South Row (15 page)

“Settle down, everyone,” he directs. The lion has spoken, so everyone quiets down.

Henry Grisham and Michael Lake, the other partners, comes to stand on the next side of me and slaps me on the back. This…is weird.

“As you all know, Golden Boy here,” Liam begins and a fresh wave of cheers ring out. “Settle down, settle down,” he says again. “Golden Boy here has been a great addition to Stone, Grisham and Lake. Since adding him to the team, he has boosted our win percentage and has raked in more profit than we ever thought possible. He is the reason everyone wants to be represented by Stone, Grisham and Lake. Now, don’t get me wrong. Each lawyer in here has played their part and I lift my hat to all of you for always doing your job; but, my future son-in-law here has done what most of us never did in our first two years as lawyers: boast a hundred percent win rate.”

Cheers and applause sound out again, but I am stunned.

“Maybe I’m doing this because he’ll soon be family. But who gives a fuck?”

“Daddy!” Kaylee admonishes.

“Sorry, sweet pea, but really, this is me and my partners’ company, and we’ve already discussed this.”
Oh no.
“So, please put your hands together for your new partner, my son-in-law, and your Golden Boy, Collin Danes!”
Fuck.

I’m getting tired of hearing cheers and applause. Everyone comes over and congratulates me, but I am frozen in shock. Can things get any worse? I can’t fucking break up with Kaylee now. Shit…South.

The night goes by with me in a daze. Wyatt and Johann try to break me out of my funk, but nothing works. It’s been three hours of partying, but it’s like I’m having an outer body experience where I am just watching the festivities. Luke and Connor don’t speak to me, aside from congratulating me. I dance with Kaylee and she whispers sexy promises in my ear, but I’m not in it. Jeez, this is one big clusterfuck.

I check my watch and see that it’s almost midnight. South will have been ready and waiting for me.

Signaling to Luke, I take him outside the conference room to ask him a huge favor.

“Dude, you fucked up,” he says as the door closes behind us.

“Me? I didn’t give myself a promotion, Somerville” I argue.

“Yeah, but if you had broken up with Kaylee before…heck, before you guys reached the one month mark, you wouldn’t be on your way to hurting the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” he explains angrily.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I say vehemently. “It’s…just going to take some time to break up with Kaylee now is all.”

“For your sake, I hope everything works out.”

“Me, too, that’s why I want you to do something for me.” He raises his eyebrows in expectancy. “Pick up South for me.” He lets out an annoyed breath. “Please, dude. I promised her that I’d pick her up, but as you can see, I can’t leave. Tell her I’ll talk to her later tonight, that I still want to see her.”

“I swear to God, if you fuck this up and inadvertently fuck up my relationship with Lydia, I will back out of being your Maid of Honor, Colline,” he threatens.

“I swear, I won’t fuck it up,” I promise.

“And if a marriage between you and Kaylee ever happens, count me out of it. I won’t have anything to do with it,” he states firmly. “Just giving you fair warning.”

He then strides off to the elevators and leaves me to wallow in my guilt.

A throat clears, scaring the bejesus out of me.

“Yeah, what he said,” I hear Connor’s voice in the darkness say. He emerges from a dark corner with a hard look on his face and stands in front of me. “Last time I didn’t kick your ass, big bro. This time, I make no threats, just promises.” He, too, strides off and leaves.

I’m losing my friends and brother. I can’t let this happen. I can’t mess things up with South. Schooling my features, I walk back into the conference room where the party continues. Wyatt and Johann keep me company while Kaylee gabs with her vapid friends, one of them staring at Johann like he’s her next meal.

I turn away from the mass of people and update my brothers on everything that’s been going on, as well as my decision to end things with Kaylee. Johann agrees, but Wyatt is skeptical. I would expect him to be as he’s all for marriage and happy home. When I tell him how unhappy I’ve been and how South makes me feel, his doubts turn into full-fledged support. That is also when he tells me that he never saw me marrying someone like Kaylee in the first place. They both vow to help me do whatever it takes to see my plans through with little to no blowback. That’s highly unlikely, but hey, we can all hope.

At 12:34, I get a text from Luke.

