8. Dan
CHAPTER EIGHT
DAN
The Scarlet Mirage—Felix’s speakeasy, hidden beneath the streets of Manhattan. Every time I enter this place, it’s like being transported back to the 1920s.
Art Deco paintings line the mahogany walls. The dim chandelier casts a faint glow on the venue, leaving the perimeter in shadows. A wooden bar stretches across one side of the speakeasy with all kinds of alcohol shelved on the wall behind. Along the back wall of the venue is a row of booths, each one concealed with velvet curtains, allowing God knows what to happen inside.
Illegal gambling.
Sex.
None of it would surprise me.
That’s the appeal of this place: it’s not legal at all. The Scarlet Mirage brings people back to the seduction of the Prohibition era. Entry is by invitation only, and it’s a risk for any patron to walk through the doors. Dad would lose his shit if he found out about this place.
Tonight, it’s busy down here, as Saturdays always are. The air is heavy with a mixture of cigar smoke and liquor. Everyone has their eyes set on the stage where a strip tease feather dance is unfolding. The audience applauds as the dancer unclips her bra, hiding her breasts behind the feathers.
While I can admit she’s putting on a good show, I seem to be the only audience member disinterested in seeing what’s hidden behind the feathers. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Ally and she’s all I can think about. We’ve formed a habit of speaking on the phone every night, but it’s not the same as being with her in person. Last night was the first time she didn’t answer my call. I assume it’s because I called late, after my poker game, and she’d gone to sleep early due to a long week at work.
While the dancer shimmies out of her thong, I pull out the deck of cards Ally bought me for my seventeenth birthday—the cards I used to carry with me everywhere until she left for Paris. I’ve stored them in my bedside drawer for the last year, ignoring the deck until earlier this evening because the memory of these cards was too painful. As I sit in this armchair, bored by the entertainment, my fingers fall into a familiar pattern, shuffling the cards for relaxation like I used to.
The deck is exquisite, each card black and embossed with the neon artwork of skulls. My shuffling stops when I see the Queen of Hearts, and a tightness forms in my chest. I trace my thumb over the card I once gave to Ally, reading her handwriting from when she returned it to me before Paris. You’ll always be my person .
Those words… My jaw clenches, angered over how she willingly threw us away. I’m still caught up on how she left for Paris without saying goodbye and how we haven’t discussed it yet. How badly she fucked me up. If she thinks I’ ll let her get away with her little Paris stunt and life will carry on as if we never happened, she’s wrong.
Ally is mine. She’s always been mine and she always will be.
What we had was the most meaningful connection I’ve ever experienced. Deeper than just lust. We were everything to each other on an emotional level. We were each other’s safe place.
Feelings like that don’t just disappear, I don’t care what she claims.
Our physical need for each other… Fuck. I never even got to indulge in her body. The day will come when this good girl persona snaps and I have Ally bouncing up and down on my cock.
The audience cheers, drawing my attention away from the Queen of Hearts. I glance back at the stage, seeing the feathers have lowered and the dancer’s breasts are on full display. Again, I can’t seem to make myself care. Her tits are good and she’s pretty. Almost as pretty as the redhead sitting at the bar who’s been sending me smiles all through this act. I don’t care much about her tonight either.
The dancer steps into her final pose and the audience applauds. “You up for another game of blackjack?” Felix asks, occupying the armchair beside me.
I’m already up twenty K tonight from our previous game. It’s only ten p.m. and I have a lot more stamina.
“Or are you keen to get your dick wet?” He nods at the redhead by the bar. “From the way she’s been watching you, I’d say she’s down for more than a friendly chat.”
I could fuck her. I should at least try to do the right thing by seeing other women in an attempt to get over Ally. That was my tactic when she first ditched me for Paris. I was so angry at her that I spent the first few months crashing at Felix’s apartment where there were constant parties and I was rarely sober, fucking countless women to get Ally out of my system. It didn’t do shit for breaking my obsession with her. Sleeping with this redhead tonight won’t do shit either.
Besides, I don’t want to get over Ally. She’s had me in a chokehold since the day I first met her five years ago. I let her run from me once. I won’t let it happen twice.
If I don’t play this right, she’ll be frightened off again. I haven’t yet figured out how, but I’m going to own Ally in every way. I’ll make her drop this good girl act and return to the desperate little slut who fucked that dildo in front of me. She’ll embrace this raw side of her instead of being filled with shame. I want her to admit with pride how fucked up she is for wanting me, then ride my cock and own every part of the decision. I’m going to make her do the most messed up shit that pushes every boundary she has because I know that’s what turns her on the most.
She’s my slut. My Queen of Hearts. I’ll make her see how perfect we are together. Ally Hastings will be so addicted to me that she begs for my dick every day and can’t fathom the thought of running away from me ever again.
“The redhead isn’t my type.” I return the deck of cards to the inside of my suit jacket, deciding it’s time to duck away for my nightly phone call with Ally.
Felix laughs. “Everyone is your type.”
At least I’ve got him fooled.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call just as I reach for it. I pause before answering, seeing Amabella’s name on the screen. There’s a mood-killer, reminding me of what a shitty person I am for all the things I want to do to her daughter, when Amabella has been nothing but good to me.
Aside from that, the phone call is odd. We speak regularly enough on the phone that a call from her shouldn’t be alarming. But she never calls me at ten p.m.
I raise the phone to my ear. “Amabella, everything all right?”
My suspicion is confirmed when I hear the concern in her voice. “Dan, Ally hasn’t come out of her bedroom all day. She won’t tell me what’s upset her. She’s not speaking to me at all. I asked if she’d speak to you but she said she wants to be alone. I don’t think she’s had a panic attack. She doesn’t normally hide those issues from me. But I’m very worried. I’m hoping you can help. Do you know what’s upset her?”
I’m already grabbing my car keys, standing from the armchair. “No clue. I’m on my way.” In the past, I’ve been the only one who can ease Ally’s panic attacks. Amabella doesn’t think there’s been a panic attack this time, but whatever the issue is, I need to be there for Ally.
“You’re coming here right now? Honey, I don’t want you driving at nighttime.”
“I’ll be fine on the road. See you soon.” I hang up the call before Amabella can try to talk me out of driving.
“Everything okay?” Felix asks.
“No. That was Amabella. There’s some issue with Ally. I need to go to her.” I work hard to keep my voice casual, not letting him sense the protective side in me that’s just flared over Ally.
“Shit. A panic attack?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I shrug, playing down the situation. “She won’t speak to anyone. I’ll see if she talks to me.”
“You want me to drive?” There it is, the protective instinct in Felix too. Except for him, it’s brotherly concern, which is a large part of why I don’t want Felix discovering my feelings for Ally. We’re close as brothers. His morals are in the dirt, yet I don’t think even he would accept this thing between me and Ally.
“I’ll handle Ally. Stay here and enjoy the night.”
“If you’re sure. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.” I head for the exit, concerned for Ally but taking any opportunity I can to get in close with my girl again.