Chapter 22
22
R AIN
The room is quiet.
Politely, we pass the steamed greens and the potatoes around the table as if we’re strangers in a restaurant.
I shove down food that tastes like nothing, having a hard time swallowing.
It’s been like that for the past two days.
The issue of James Sexton is moot.
In private, Daria exults. My mom has regained her serenity, and my dad is still clueless. Nat is on a business trip, out of the loop entirely.
And… I’m dying.
The news that I’m moving to New York was received with mixed reactions, none of them notable.
All in all, it looks like my family embraces the idea, even sighing with relief.
The evening news comes on TV, a welcomed distraction from the grim atmosphere. It’s only a brief respite before the words roll in my ears.
“The Sexton International Casino and Entertainment Resort is set to be inaugurated one year from today. According to local banking sources, the projected annual revenue will surpass three hundred million dollars. Two days after the local City Council had approved a zone change, James Sexton sat with us for a brief interview.”
My eyes fly to the screen, the sight of him smashing me straight into my heart. Daria catches my gaze and turns up the volume, rejoicing over my misery.
My mom glances over her shoulder before focusing on her food, the issue no longer on her radar.
My dad’s eyes dart in that direction before he shifts his attention back to his food.
I no longer watch it when Daria turns the volume down.
“It’s going to be a disaster,” my dad mutters.
“What’s that, Dad?” Daria asks, eager to start a conversation.
“This stupid project. It’s going to make the owners super-rich, especially this James Sexton guy. He owns the majority, from what I understand. And it will mean nothing good for the community. It will generate low-paying jobs, increase the number of temporary workers, draw a lot of traffic, and possibly cause a crime wave. Stupid, stupid business, but nobody wanted to listen to me. They all bought into this crook’s stories. He even tried to convince me...” he mumbles, looking so content for not falling for James’ tricks as he cuts his steak.
What??
I furtively glance around. The only other person interested in my dad’s story is Daria, but even she cannot grasp the full meaning of it.
James asked my father to vote for that proposal?
“Are you done, sweetie?” my mom asks.
Startled, I jerk in my chair.
“Yes.”
“You haven’t even touched it,” she says.
“I’m good. I’ll eat later,” I murmur, pushing my chair back and rising in a daze.
I rush to my room, lock myself in, and for the next hour, I search for James’ name online and read about him, his businesses, and Sexton International, as well as his other projects, the lawsuits, and his estimated wealth.
I knew some of this stuff from my sister but never paid much attention to it.
James inherited his dad’s empire. And he’d been involved in running it with his father since he was eighteen.
He became the sole owner of Red’s at that time.
I sift through mountains of information, looking for the valuable bits, trying to put the pieces together.
I call Eve.
“Hey. You okay?”
“No, not really. I need to ask you something...” I say. “The women… The Night of the Kings women… Do you know anyone other than Denise Anderson who’s been involved with them?”
“Why are you interested?”
“I don’t know right now. That’s why I need more information.”
“The ones I know... Let me see. There was an Isabelle Carson, Anika Joffre, Tammy Louis...”
I write the names down.
“Okay. Anyone else?”
“Theo Lang… I don’t know anyone else, but there were more.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I research their names and pull up more information. As these pieces add up, a cold shiver races down my back.
I clear the search history on my laptop, turn off the computer, grab my car keys, and swing the door open.
Daria almost falls inside.
“Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell are you doing at my door?”
I push her to the side and shoot her a glare.
“I told Dad about you and Sexton,” she slips to me as I rush by her.
“Go fuck yourself, Daria.”
I veer toward the entrance when my dad thunders from the kitchen.
“Rain, I need to speak to you!”
“Not now, Dad.”
Without another word, I push out the door.
* * *
RAIN
There’s no way I can get in Red’s without a trick of sorts.
I’m sure the staff will throw me out without a smidgen of regret the second I step in.
As I roll the car onto the street leading to the club, limousines pull up in front of the building.
It looks like a big party. People and cars are coming and going, and a cop directs traffic.
I find a parking spot on a secondary street and walk to the club. Good thing I wear a black hooded T-shirt and dark jeans, so I can hide my face and go unnoticed.
The place is dimly lit.
All I need is to sneak inside and slide past the bouncers without being spotted by the snake in the red dress, in case she's working tonight.
Standing at the top of the stairs, I scan the crowd, looking for familiar faces and trying to attach myself to someone to get in.
A group of tipsy men makes it to the door.
I hide my hair inside my hood and slip between the two of them, hooking my arms around their elbows and acting as if I had a drink too many.