Dude, I didn’t see her at the Totem. Swung by her place and she’s not there either. Tried calling her and she’s not picking up. Lydia hasn’t seen or heard from her, neither has Scott. I don’t have a good feeling about this.

Neither the fuck do I! Dread burns my chest like acid, and I stagger back.

“Whoa there, Colline. Too much to drink, pumpkin?” Wyatt chirps.

I think I’m going to be sick. This can’t be happening. South would never block out her friends. Never. Something must be wrong. The possibilities do nothing to calm the sense of foreboding looming over me.

South is missing. And it’s all my fault.

Tonight was good. Better than good. It was awesome! I danced my ass off, even more than I did the night before. I went all seductive rocker-chick on them tonight and danced to a megamix of
Welcome to the Jungle
by Guns ’n’ Roses and
Take Her
by Dev that I executed mostly from the pole. I even flashed my boobies. It was unintentional, but, fuck if it didn’t feel right.

I was high on love and anticipation. I couldn’t wait to see Collin. I was going to jump him in his very flashy silver GS 450h. Just thinking about it, has me wetting my panties.

As I stand at the back parking lot waiting for Collin, I try to shake off the nerves settling in the pit of my stomach. This is it. I’m going to have sex. Again. For the second time in my entire life. With the same person I did it with the first time. Jubilation has me grinning like a possum eating sweet potato pie. I am finally getting my man. The one I’ve waited for most of my life. I just hope I look good enough.

I’m standing with my bag over my shoulder in a coral skater skirt that stops mid-thigh, white high neck crop top that shows off my midriff, with white, chunky-heeled, spike-studded, laced up ankle boots. My hair is in a messy bun on top of my head and, as usual, no makeup aside from lip gloss. I feel pretty and sexy. I just hope Collin thinks the same thing.

As I run through various methods of seduction in my mind, my phone chimes in a message. Fishing my cell phone out of my oversized bag, I note that I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes. A pang of worry hits me. What if he wasn’t able to get out of the house? What if he didn’t break up with his fiancée? What if he’s changed his mind?

With shaking fingers, I swipe my cell’s screen to open the text. It is a picture. It loads and as it becomes clearer, my heart shatters into million little pieces and gets scattered over the San Francisco Bay.

It is a picture of Collin in the arms of his platinum blonde. I would know her anywhere. He is staring at her while she looks at him lovingly. Another chime comes in and it’s another picture. This time, I feel hot tears scalding down my face when I see Collin kissing his fiancée with what seems to be a whole lotta passion. Another picture comes in with the man from the night before patting Collin on the back and smiling fondly at him, as his daughter flanks the other side of Collin. They look like the perfect family.

Another chime signals another message and, like a glutton for punishment, I open it.

We are happy.

I don’t even have to guess who sent this. That means she knew about Collin and me. I feel like such a fucking fool. In what universe are Collin and I ever meant to be together? He only wanted a memory lane fuck.

Angry, pitiful tears flow down my cheeks. How could I have been so blind and stupid? Of course he’s happy with her. That’s why he didn’t want to be with me in the beginning. He probably saw me as some piece of stripper ass to conquer just before he gets hitched and lives happily ever after with his blonde bitch.

Of course he’ll marry a blonde! He’d been dating that blonde bimbo Misty when he took my virginity. He loves blondes. Redheads were just a distraction for him. Wrecked for me? Oh please! He’s a lawyer, so of course he lies!

And, of course, I can’t stop saying of course! This only happens, of course, when I’m angry and having a silent soliloquy!

I can’t believe I believed him. I’m so stupid.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I berate myself, dashing the tears from my face. “Stop crying, right now.”

I take a deep breath and hold it for ten seconds then let it out. As I exhale, a sob rips from my throat. That technique usually works to calm me down, but I’ve never had to try it against immense heartbreak. Burying my face in my hands, I release all my sorrow. After a few minutes, I have composed myself enough to dry my eyes and calm my stuttering breathing.

I need a hot shower, wine and my friends.

I start walking to head around the front of the club and get a taxi, when a dark limo pulls up in front of me. The window rolls down and Fletcher pokes his head out.

“Hey, Sunshine, need a ride?” he asks.

