Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1) (17 page)

I
mostly laid
in bed all day, watching reruns of Friends, and eating a ridiculous amount of food. The best treatment for a hangover. Alexis gave me space while she did her homework, and then went out to lunch with a friend. It was nice to have time with my thoughts, but it also set me on edge. I was suddenly counting down the days until I would be back at the club. I was also counting down the minutes until a cop showed up at my door, and ruined my whole world.

Once I was in hour three of my small pity party, I received a text from a number I didn't recognize.

Will I see you this week?

I typed back,
Who is this?

It's Shane from the library. I thought we could hook up again.
He even put a winky face. It was cute, but it wasn't what I wanted anymore. I now had higher aspirations, but I had to let him down gently.

Sorry, I have midterms.
It was true, I did have midterms, and I really needed to study, but my hangover wasn't getting the books into my head through osmosis. Not that I really expected that to work, anyway.

Sucks. I was hoping we could spend more time at the library together.

Geez. He wasn’t giving up easily.
I'm sorry it's just not going to work out for me. I have other things to focus on.

Like school? Or like a new job?

How the hell did he know? No one was supposed to know. That was the rules. There was no way he was there last night, but did he know someone who was? I didn't type anything back. I just sat on my bed with my knees curled up under my chin. I certainly wasn't close with my parents. My mom was a deadbeat, and my dad was remarried, but if he had found out that I was an escort, he would certainly disown me. I had a younger brother to consider, too. He looked up to me. Maybe I should end this before it even begins. I pulled out Monique's business card, and started to type her number, when one another text came through from Shane.

Your secret is safe with me. Just be careful.

I wasn't going to type back because I didn't want to confirm or deny what I was doing with my free time, but it was interesting to me that he was warning me, not trying to blackmail me. Normally, he was such a pompous ass that I would've totally expected him to try to out me as fast as he could. But, instead, this kinder side of him had taken me by surprise. And, it had certainly put me into an overwhelming spiral. One text had made me rethink everything. What would another week do?

It didn't take long for me to find out.

I
studied all day Monday
, to catch up on my readings from the weekend, and by Tuesday, I was ready to take on the world and my midterms. But, as I put on my sweatpants and a hoodie to catch my 8 AM, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I didn’t look right somehow; I didn’t look like myself anymore. I mean I looked like me, but not how I could look. The club had showed me that. Things could be different for me.

I wanted to be in the corset and ruffled panties with a pair of high heels and deep red lipstick. It made me feel confident and beautiful. But, when I walked into my class in my sweatpants, I just felt like every other girl that was taking the test. Though looking at some of their hair, I could see I fared better than others, and one girl actually look like she pulled some out. I felt sorry for her. I was still definitely concerned about my grades, but considering I was waiting for cops show up at any moment, I had bigger fish to fry. But I kept my head down, and did my work the rest of the week, soaring through my midterms and feeling good about myself by the time Thursday rolled around. I had a final Friday morning, but it was an essay, and I decided to turn it in early, in case I was occupied for the entire night once again. I prayed that this time it wouldn't be with a murder.

I had been watching the news all week; his wife had definitely been behind it. She was splashed across every news headline. They claimed that she knew about his multiple mistresses, and how he never paid any attention to her anymore. Apparently, they'd been living in separate homes for over a year. I just felt bad for the children; they were all adults, but having their names smeared in the tabloids wasn't fair to them. Their mother had gone off her rocker, and honestly, to me, it had seemed like their father was just a lonely old man. The kids didn't seem like people that deserved this kind of attention.

On Thursday afternoon, I watched them parade the wife around in handcuffs in front of the precinct. I heard Alexis come in, as I sat on the couch, glued to the TV. But I tore myself away to focus on her. She had been a bit more stressed out than I was about midterms. It was surprising because her grades were usually really good. When she got home, I understood why she was so worried.

She flopped down on the couch next to me, looking completely exhausted. She put her hand over her eyes, and shook her head in frustration. “What's going on with you? I mean midterms weren’t really that bad.” Honestly, they hadn't been as difficult as I was expecting.

She pulled her hand away from her face. “My dad is coming to visit. He thinks that I don't focus enough on school, and he wants to make sure that I'm not partying all the time.”

