Tonight, we were all going to Bougainvillea. Devil’s Advocate was headlining, and NOLA Records were offering them a record deal. It would be the first of many—or so we all hoped. The Space Monkeys were also going to get an offer, but they were on a small club tour in Lafayette, so they would have to wait.