We split as soon as we get inside.
I slide to the wall, turn right, and keep walking until I reach the farthest booth.
As I get closer, the faces around the table come into focus.
I pull my hood off, my blonde hair spilling over my shoulders just as James raises his eyes.
His smile dies out, his eyes turning into black ice. Lex’s expression freezes, and Ed’s usually warm eyes turn to ashes.
Four women sit with them, all in their twenties. Pretty faces, skintight dresses. Two blondes, one brunette, and one redhead.
Their laughter still rings in the air as their male companions turn to stone.
“What the hell are you doing here?” James growls under his breath, motioning to a couple of bouncers.
The women go quiet, their eyes darting back and forth.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Get the hell out of my club,” he barks, rising to his feet and blocking the view of the people at the table.
His hand curls around my neck.
I look up at him, his gaze flying over me. The bouncers are near us.
“It’s about my dad,” I say, and he raises his hand.
His men halt and pull away.
He drags me to a side exit and takes me to the back rooms, where he unlocks a door and shoves me into his office.
He lets go of me.
“I’m listening... Make it short. I don’t have time for you.”
“I heard the news on TV this evening. My dad said you had contacted him before the City Council’s session, asking for his vote.”
He shrugs.
“So? He voted against it, and as it turned out, I didn’t need his vote.”
“What did you say to him, James?”
He narrows his eyes at me, his gaze scorching me.
“What do you want from me, Rain?”
“It was more than asking him, wasn’t it?”
His eyes bore into mine defiantly.
He says nothing.
“Is this what I was for you? Some sort of leverage for your business?” I murmur.
The room feels dark and cold, like his eyes.
I keep talking.
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Collecting information on people and using it at your convenience when you needed a favor, a little nudge here and there, a proposal to get passed, financing to get approved, or a permit to be released? Is that what Red’s is?” I ask, pointing to the mirror wall and the crowd inside.
A mask of stone sets on his face.
“Did you use me?” I ask softly, a cascade of tears breaking through my voice. “All those women you have taken at the Dark House were not only beautiful. Their fathers are or were influential people. Many of these women left town or broke up with their men after you took them there,” I say.
He says nothing for a few moments as if pondering.
“Talk to me,” I shout.
His jaw clenches, his eyes throwing flames.
“You want the truth, Rain?”
“Yes. I want the fucking truth.”
He walks around the desk, unlocks a drawer, fumbles through a few boxes, and pulls out a memory stick.
He plops it into my hand.
“Here. This is the fucking truth.”
“What’s this?”
“Your dad, your sister, your brother-in-law. Take it home, watch it, and do whatever the hell you want with it if you’re so invested in discovering the truth.”
My mouth drops open.
“I needed your dad’s vote. It was a desperate situation, and he was my last chance. He didn’t change his position, and you know why? He acted like someone who had nothing to lose. The only time men do that is when they’d rather see everything crumble than fix their mess. This way, they can free themselves from a life they no longer care for. He didn’t give a damn that your mom would find out. When he said no to me, I was convinced I'd lose the whole damn thing. He said he’d vote against me and turn more people against me, so I’d never get enough votes. He wasn’t an option for me from the get-go. I didn’t want to approach him. And you know why? Because I didn’t want to destroy your family. And then I realized… I couldn’t ruin something that was already in shambles. I could merely shine a light on it. All the information that I have on everybody else... I didn’t use it once. I didn’t have to. People liked to do me a favor because they figured I might have something on them, but using it has always been the last resort. I wined and dined everyone I needed to get things done and sold the shit out of every business idea. And yes, I do have information on pretty much everyone in town. Call it market research for all I care. The women we fucked at the Dark House came to us. We coaxed no one. We merely picked the ones that we liked. It was clean, consenting sex. We had enough shit on their dads. We didn’t need their tribulations. They left and changed their lives because they had a fucking epiphany, which I hope you’ll have one day too.”
I look at him, thunderstruck.
“You were not part of anything, Rain. You were nothing more than a girl I had the misfortune to run into in front of my club. A girl I thought was different.” He locks the drawer. “My dad was fucking right. When my mother left us, he didn’t need a slideshow to understand what the rest of his life would look like or how the rest of the women were. He got it, and he taught me well, but I fucking forgot that when I met you.”
He straightens and points to the door.
“Now get the hell out. Go, enjoy your pauper, idyllic life in Manhattan’s gutter, fucking stupid kid.”
“James?”
“Get the fuck out!” he thunders, and I slip out the door, run through the club, and rush outside, dragging with me a long sobbing breath.
End of Book One
* * *