“Oh.” Alexis's relationship with her father was a bit strained. When her mother took her on shopping trips in all the famous cities in the world, her dad paid for it. But he never came along, always too wrapped up in the business world to take time to see his own daughter. And any time he did come, it was just to tell Alexis that she wasn't doing a good enough job. It always riled me up, though I never said anything to her about it.

“I don't understand why he doesn't think I'm doing a good enough job. I mean, I made the Dean's List last semester. Just because I am hanging out with some guys, and going to some nightclubs doesn't mean I can't keep my head on straight. Right?”

I nodded. “Of course you're right. Your grades are fine, I’m sure. When was the last time you saw him?”

She shrugged. “Maybe Thanksgiving? I don't really remember. Oh God, that's terrible too.”

“What's terrible?”

“That I can't remember the last time I saw him. Like, I think he was there for Thanksgiving Eve, but my mom had a huge party, so I don't even remember if I saw him. Oh, Calla, what do I do?”

I looked around our apartment, and I knew exactly what we needed to do. “The first thing that we’re going to do is hide all the booze.” I pointed to the top of our cabinets, where we had at least ten bottles of liquor, and a few other bottles of wine that had been given to us as gifts.

She made a face. “Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea. And, then, I'm also going to have to hide my lingerie that’s hung in the back of my closet in the trunk.” The trunk. It was where we hid everything we were embarrassed about when someone important was coming over. Sex toys, condoms, porn, and any lingerie that we had. The trunk was infamous. We never actually told guys about it, but somehow they already knew. I think it was just that type of talk that happened in the gym when guys were showering together or doing something else equally manly. Not that a bunch of straight guys in the shower was that manly.

“I will vacuum and dust before work tonight. I'm sure it'll be fine. How long is he staying?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean he’ll probably just come for dinner tonight, and then stay for his meeting in the morning. I doubt he’ll stay any longer than that. It would definitely fill his quota for family time for the year. Wait. Did you just say that you have to work tonight? But it's Thursday.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I'm on tonight, tomorrow, and Saturday. Though I'm not really sure how it works. If I get a date tonight, then would I see someone else tomorrow? It seems kind of weird to me.”

She shook her head. “It's all weird to me.”

She decided not to press any further, and stood up, moving over to the kitchen where she grabbed a stool so she could start to pretend to reach the bottles. After she had missed three times, I offered to trade places with her. I could tell she wanted to do it on her own, but short girl problems made her realize she needed my help.

A
s I arrived
at the club that night, I felt like everyone's eyes were on me. I had barely walked through the door when Monique pulled me aside by the arm.

“Everyone is talking. They've seen it all on the news. Has anyone come to you?”

I shook my head. “No. No cops, no reporters, no one knew I was there. I don't know how you got that detective to keep his mouth shut but thank you.” I felt like I was on pins and needles all week. Anytime someone opened the door in one of my silent midterm halls, I would look up, anticipating handcuffs and a news crew, but it never came. Monique had certainly done her job to keep the lid on my situation.

“Well, good. However, some of the girls are little bit upset. They've known the judge for years. So just give them some space, okay?”

“Sure. Wait, like space meaning I shouldn't be here?”

She looked me up and down. “Girl, please. No one is going to stop you from making any money. Oh, that's right, money. Here's yours. It's just a little something, but it's a preview of what can come. Good luck tonight.” She gave me a white envelope; it felt heavy in my hands. I didn't want to open it in front of all the other girls, so I stepped out into the hallway, and just took a little peek. There was at least a thousand dollars in there… in all hundreds. I hadn't even done anything, and I'd still made a grand. Enough to cover my rent for almost two months. I walked back into the dressing room, and put my money in my bag. I grabbed the black corset and matching ruffled panties off of the rack, and got dressed. A tall blonde walked up behind me.

“Hi, I’m Vivienne. Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened to you last weekend. Some of us have been there before. Though, it doesn't usually happen to the nice guys.” Her voice was like velvet, and I couldn't tell if she was being sincere. But somehow she put some sort of trance over me, and I couldn't look away. She had almost translucent skin and wore deep red lipstick with a shiny blonde bob. She was incredible.

“Oh, thanks. Yeah, it was pretty rough.”

She nodded. “I'm sure it was. I remember when Jimmy got whacked last year; it was terrible. News crews everywhere, cops questioning me for months afterwards…”

I interrupted her. “Months?”