“I’m fine Mr. Colfax,” I decline.

“Come on, didn’t I tell you to call me, Fletcher?” He flashes me a dimpled smile. For an almost old guy, he’s very handsome.

“Fletcher.” I muster up a tiny smile for him.

“You look like you need a ride…” he pauses, looking me over. “And a hug.”

I sigh. He’s right.

“Look, everything’s going to be okay,” he says. “Whatever it is, it’s not the end of the world.”

God, he’s such a sweet man. Why can’t I be hung up on him?

Hmm, why can’t I?

“I’ll take that ride, Mr.–” He gives me a hard stare and I hold my hands up in mock surrender as I correct myself, “Fletcher.” He smiles and so do I.

“Good, let me get the door for you.” He hops out and holds the door as I get in. He gets in after me.

The seats are soft and comfortable. Sitting in them, I feel the weight of my exhaustion hit me like a bag of sand. The driver sets off and my eyes start to droop immediately.

“Would you like some champagne?” Fletcher asks, stretching for a chilled bottle of Cristal. I have to remember that this guy is loaded like a baked potato.

He pours me a glass before I even accept and hands it to me. I don’t know much about champagne, but this tastes crisp and fruity. It’s doing the job to ease the tension in my shattered body.

Two glasses later, and I am totally loose and relaxed.

“So, tell me about yourself, Sunshine,” Fletcher requests.

“Well, Fletcher, I just got my heart broken,” I answer. Loose-lipped South Row is in the building! “Get this, he’s engaged and we never dated! Funny right? Yeah. Not just that. I hadn’t seen him in ten years
and
he popped my cherry the last time we saw each other. Yeah, good times.” I slump back in the seat with a smile on my face betraying the actual turmoil of my soul. This is some good Cristal.

“Wow,” Fletcher blows out.

“Yup, pathetic, right?”

“
He’s
pathetic alright.” I tilt my head to look at him. “I mean, look at you, Sunshine. Who wouldn’t want to be with you? I know I would.”

Okay, venturing into the awkward territory.

“Um, I don’t date patrons, Fletcher,” I tell him nervously.

He shoots me a smoldering stare and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Why can’t I get home yet?

“You’ll make an exception for me, darlin’,” he states.

Nervous laughter bubbles up as alarm bells start going off.

“No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Colfax.” Yes, shifting the dynamics is good.

Referring to him by his first name is too friendly. He needs to remember what I am to him. We’re not friends, and we won’t be lovers. I’m the stripper and he’s the horny old man who throws bandz to make me dance.

“It’s Fletcher!” he booms.
O…kay.

I need to get outta this car.

“Okay,
Fletcher
. Well, you can just let me out right here, I can walk from here. My apartment’s not too far away,” I lie.

We actually went in the complete opposite direction of my apartment, but he doesn’t need to know that, especially with him acting all kinds of bi-polar cray on me.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t lie, Sunshine. Or should I call you Southerlynn Tate?” he admonishes lightly. The darkness in his eyes tell a different tale altogether.

My heart is beating erratically inside my chest; my body is shaking with nerves and an eerie sense of doom. It seems as if I’m reading everybody wrongly lately. Here was I thinking that Fletcher Colfax is this sweet, mild-mannered strip club patron. Boy was I wrong. He knows my name and possibly where I fucking live. This is not good.

“Now, Miss Tate, are you going to play nice?” he wheedles.

“Only if you let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear,” I answer, pleading.

He laughs a sinister laugh and crowds me in the corner of the limo. “Oh, no, my dear. I can’t let you go. Not now when I’ve finally got you. Do you know how many of my fantasies star you? The most recent one involves you cowering in fear, just like you are now. Do you know how much this turns me on, to see the fear in your eyes?”

This guy is sick!

“We’re going to have so much fun, my sweet.” He runs a gangly finger down the side of my face and I jerk my head away angrily.

“Don’t touch me, you sick fuck!” I spit.

