Chapter 24
LILA
We’re riding in silence. I wear a black dress that hits above the knee and hugs my body, revealing my hips and breasts.
It doesn’t look like the type of outfit an employee would wear, but Damon picked this dress, and I suspect it was a big departure from his original plan, when he must’ve thought it would help if I looked mousy and hard to notice.
I wear heels, and my hair rolls down my back.
He said he’d introduce me to the patrons as his new floor manager, and I should go along with his plan––whatever the hell that is.
I hope I’m not getting in trouble on day one.
He’s still mad at the situation.
He is so upset that I forgot about my own struggle with Henrietta.
He insists I won’t go anywhere, and I want to believe him, but I know how determined Henrietta is.
It’s strange how these things change.
Seemingly, I have ignited this woman’s deep desire to destroy everything. I don’t know what these two have in common, what keeps them together, but it can’t be something good.
The more I get to know Damon, the harder it is to imagine the two of them together.
Not now. I’m talking back then.
“Are you sure things will be all right with her?” I ask.
“Yeah…Yeah,” he says, evading my eyes, which is never a good sign.
He’s probably not sure. Henrietta is an unpredictable woman. Despite the legalities of it, she took my presence in his house like a personal affront, and now she doesn’t want to go away.
Feelings or no feelings, she showed him.
He’s harboring dark feelings and barely containing himself.
I wish I knew more about their arrangement––I’m sure that would explain a lot of this––but the club comes into view, and the window of opportunity swiftly closes, so I try to focus on what I need to do as the new floor manager.
The car rolls to a stop before we step out.
He gives me some instructions on what I need to do as we walk into the venue.
I need to distract people as much as I can and pay attention to the men and women who Damon suspects are cheating.
The women work for him.
He hired them a few weeks back, and since then these two men are on a winning streak.
His words register with me, yet somewhere in the back of my mind a different story is playing. I’m still thinking about the possibility that Henrietta will force his hand, and I’ll be on a plane on Monday.
Thinking about spending the rest of the summer in New York with her makes me nauseous.
I ask him if I’m allowed to drink, and he says yes.
I grab a cocktail as soon as he invites me into the back room, where the air is cold and smells like mint, while he gives me a tour of the space.
The patrons have not arrived yet, which works for me. I need to calm down and get into my character.
I meet the servers, the real floor manager––a man––and witness the sweeping of the room for bugs.
Damon has nerves of steel to recruit and hire all these people, considering all the illegal things happening here.
Fifteen minutes later, the guests arrive, and Damon retreats. I panic a little, but then I get used to acting like the manager and interacting with people.
I distract people a lot, all right. Everybody wants to know who I am, and why I’m here.
Two hours in, my cheeks are burning, and I get a tightness in my chest as I begin to spot a pattern.
Every time they cut the cards, one of the waitresses lingers closer to the main table, whether she has something to do over there or not.
I step back to observe the men’s behavior and notice how one of them keeps looking at the woman.
They even flirt a little, and while doing that, the woman slides her eyes down a couple of times and then her fingers move as if she has a nervous tic, signaling numbers.
I retreat to the corridor, call Damon, and quickly give him the information so he can focus on the two.
By the end of the night, I identify not one but three women and four men who are part of this little conspiracy.
Damon’s text arrives a little before midnight.
‘You can go home. I’ll see you later.’
That’s it.
I step outside where one of his men awaits me.
He takes me home and drops me off in front of Damon’s dimly lit, now-welcoming house that I finally have all for myself.
Relieved that I’m done, I enter the kitchen, grab a bottle of water from the fridge and an apple from the counter, and head upstairs.
An hour later, I’m out again and dive into the pool.
Swimming for a while helps me release the tension in my body.
Later, I relax in a lounge chair and think about this life. It’s good. It’s strange. It’s dangerous.
It’s nothing like I’d like for myself.
Waiting for a man to come home from his club, and not knowing what tomorrow brings, is hardly my idea of a perfect life.
And what happens when you no longer know whether he’s late because of work or because boredom has pushed him out of your bedroom?
My shoulders shudder in resentment as if those things have already happened. Maybe this isn’t the best time to think about this type of stuff.
I lean back and close my eyes, trying to suppress my anxious thoughts. So, I’m thinking about Keira and Nicky. About my life back in New York.