She shrugged. “Well, I mean Jimmy had a bit of the history. And I was with him through a lot of it. I hadn't been to the club in over a year when I came back single.”

“You were
with
a client?”

She put her finger up to her lips, and smiled devilishly. “We're really not supposed to be, but the Madame made an exception. Jimmy’s crew used to spend a lot of their money here. Of course, a few of the guys were mobsters. But you don't need to worry about any of that; they have their regulars. Girls they can trust. They're definitely not going to flirt with some girl whose last client ended up dead, know what I mean?”

Suddenly, her velvety voice sounded more like poison. She was making sure that I wasn't going to get with any of her clients. “I know exactly what you mean. But I've learned pretty quickly here that the men kind of choose for themselves. Oh, and I'm really sorry about Jimmy.”

I turned around, continued to powder my face, and put on my lipstick. Two could play her game, and I knew exactly how to play it.

Just minutes later, the doors opened, and the girls gracefully walked down the stairs into the club. It wasn't as full tonight; the girls quickly made their matches, and were sitting down in laps, and getting men drinks. I stood near the back wall, unsure of what to do with myself. I had such purpose last week; I picked my mate, and had made the match before I even left the dressing room. But, tonight, I couldn't seem to hone in on anyone. I decided maybe a little liquid courage would help me, and I walked over to the bar, tapping on a couple men’s shoulders as I made my way past. But no one offered me a drink, or even raised a glass to me. By the time I got to the bar, I was feeling completely defeated.

“A glass of wine, please,” I said to the bartender.

“You’re back.” I heard the whisper in my ear as he placed his hand on my lower back.

I turned around, and was met with Hudson James's beautiful dark eyes. “I am. Are you surprised?”

He smiled at me, still not releasing his hand from my body. “A little. I thought after your run-in with the police, you might take a few weeks off.”

“Then you don't know the rules as well as you think you do. There are no weeks off.” I paused, and took the drink from his hand. Smelled like scotch. I downed the whole glass in just one gulp. “Good choice of drink. I notice you don't have your group of miscreants with you tonight. Flying solo?”

He took the glass back from me, and put it on the bar behind me. “Easier to get your attention when I'm on my own. He took my hand with both of his, and kissed it lightly. “What's it going to take to get you to spend the night with me?”

I smiled. “I don't know that you have that kind of leverage.”

“You haven't even given me the chance to show you what I have in my bag of tricks. Request anything, and I'll make it happen.”

I chewed on my lower lip. I had the distinct feeling that I really could ask for anything, and Hudson could bring it to me in an instant. “I want to go to dinner.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

I nodded. “Dinner with no strings.”

“That’s ballsy. Most girls here would love some strings attached to me.”

“Well, lucky for you, I'm not like most girls.”

He smiled smugly. “No, you're not.” He got close enough to me that I could feel the moisture from his lips on my ear lobe. “Tell me something you've never told anyone else. Then, we go to dinner.”

He was playing a game. But I was better at it.

“I don't have secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets. It's what makes them valuable.”

“Fine. I have a tattoo on the inside of my upper thigh. It's a star.” I tried not to laugh, but the look on his face made it impossible. “I got it when I was sixteen. I thought I was a total badass until I realized that you have a lot of nerve endings at the top of your thigh, especially on the inside. I screamed the entire time it was being done. It's not even colored in, as a result, and I cried every time I did squats for a month. And no one else knows that about me. Your turn.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to tell you something in exchange.”

“And I don't remember accepting your invitation to dinner.”

He put his finger below my chin, and lifted my lips up to just below his, but they didn't touch. I couldn't deny the heat that was rising through my body like I was on fire. He was so devilish, yet bothersome at the same time.

“Fine. I don't have any tattoos. But I also probably didn't go to high school like you did. So, there was no peer pressure to get one. And private tutors frowned upon you leaving class to get something put on your body. Besides, nothing in my world is permanent, and I like it that way.”

“Nothing?”

He shook his head, his hand still under my chin. “Nothing.” We stayed like that for another moment before he released his hand, and tilted his head at me. “Dinner?”

I nodded, mostly because I was intrigued. Something about Hudson James left me reeling every time he walked away. Something about his cocky nature made my skin feel like lava, but as much as I wanted to fight with him and prove him wrong every second of the day, I also wanted him to kiss me, to press his lips against mine, and make me feel something so strong that it would shake me to my core. He was the type of man who could do that. “Dinner. One night.”

