Chapter 8
CHERYL
Six hours later, Nick and I enter Cipriani’s at the Wynn.
It’s a favorite spot of ours, and although we don’t come as often as I would like, the ma?tre d' greets us warmly. That coupled with the popularity of Club Wicked always assures us a premiere table and excellent service. Normally, it’s a night out of relaxation and reconnecting after a busy week—except for tonight.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake my earlier confrontation with Graham Pierce. I shiver at the mere thought of his threats.
“Are you cold?” Nick asks, invading my thoughts.
“No, just a chill.”
He stares at me for a second, then goes back to examining the menu. Unnecessary since we both usually get the same thing every time we come here. He starts with a dry martini; I have a glass of chardonnay, then he orders the ribeye steak, and I get the sea bass.
Nick closes his menu. “Are we getting our usual?”
“Yes, fine.” Even I could hear the clipped tone of my voice, so I add, “Sounds good.”
“Good evening.” The waiter comes over to the table. “Can I get your usual drinks?”
“That’s fine,” Nick says.
“Ahh, no, I think I’ll have a cosmopolitan tonight.”
“Very good.” The waiter nods and leaves to retrieve our order.
“Tough day?” Nick asks.
Normally, I have one glass of chardonnay, but tonight I don’t think there’s enough liquor in Vegas to wash away the fear of Graham’s threats.
“Busy.”
Nick continues to stare at me. “You’re still pissed about this morning.”
“No, no. I’m fine.” Our fight this morning was the last thing on my mind. After the unnerving scene with Graham, I almost forgot what we even fought about.
“We’ve just both been under a lot of pressure lately,” Nick continues. “After the holidays everything will go back to normal.”
“Sure, right.” I swallow hard. Nick is way too perceptive, and if I don’t get it together, he’s going to become suspicious. I don’t think I could lie if he questioned me outright, and I wouldn’t want to imagine the course of action he’d take if he knew how Graham threatened me.
Thankfully, the waiter appears with our drinks and takes our food order.
When the waiter leaves, Nick raises his glass. “Here’s to the coming of a new year.”
We clink glasses, and I take a big gulp of the icy drink, then another.
“So, how was your day?” I force a smile and hope I’m selling it. I also hope to get some information about his meeting with Graham.
“Usual shit. Everything’s crazy with the holiday parties all next week.”
“Right.” I gulp down the last of my cosmo, catch the waiter’s eye and motion for another one.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, of course.” But I need all the courage I can muster to ask my next question.
The waiter places the new cosmo in front of me. I sip at it, then grip the glass tighter than necessary. “Have you ever heard of a guy named Graham Pierce?”
Nick’s eyes widen, then narrow. “Yeah, why?”
“Nothing. I just heard he’s very professional and could maybe be good for both our businesses.” The words leave a sour taste in my mouth, so I take another sip at the cosmo.
“Funny you should say that. I had a meeting with him yesterday.”
“You did?” Okay, I could do this.
“Yeah, he’s a little slick, but he seems to know what he’s talking about.”
“I thought I’d set up a meeting with him and probably use him too.”
“Samson and I haven’t made up our minds yet. He’s coming to Wicked tomorrow with his proposal.”
“Well, if it all works out, you should probably use him. You always say you want to take Wicked to the next level, and I think he could do it for you.”
“Where did you hear about him?”
“He contacted us, said he had some clubs that would be interested in our services.” I take another sip of my cosmo. “Maybe if we both use him, we could get a discount.”
“I don’t think he’s the type of guy who gives discounts.”
“Probably true.” He’s the type of bastard who blackmails people until he gets what he wants.
Our food comes, and it’s all I can do to make it look like I’m eating while moving the food around on my plate.
By the time we leave, I have a blinding headache from chugging vodka-infused drinks. By the time we get home, my stomach is in knots. I tell Nick I’m not feeling well and head straight for bed.
“You should’ve stuck to your usual wine,” he advises as I head for the stairs.
“You’re probably right.” I trudge up the stairs, and when I reach the upstairs hallway, my phone buzzes with a message.
I swipe at the screen and freeze mid-step.
Graham: I hope you were convincing tonight. For the sake of your family. Also hope you enjoyed your dinner at Cipriani.
I quickly delete the message and draw in a deep breath. Him knowing where we ate tonight? How could everything be falling apart so quickly?
CHERYL
Three Days Before Christmas
After a very restless night, I decide to tell Nick about Graham’s threats. The man proved he was devious and maybe even dangerous.
