2. Nadia
2
NADIA
Numb. With everything going on, I feel like I’m caught in a whirlwind of unknown faces, accounts, bills, and employees. And, they all want me to make a decision immediately.
I don’t want to do any of it.
It had been almost seven years since the last time I even spoke to my father. He actually had the audacity to show up at my house on my twenty-fifth birthday and demand some of the money my mother had set into my trust.
Funny, he said he had “forgotten” when her funeral was, but he remembered exactly what day the funds were made available.
That was the only time I was grateful that my ex-husband was there. It was handy to be married to a lawyer.
“Ms. Sanders, the property in question is at seven-fifty Las Quatra Boulevard. I’ll meet you there at three.” Garland’s voice has a slight nasal whine as he talks.
For being my father’s attorney, he’s actually been fairly cordial.
The building is just a huge, dark, rectangle. There’s slits of windows on the second story, but none on the first.
It looks like a giant bomb shelter.
I know what he did in there, though. Why would anyone want to go into a sex club, much less own one?
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of having to go inside. I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid this place.
Maybe that’s why I hurried to marry Carl. I ran off with the first man who offered to change my name.
Stupidly. Never marry someone who’s self-centered and gone often.
I thought years of bad sex and emotional neglect was bad enough.
Getting a divorce from a man who knew the full legal system was a nightmare that I’m glad is over.
Garland’s squat frame and slicked comb-over, hustles across the hot parking lot when he sees me pull in.
When I climb out of my Mercedes, my Gucci heels stick to the heated asphalt.
“We don’t have to be long. There’s only a few small formalities that go along with the will. You’re the beneficiary of his bank accounts, and are also responsible for payroll.” He shuffles as he walks next to my brisk pace.
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this over with so I can sell this place and be done with it.” I don’t wait for him, but fling the heavy steel door open myself.
“Well, about that. There’s some details in his paperwork you’re going to need to be aware of.” He doesn’t look at me, but steps in front to lead me inside the building.
It smells faintly of bleach and lemons.
Not what I expected.
There are a handful of people milling around what looks to be a bar alcove on one side of the lobby.
They all very noticeably stop what they’re doing and watch me walking in.
I bet they’re waiting for their money.
Everyone always wants something from me.
“In here, please.” Garland stands before a small office with a glass door embellished with a silhouetted couple vertically doing the sixty-nine.
Lovely.
Everything about this place is cringey.
“Let’s hurry this along.” It makes my skin crawl thinking about how many bodily fluids have likely been spewed around my father’s space.
“Yes. Well, I needed you here today so that you can sign these paychecks and to meet the staff.” Garland drops his briefcase on the huge oak desk and snaps it open.
“But, first, the will.” With a flourish, he hands me the papers.
Reading in silence, I freeze when I hit the third page.
“Can you please tell me that this doesn’t say what I think it does?” My smooth, glossy nails tap against the rigid page as I hold it up.
“I’m afraid you read it correctly. You cannot sell this establishment for ten years.” He pushes his glasses up his wide nose and blinks rapidly.
“And, this part? I can’t even give it away?” Why is my voice starting to sound more like a screeching hawk?
This can’t be real.
He clears his throat and tugs on the sleeve of his jacket. It’s like he doesn’t want to answer me.
“That’s correct. His stipulation was in the hopes that you would keep this business running.” His eyes look gigantic through his lens as he watches me.
“No. Not going to happen. I’m not running this place. ” My stomach twists and I can feel the blood drain out of my face.
Little stars pop within my vision.
“I need a moment.” Dropping my forehead to my arm, I wave him out with a limp wrist.
This is too much.
I pull out my phone and find the contact named “BFF” near the top.
“Well. Is it sold?” Rochelle’s croaky voice soothes the turmoil in my head.
“It’s worse than I thought. Let me read you my favorite part.” I fast forward through all of the legalese in the beginning and fill her in on my crisis.
“Can’t you speak to Carl?” She finally says after a long pause.
“Why in the hell would I call my ex-husband?” Although, there are worse ideas.
“Because he’s a lawyer. He can help you get this shit sold and get the money.” Her exasperated tone shifts. “Girl, you have a fashion show coming up with your name as the header! Just think of how far that extra cash will skyrocket your brand!”
I roll the corner of the will between my fingers. My business is doing well on its own, but having the extra capital will really give it a significant bump.
“You heard what’s in this thing. My father screwed me over. I can’t sell this damn place. Not for another ten years.”
She pauses. I can hear her take a deep breath before she talks again. “Maybe you should see about hiring a manager to run the place? It might bring in some extra cash.”
I love how her brain works, always looking for another angle.
But, not this time.
“I don’t want anything to do with this nasty thing. I’m not doing it.” Anger surges through me.
My own father did this. Manipulated me into his debauchery.
I’d rather this vile business rots to the ground before I run it.
“Boy, he really messed this up, huh?” She breaks into a wild laugh that degrades into heavy coughing. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. In the meantime, Yolanda and Betty are doing their little primadona twirls, so I have to run. Love ya, chicka.”
I know what I have to do.
Flinging open the door, I find Garland clear across the foyer. He’s sitting at one of the high booths with two incredibly scantily clad women.
They need some damn clothes on.
“Bring me the checkbook. I’ll give everyone their severance pay starting immediately.” Waving my hand, I don’t see if he follows before stomping back into the office.
Garland slinks in a moment later. “Ms. Sanders. I don’t think that you?—”
I hold up my shaking hand.
It’s taking everything I have not to break down screaming. “Please. This is what I’m going to do. I don’t see any other option that doesn’t go against every fiber of my being.”
His mouth thins, but he nods and pulls the ledger from the drawer of the desk.
After a very tense and stressful two hours, all of the employees have either received their money, or it’s been stuffed in an envelope for mailing.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to do before we go?” His hand lands on the last of the lightswitches making darkness cover the windowless room.
“Yes. Put up a closed sign. Good day.” Pushing back out into the hot Vegas evening, it scalds my lungs, but purifies me from cloying ick that clinged to me while I was inside.
Even if deep down I know maybe I’m jealous people can be this sexually free without feeling like it’s wrong.
That isn’t me and never will be.