He pulled his card out of his breast pocket, and handed it to me. “Go discuss this with the Madame. I'll arrange everything.” He paused. “And don’t make any plans for the rest of the weekend.” He winked, and then abruptly turned and walked away. I stood, awestruck, watching his back. Hudson had not only given me his card, but he was taking me to dinner, and possibly away for the weekend, possibly forever. I could just feel the anxious sweat on my brow.

“What about one night?”

“You’ll want to be with me longer than that. I promise you that,” he called over his shoulder. Men and girls alike at the bar stared at me. I felt exposed, standing alone with his card in my shaky hands.

“But no strings attached,” I whispered, knowing that he couldn’t hear me anymore. And maybe I didn’t want him to.

I licked my lips, and walked dutifully over to the Madame’s office. I was interested to see what she would have to say about my interaction with Mr. James. There was another girl finishing her session, so I waited outside, and handed my card to the bouncer. He raised an eyebrow at me, clearly impressed at the whale I had bagged, and on only my second night. As the other girl walked out, I walked in, exchanging an awkward glance. It seemed weird to know that other girls were doing regular business, and I was about to go to dinner with Hudson. No sex, just a date.

I gave the card to the Madame. She scanned it, and sat back in her chair, turning it over in her hands.

“Sit, dear. We have things to discuss about this card.”

“What kind of things?”

“A certain person holds this card. Someone who spends more money on his girls and more time here than anyone I've ever met. Please tell me how did you get Hudson James to pay attention to you?”

I gulped. “I don't know. Ever since I’ve been here, he's just seemed interested.”

“You know, he's never given his card to a girl. Not one of mine at least.”

I was perplexed. “But you just said he spends so much money on his girls.”

She nodded. “That I did. He likes to bring in lavish gifts for ladies that he finds attractive. But he's never given his card to anyone. Many nights he comes in here with his buddies, and drinks up the tab that would cost you your rent. But he doesn't take anyone home; he's not that kind of client.”

But he was taking me home. Me. What did that say about our relationship? Or what he wanted out of it.

She started tapping on her computer, and a broad smile crossed her face. “Do you have a passport?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I went to the Bahamas a couple years ago with family. Why?”

The smile didn’t leave her lips. “Because he just booked you a flight for France. His own personal jet will be taking you there, but you'll still have to go through customs when you arrive.”

I was flabbergasted. “France?”

“Yes, a favorite place of his. He owns a little flat there. You're going to have quite the weekend, Ms. Hart. I'm very impressed.”

So was I.

“Can I leave the country? I mean, with the investigation?”

“Oh, dear, you were cleared the second you left the station. They have their murderer; they’ll have to catch us another way.”

“Oh.” What a complete relief.

“Yes, so it’s settled: France!”

I took a deep breath. “France.”

After the formalities were figured out, I was sent upstairs to grab a suitcase that would be packed for me, with clothes appropriate for a weekend getaway to France. I certainly didn't own anything that would be fitting for a trip like this. As I walked out with my Louis Vuitton luggage that didn't belong to me, and slid into a black town car, I looked like a supermodel. This wasn’t my life. It couldn’t be. I whipped out my cell phone to tell Alexis what was going on. I certainly couldn’t stay out all night again without telling her first. She might send out the National Guard this time.

“Oh my God, you cannot even believe what is happening to me right now!”

“What? Are you okay? I swear to God, I told you not to go back there.”

“No, it's nothing like that. One of the clients is taking me away for the weekend. To. France. France, Alexis! Shit like this just doesn't happen to girls like me.”

There was dead silence on the other end of the line. “Alexis? Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah I'm here. Oh my God, Calla. Are you sure? What if this guy takes you there in his private jet, and then chops you up into little pieces? He could be a freaking serial killer, Calla, you have to be careful.”

I laughed. “Then I will have died in some sort of paradise. But, really, I don't think I have anything to worry about, except if he doesn't like me. I'm not really sure what the rules are about taking someone out of the country, and then leaving them there.”

“I guess someone would come get you, probably not me though. However, a trip to France would be nice.” She laughed lightly before adding, “Girl, you just gotta be careful, okay? Promise me.”

“I promise.”