Again, I’m up before Nick, and when he enters the kitchen, I hand him a cup of coffee.
“I’m starting to like this new habit of yours.” He sips at the steaming cup.
“There’s something I want to tell you.”
His expression immediately flattens, and my heart kicks up as we both wait for my next words.
“Dad?” Portia bursts into the room. “Come upstairs with me. I want to show you what I made Mom for Christmas.”
Nick and I exchange a look, and Portia persists. “C’mon, Dad, I want to show you before I go to school.”
Nick leaves the kitchen, and I release a heavy sigh.
The moment of truth is broken, and my mind spins with all the ways my revelation can go wrong.
If Nick knew Graham threatened me or Portia in any way, he would retaliate for sure.
He might even get the Serpents involved, because old habits are hard to break, and protecting what is his would be his first priority.
Nick put the violent life behind him, but it wouldn’t take much for that side of him to resurface, and that wouldn’t be good for any of us. If he took it too far, it could mean the end of everything we’ve worked for and most definitely hurt Portia, either directly or indirectly.
Plus, if Nick decides on his own to use Graham’s company, all this drama will be for nothing.
By the time Nick returns to the kitchen, I’ve convinced myself to stay quiet about Graham.
Christmas is in three days, and there would be hardly any business done.
Maybe by the new year, I could figure out a solution.
My phone buzzes, and my finger hovers over the screen at the now familiar number. I hit the message and stare at the words.
Graham: I’ll be meeting with Nick later, and I hope you impressed on him the importance of us all working together.
Three little bubbles appear, and I wait.
Graham: It will benefit both of you.
More little bubbles.
Graham: Because it would be such a shame if things didn’t go my way right before Christmas.
“So, what did you wanna tell me?”
I startle when Nick enters the kitchen.
“Ahhh, I forgot.” I throw him a weak smile. “Couldn’t have been too important, right?”
NICK
I still can’t shake the feeling that something is off with Cheryl.
Last night, she acted totally weird. Drinking two cosmos, then hardly eating her favorite dish.
She thought she was fooling me, but I know her way too well.
Even this morning she seemed off. Sounding serious and saying she wanted to tell me something, then when I returned to the kitchen, she claimed she forgot.
The whole thing seemed fucked-up, and as if I don’t have enough to worry about, I have to meet with that prick Pierce in an hour. I don’t care how good Jax, and now Cheryl, said this guy is, something about him seems off.
I’m beginning to see what Samson was talking about, and unless Graham Pierce has an unbelievably good deal for Wicked, I’m out. I know I won’t get any blowback from Samson. He hated the guy from the beginning.
An hour later, Jax escorts Graham into my office, and we take the same seats as our previous meeting, with Jax joining us this time.
“I thought you were going to just send over the proposal.” I believe in getting right to it. “What changed?”
“Just some stipulations I wasn’t aware of yesterday.” Graham lays a thick folder on the coffee table.
“Like?”
“Well, in a very interesting twist of events, when I returned to my office yesterday, I found out a bid I made for a building was accepted.”
“What does that have to do with us?” More random bullshit I don’t need to know.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, this building is owned by Tri-Star Reality.”
“Yeah.” This guy loves to drag out a fuckin’ story.
“Well, I’ve been in the market for more real estate in Vegas, and I put a bid on this building last week.”
“And?” Times like this, I wish I was still strapped. Then I could whip out my .45, press it against his temple, and tell him to stop the fuckin’ drama.
“My bid was accepted.”
“Still don’t see what this has to do with us,” Samson says, but my brain is already spitting out all kinds of different scenarios. None of them good.
“I now own this building,” Pierce reveals.
“You’ll be our landlord,” Samson says.
“In a matter of speaking, yes.”
“And what does that have to do with your proposal?” I ask.
“Nothing, really. Unless you don’t find it acceptable.”
I scoop up the folder and leaf through it. The usual legal jargon that no one understands, until I get to the last page. I draw in a breath, raise my eyes and force my voice to remain level. “You’re planning on canceling our lease.”
“Only if you don’t meet my price increase or—”
“Take you on as our promoter.”
“That’s illegal,” Samson barks.
“No, I can assure you it’s quite legal. I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I’m also a lawyer, and although I haven’t practiced in years, I do know the law.” He waves his hand over the contract. “Feel free to take it to your own lawyers. You’ll find out it’s completely legitimate.”
“And if we don’t take what you’re offering?”