About my future.
Next year, I’ll need to figure out whether I want to live in New York after graduation––probably not. Whether I move out of state or not. Whether I work for the rest of my life, start a business, or a charitable foundation.
My father left me enough money to have the luxury of thinking in those terms.
I’m lucky in that way, although I don’t consider myself lucky without them in my life. They were too young to go––my parents––and I don’t even remember discussing these things with them when they were alive.
A pang of melancholy spins in my chest when a voice rings nearby, startling me.
“You need to know something about him,” Henrietta says, and I instantly pull upright and flick my eyes to her.
“What is wrong with you, woman?” I snap. “He specifically asked you not to come here.”
She dismisses me with a clipped gesture.
“I don’t care about what he wants. You need to know the truth about him.”
I pull a towel from a nearby chair and wrap it around my shoulders. I’m not comfortable with her standing next to my chair and looking at me. She wears flowing pants and a shirt tied at the waist.
She holds a margarita as well when she sits on a lounge chair in front of me.
“I don’t care about the truth,” I say, annoyed with her.
I push to my feet, ready to move away from her.
“Sit.”
I laugh.
“I’m not going to sit only because you’ve said so.”
“Sit and listen to me, you silly girl. I know this man better than you do. I’m doing you a favor. You two might only have a fling right now, or so you’d like to believe, but this is way more important to him than you imagine.”
She's got my attention.
“What do you mean?’
She’s pointing to my seat and takes a sip.
“Sit for crying out loud.”
I lower myself on the edge of my chair.
“Has he told you why he married me?”
Her eyes dive deep into mine, searching for answers.
“He only said he’d never been in love.”
A cold, sarcastic smile arches her lips as she looks away.
If I didn’t know her, I could swear she was a smoker. Maybe she was in the past. If she were, she’d probably take a drag and blow out smoke just about now, pondering her next words.
“At least he was truthful with you.”
“How come, though?” I ask.
She shifts her focus to me.
“How come he didn’t fall for you?” I go on, falling back in my seat, with my mouth slightly open. “And what about all those stories from before?”
“What stories from before?” she asks with a lifted eyebrow.
“You two had quite a stormy relationship.”
“Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
A cunning smile tugs at her lips.
“Why can’t you tell me? Did he say anything to you?”
“No, he didn’t. It was…”
“Yes?”
I say nothing.
She throws her head back and studies me with an amused expression on her face.
“Tell me what you’ve heard, at least.”
I suck in a short breath.
“I heard that the two of you were jealous of other people. That your relationship was rocky. It must have been some deep feelings that had fueled that.”
She purses her lips, a thoughtful look on her face.
“Was it Frankie by any chance?”
I press my lips together, while she sinks back into her seat.
“It was, wasn’t it? He always likes to run his mouth.”
“Isn’t it public knowledge?’
“Yes, it is. But he’s the only man who dares to talk about it. He still can’t get over it.”
“Over what?”
“Frankie and I had slept together,” she says, smiling, and my eyebrows move up.
“Isn’t he a little younger for you?”
She chuckles, amused.
“Does it matter? He’s not much younger. And sex was good.
Like Damon, Frankie was never interested in anything other than having fun.
And fun we had. Perhaps too much. Damon couldn’t stand him.
Although Damon wasn’t a saint either. Why do you think we fought so much?
For one, the makeup sex was out of this world, and we both knew it.
And then, I couldn’t stand all the female attention that he got.
Every evening, some bimbo followed him around; I nearly burst a vessel.
He was never a free-for-all type of man, but he indulged from time to time, especially when his needs got wild, and he was looking for some relief.
We fucked a lot, fought a lot. What could I say?
We did everything, except falling for each other. ”
“So you’re saying this thing was mutual? Not falling for each other?”
“I’m saying we were both tough players. I knew who he was.
And he knew who I was. Had we fallen for each other, one of us, if not both, would’ve had their heart broken.
We’re not that kind of people. We don’t care about getting broken over someone, and this is the first thing you need to know about him. ”
“Hmm…”
I ponder for a second.
“Let’s say I knew that.”
She flashes an incredulous grin.
“Did you?”
“Yes, I did. I’m not the kind of person who falls in love either.”
“Right.”
“What? You don’t believe me?”