Over the souring smell of vomit mingled with wine, I caught the familiar odor of marijuana and booze, food and cigarettes. The cigarette smoke was so thick it hung in a thick haze around the apartment, and I felt my jaw locking on me. There was a couple on the fat armchair I’d put by the windows so I could look outside at night, and I slammed my fist against the lights as I realized the two of them were screwing right there in my living room.
Two sets of glassy eyes turned toward me. The woman smiled, then giggled. “Heya, Pax…wanna join us?”
“Get out.”
I recognized her vaguely. She was one of the girls Brinke liked to party with. “Get out,” I said again. “And don’t bother coming back. I’m telling building security you’re not allowed in anymore.”
While she continued to blink at me, confused, I grabbed the phone and waited for the front desk to pick up – another thing to like about the building.
I relayed my message while the couple by the window started to move again, low moans reaching my ears – and the guy on the phone. “Ah…Mr. Gorham, do you require assistance?”
“I think I require a lot – but not the kind you can give me. Just remember what I said, and make sure everybody knows.” Then I slammed the phone down and strode to the chair.
Drawing back my foot, I kicked it hard enough that it skidded, even with the two of them screwing on it like wild rabbits.
When they looked at me this time, there was sense in their eyes. At least a little. “You’ve got two minutes to be out of here, or you’ll be arrested for trespassing.”
Every single person up here would be stopped on the way out, and none of them would be coming back. Brinke’s friend – Sanja? Sanya? I couldn’t remember – gaped at me, but her partner got it. He stood up, and she would've fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
“Come on, Pax,” she said, her voice slurred. “Why so mad?”
“Get out.”
“Come on, Jay,” he said, finally managing to zip his jeans. He had the decency to smooth her skirt down, never once lifting his head to acknowledge me.
It was Sanja then.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw somebody looking at me from the kitchen. I pointed at her – no, them. Another couple came slinking around. “Get out.”
Before moving away from the door, I pulled my phone out and pulled up the number for building security and called down, giving terse instructions to watch for the people leaving my penthouse. “First of them coming down now – remember, they are never allowed back in my place again. Ever.”
“Hey…” Sanja said, a whine entering her voice. “You can’t do that. Brinke and I are best friends. I come see her all the time.”
“Yeah. When you want to get high and don’t have any money.” Curling my lip at her, I stepped aside and pointed to the door. “I’m the one who paid for the place. It’s my name on all the papers. Now get out.”
Brinke couldn’t be trusted to sign for anything as important as our home. She’d given a two-hundred-thousand dollar car to cover some debts to a dealer a couple years back. I’d told her then that my name was going on everything, and that if I caught her trying to give away or sell any of it, I'd send her to jail for theft.
She’d cried, yelled, smacked me and thrown things.
I hadn't given in that time, and I'd never regretted it.
My stomach twisted as the door slammed shut behind the people I’d just kicked out. That better be the last…
Disgusted, I stopped in front of the guest bedroom and opened the door to find a mini-orgy going on. Four people took up the massive custom king bed. I hit the light and held up my phone. “You’ve got five minutes to get out or I call the cops.”
Like Sanja and the others, they were so strung out, it took a few seconds for my words to penetrate. When it did, one tried to argue, but I cut her off. “Brinke doesn’t own this place. I do. Get out or I’ll have you arrested. Now!”
I didn’t bother to see if they listened. I’d called the cops if they weren’t gone. I had no problem with that.
I strode to the end of the hall and looked toward our bedroom. I saw Brinke lying on the floor of the guest bathroom just ahead of me, but I ignored her. She wasn’t who I cared–
“Ah, hell, no…” The door to Carter’s room was open. I took off at a run.
I burst inside, already processing the low moans. Hitting the lights, I stared at the couple on my little girl’s canopy style bed. It was round and outfitted with sheer drape-like scarves that hung from the top. She’d seen it and the look on her face had sealed the deal without her asking. She’d wanted a princess bed, and my little girl had gotten her damn princess bed.