I think about denying more, then change my mind. "Something was in one of the drinks I had. It messed me up pretty good. Nathan's double-checking the video with the security guys to see if it was intentional," I tell her. It's enough of the truth to satisfy her, but she doesn't need to know all the details.
"Jesus, Jake, are you okay?" Sophie asks, sitting down next to me. "Should you go get checked out at the hospital?"
"No, I'm fine," I reassure her. "Just a little sluggish. I'll be as good as new in the morning, trust me."
"Still . . ." Sophie says, going quiet. She curls up against me, putting her head on my chest, and I adjust, sliding an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. Maybe it's the club, maybe it's the drug in my drink, but I don't mind it right now. I can use a little bit of reassurance that I'm doing the right thing by her.
"I know," I whisper quietly. "I miss them too."
"I miss them so much," Sophie says, her voice thick, and if I could turn my head again, I know she'd be crying softly. Instead, I hug her and kiss the top of her head.
"Sophie, I know I'll never replace Dad, but bear with me. I'm kinda learning this parenting shit on the fly, you know? But that's why I was so harsh earlier. I don't care about money, and I don't want you to either. You want that red Ferrari? You graduate college and I'll get you one. I'd rather you actually fall in love with the man, not with his bank account. You can marry the garbage man for all I care."
Sophie hugs me tighter. "There's nobody better than my big brother."
"Yeah, well, I love you too," I reassure her.
We sit there like that for a few moments before my phone buzzes and I fish it out of my pocket. "It's Nathan."
Sophie grumbles but gets up. "I'll let you guys talk then," she says. "I'll see you in the morning."
I give her a smile and a nod. "Yo, Nathan," I answer the phone. "You realize what time it is?"
"Hey, man, this night was crazy!" Nathan says, still buzzing off adrenalin. "I can't believe what happened. We'll keep an eye out for both, but that dude is done if he comes back."
"Thanks," I reassure him. "Is that all?"
"Nah, man. Other than your deal, the club opening was as good as we could've imagined. We're going to make millions by next year, just wait and see. I already have three more bands lined up."
I stare at my phone, still wondering why the hell Nathan's calling. "Nathan, couldn't this wait until morning?"
"Yeah, I guess. I'm just excited." Nathan says, slightly chagrined. "Yo, man, about the girl . . . we kinda lost her. She walked out with a friend, but we're gonna keep working on it."
I nod to myself. Roxy . . . if only I could talk to her again to clear this up. "Don't worry about her. I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding. The guy is more of a concern. If he did that at our club, you can guarantee he's doing it elsewhere too."
"Okay, man, just . . . get some sleep. I just want you to know, this club . . . it's our rocket to the moon, baby. Rest easy."
"You too. Goodnight," I say, hanging up on him and lying back. I'm pretty sure I'm asleep before I even hit the couch cushion.
Chapter 8
Roxy
I'm a ball of nerves when I arrive at work Monday. It took me until nearly midnight last night to relax. Every time I heard a car outside on the street, I swore it was the cops ready to drag me off to jail. Eventually, Hannah got me to relax, but I still had to give myself some serious self-love to be able to get to sleep.
I've done pretty good with it so far since I got to work. I was even able to eat some breakfast after Hannah gave me a pep talk. I just need to focus on today. I don't want to look like an idiot the first day I meet my new boss.
But still, as I check on the second floor for interoffice mail, I can't stop thinking about him. How his lips felt against me. His hard body pressed into mine. The feeling of grinding on him, even if he was still inside his pants. It was . . . heartstopping.
I brush my desires and troublesome thoughts away as I take a deep breath and step off the elevator with a stack of papers in my hand, adjusting my black skirt with my right hand before making my way across the floor to my work area. Our office is at the top of a high-rise building downtown and has been around for decades. The floor plan isn't my favorite, an open floor with cubicles that make me feel like either I'm constantly running a maze or that the agents are going to show up to arrest me for talking to Morpheus.
The board room is down the hall, past the coffee room and bathrooms, while along three of the walls are several glass offices for the higher-ups. Along the far back wall are three mostly unused meeting rooms, what a lot of us ‘cubey cats' call the firing room, since the executives never fire someone in their own offices and they don't like giving out pink slips in public.
"Here are the papers Byron wanted," I say, bending over to place the stack on my co-worker, Matt Brown's, desk. I don't want to. I know he's getting a decent view down my blouse, but I have to or else I'm going to lose the rest of my stuff all over the place.
Matt glances up from his laptop, raising his eyebrows, his widow's peak going back on his head, making him look like the old young version of Eddie Munster. He's tall and skinny, with pale reddish hair and brown eyes.
I expect him to at least give me a thank you. You know, tell me how grateful he is about having me run down to the mail room to get his shit for him. Instead, he sighs. "Damn, Rox, took you long enough." He looks at me critically, up and down. "You get some decent makeup yet?"
He's subtly insinuating that I'm starting to sag and look older, which makes me want to laugh. I might have a stress wrinkle or two, but it's nowhere near what his baggy hound dog eyes have hanging under them. I grit my teeth but I don't snap back. He's always picking at me, trying to get under my skin, so I'm not taking the bait. Besides, I know I look good. I'm a fabulous bitch. Or I'd better be, given how long I spent in the mirror this morning. Matt's probably jealous he can't pull off the skirt, blouse, and heels I'm wearing.
I laugh, not letting him know he gets on my last nerve. He's really the only one here whom I dislike. "Let's not, Matthew. I'm trying to be nice today." I'm not gonna tell you about how I want to take that tie and choke you with it, I think inwardly. Maybe hang you from the window as a warning to all those who try to fuck with me-run away as fast as you can.
"Let's not what?" he asks, hiding his smirk. "I was just asking you a question. How was your weekend?"
He knows damn well what he meant, but I'm not going to entertain him. "It was good. Stopped a few hearts, broke a few necks, and stomped a few balls. Ya know, the usual."
He leans back in his chair, chuckling. "You know what, Roxy? I like you. Maybe we should hang out sometime. Have a few drinks after work?"
No way in hell. I'd rather take the Devil out for drinks. He'd only want me around to get drunk and then have the freedom to make me the punchline of his jokes.
"Sorry, got plans," I say politely. I can't resist getting a little twist in, though, and add cheerfully, "Although I have a friend named Brad who you'd absolutely fall in love with."
Matt arches an eyebrow. "Brad?"
I nod. "Mmmhmm. He's tall, blond, blue-eyed, and he can drop his ass to the floor like you've never seen, then work it back up nice and slowly until you're throbbing in your pants."
Matt laughs nervously. "Hey, what are you trying to say?"
Before I can reply, Byron Smith, one of the top level executives, walks over. His tie is loose around his neck, and his combed-over greying hair gives him sort of a cloudy appearance. He's tall, and despite his skinny neck, he's got a big potbelly that's almost cartoonish over his chicken legs. I have no idea why he hangs around Matt. There's a huge gap in age, and Byron's duties have nothing to do with me or Matt. But when the two get together, it's like two grade schoolers. I swear they've swapped fart jokes sometime over the past year.
"Hey, Matt," Byron says, grinning foolishly. "Have you heard about the new computer password system?"
"No, what about it?" Matt asks, and I roll my eyes. I've heard this one before.
"Well, we have to put in new passwords," Byron says. "Tom down the hall went in and decided that his new password would be Tomspenis. He puts it in, and you won't believe what the computer told him."
"What?" Matt asks, grinning.
"It said Try again. Tomspenis is not long enough."
I try not to roll my eyes or to turn it around on them. Instead, I just gather up my stuff. "That's my cue to get back to work," I say. "Talk to you later."