All I see is a predatorial smile before he backhands me. For a moment, dots of blackness cloud my vision. The intensity of the slap makes me bite down on the inside of my cheek. The metallic taste of blood meets my tongue. I haven’t been hit since my father. The memories it evokes is enough to have me cowering in fear, afraid to be struck again. My father had been a terrible man and I had enough welts, black eyes and broken bones to last me a lifetime. When I got to Nebraska and stepped foot on my Aunt’s doorstep, I burst into tears because, finally, I was free of him. Being at the cruel mercy of Fletcher right now is bringing me right back to that place.

Opening my eyes, my vision clears to see a very angry and, if I’m interpreting that look correctly, a very turned on Fletcher Colfax towering over me.

“Oh, Sunshine, I didn’t want to start hitting you so soon. Now there’s blood seeping from your lip,” he says huskily. He reaches out and touches my lip and I flinch at the sting – I guess my lip is cut – and his gross proximity.

“Please, let me go,” I beg. My voice is hard, pissed off.

He chuckles and shakes his head slowly. “You’ll have to beg me better than that, Sunshine.”

“Fuck you,” I snarl.

He backhands me again and this time, my world goes dizzy and, for a moment, I see my father. The pain grips my head and I want to hold it, fold myself into a ball like I used to do against the onslaught of my father’s fury, and cry, but I won’t give Fletcher the satisfaction.

I reach out and scratch his face, but he wards me off and grips my neck in his hands. Squeezing, my vision starts to swirl. I can hardly breathe.

“The kitten has some fight in her,” Fletcher observes. “Well, I’m about to tame the wild cat,” he declares.

With one hand, he keeps a strong, constricting grip on my throat and with the other, he reaches under my skirt. I want to fight him, but I know the more I fight, the weaker I’ll become and the quicker my air supply will be cut off. I decide to save my strength for the slightest opportunity to be free of his clutches.

Fletcher grips my flimsy lace panties in his hands. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have worn them. I just thought that I’d wear something that Collin could easily get into. From now on, all I’ll ever wear is jeans pants and granny panties. If I ever get out of this alive, that’ll be my mantra: jeans pants and granny panties.

Fletcher tugs hard on my flimsy underwear and rips the fabric to shreds, pinching my skin. I don’t cry out. I don’t give him any satisfaction. He brushes his calloused knuckles against my sex and I cringe. He jerks my head back and squeezes tighter in response to my repugnance.

“You will take my touch!” he screams at me.

“Fuck…you,” I wheeze.

Fletcher’s lips curve into a psychotic smile. “That’s what I’m gonna do, Sunshine.”

He moves his hand from my core and starts fumbling with his belt buckle. Panic starts to set in as I envision what he’s about to do.

No.

This can’t happen.

His hand loosens around my neck a fraction as he tries to focus on freeing his cock. I use this opportunity to knee him in his groin, where I make contact with a very turgid part of his anatomy. That should be painful.

He releases me and grabs hold of his aching family jewel, falling to the floor of the limo. I gasp for air, coughing up a lung as I try to breathe. Quickly, I stare out the window to ensure it’s safe to leap from the moving car and make a roll for it. I mutter “fuck it” and reach for the handle.

“You fucking bitch!” Fletcher bellows, reaching for me.

I scream and knock him back and use the thick heel of my shoe to step into his man-business. The man howls in pain, clutching his crotch. His driver must have finally registered the commotion because he slows the limo down and rolls down the privacy screen. He has his gun drawn and with quick movements and thought, I grab the chilled bottle of Cristal and slam it into his face. His hand loosens on the gun and I dive for it while he tries to control the limo now swerving uncontrollably.

With a wild jerk, the car comes to a crashing halt that jolts me on top of a painfully writhing Fletcher. I hear the airbag deploy in the front and I try to scramble away from Fletcher who is trying to grab at me. One last solid kick in the nuts has the man passed out. The driver starts groaning and, with the gun held firmly in my palm, I haul ass out of the limo.

I run and run and run. I don’t know where I’m running to but I know who I’m running from. All I see are dark buildings. No police stations, no motels, no hotels, no one on the road to ask for help. My breath is wheezing out of me and my feet ache from running so much, but I refuse to stop now. I wish I could call Collin, or Lydia and Scott, or Connor, even Luke, but I can’t. I left my cell phone in Fletcher’s limo. God, I suck! Why am I even thinking about Collin?