He had been at the club four out of seven nights. This was his new regular. He went with or without Frankie and Ritchie. He was known at the door. He was seated in Frankie's VIP section. He drank $300 bottles of wine. He would do $800 worth of blow a day. He was constantly high. He'd take a break to do the books, but he would immediately start using as soon as work was over. Sometimes, he would be up for three days straight.
He would pick out appetizers before he walked into The Crystal Cave. He usually chose anyone who looked the least like Allie.
Tonight, he was with Frankie and Ritchie. He left Allison at home. For starters, he chose a redhead and a bleach blonde. They hung on to him like he was famous. He was wearing his Armani suit this evening. They walked through the club, people saying hi and trying to get close to them.
They were sent drinks and drugs. He also had a taste for Vicodin and Oxys. If it got him high, he took it. Frankie had hired extra servants for men and women to do body shots with. They all sat down in the white high-back leather booths.
"Hey, Peppermint," Dean said. "Go fetch me some shots so I can show my two friends here how they are done."
"Sure thing, Mikey. I'll be right back." He pinched her ass and watched her walk away.
"Frankie! You need to have the girls wear boy shorts sometimes. The kind that rides up and has their ass cheeks sticking out."
Frankie pointed at him. "MIKEY, I LIKE YOUR STYLE! For now, on Fridays, the girls wear boy shorts. New rule," he said. "Why don't you ever come up with an innovative idea, Ritchie? Mikey's ideas have made me more money in the last two months than you ever have. Careful, you might be demoted to my number three."
Ritchie was pissed. He hated Dean. He didn't like how he had moved in on his territory in only a few months. It was bad enough that he was always Frankie's lackey. Now, he was being replaced by someone not treated like a lackey. That was still Ritchie's job.
Peppermint returned with the shots. He looked at the two girls he ordered when he came in.
"Now, ladies, who wants to go first?" he asked.
They both giggled and raised their hands.
"What are your names?"
"I'm Sara," the redhead answered.
"I'm Lynne," the blonde said.
"Alphabetical order." He took Lynne to the back corner of the booth. She giggled the entire time.
"Do you know how to do these?" he asked.
She nodded.
"I do. I've done them here before."
"You know these were my idea."
"Can I go first?" he asked.
"You can do whatever you want to me."
He put the lime in her mouth widthwise, gave her the shot to hold, and got on his knees.
"Now, where to put this salt? Where should it go?"
He opened her legs at her knees. She wasn't wearing any panties.
"Oh Lynne, no panties? You're a naughty girl," he said.
He pulled her hips forward. He ran his tongue up her inner thigh, and up he did. The tip of his tongue flicked against her. She sunk a little lower.
"I like naughty girls, Lynne," he said.
He sprinkled the salt.
"Are you ready, baby?" he asked.
She nodded her head quickly.
He licked the salt from her thigh, took the shot, and stripped the lime as she held it between her teeth. He did another one on her and two with Sara. The snow was falling, and the drinks were plentiful.
"Lynne. Come with me."
He put his hand out and lifted her off the couch.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"How naughty are you, Lynne?"
"For you, Mikey, I can be as naughty as you want me to be," she said, sounding childish.
"Really? See that booth over there in the corner?"
She nodded and smiled.
"That's Mikey's coveted corner. I've heard stories. Fantastic, orgasmic stories."
"We are going there; you are going to let me have full unlawful carnal knowledge right now. In the open. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes, I do, and yes, I will."
He walked Lynne over to a small, high-back booth in the corner, partly in the shadows.
He sat down and patted his knee. She sat down on his lap. He now didn't care what got on his suit. He grabbed her head and aggressively pulled her head to him. The kiss had only the emotion of lust in it. There was too much tongue for being in an ordinary place, but it fit perfectly here. She put her hand on him, and her eyes grew wide.
"Oh my God."
"Want it, Baby? Think your cunt can handle this?" he asked.
He slid his hand up her skirt. His fingers found her, and he began to run his finger along her slit. He could feel her getting wet. He rubbed her clit with his thumb.
"Yes," she moaned.
"You need to beg me for it," he ordered her. He stuck two of his long, large fingers inside of her.
"Oh God."
He started sliding them back and forth.
"Don't come, Lynne," he whispered into her ear.
He moved her hair over to her shoulder and ran his tongue up the back of her neck.
"I... I can't stop it."
He quickly removed his hand from under her skirt just as she was about there.
"Ok. I want it. Please. Let me have it, all of it. Now!" she begged.
She unbuttoned his pants. She stood up and slid them down just until he was exposed.
"Oh, this is going to be fun," she said.
"Wait." He reached into his dress shirt pocket and pulled out a condom. "Don't forget the body bag. I don't know where you've been," he said.
She opened the wrapper with her teeth and rolled the condom down over his erection.
"Good girl. Now come here." He patted his knees. She sat down on his lap.
"And what would you like for Christmas, little girl?" he asked.
He slid himself into her. She was anything but tight. Thank God he has a huge thick cock.
"Oh my God. Oh my God." Lynne just repeated it over and over.
"Well?"
"You're giving it to me right now."
"You bet your ass I am."
Her head was moving slowly from side to side. Her eyes were closed. She was mumbling to herself. He didn't know what she was saying, and he really didn't give a shit.
There he was. Drugs were like fuel running through his veins. He was sitting out in the open at a crowded club with a girl he met 2 hours ago on his lap, grinding himself into her.
In the heat of the moment, a memory of him and Allie on the couch in his basement came to the forefront of his mind. He closed his eyes and put his head back on the back of the booth. He whispered something. If it were quiet, you would have heard him say, Allie. God, I miss you so much.
He squeezed his eyes so tight he saw color bursts.
There he was in his basement, Allie on his lap, her hair in loose curls swaying on her back. He ran his hands over her back, shoulders, and spine. He ran his fingers over her scars. He took hold of her hair and gently pulled her head backward. She leaned back, turned her head, and kissed him. It was soft and open-mouthed, the tips of their tongues gently touching.
"Allie."
He said her name as he exhaled. It was throaty and sounded like he was in emotional pain—because he was. He didn't want to leave his mind. He wanted to hide there until he could get back to her.
He was about to climax; he didn't know if she had, nor did he care. He opened his eyes and was back at the club kissing Lynne.
He came hard. He slumped back. What he wouldn't give to be on his couch with Allie right now. He missed making love to her. He didn't mind the mindless sex, just the brainless women.
He grabbed her hips and stopped her from moving. "I'm just about to come. I only need a few more seconds, please," she begged.
"Not my problem. You should have either come before me or with me. When I'm done, we are done. I didn't do this for your gratification. I did it for mine. You should just be happy you got the chance to be with me. Do you know how many bitches in here want to be with me?
She nodded her head.
"Now," he whispered. "Get the fuck off me."
She got up, fixed her skirt, and started to walk away.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Did you forget something?" He looked down.
"Take it off and throw it away."
She took it off him and headed off to the bathroom.
He stood up and fixed his suit. He made his way to the private bathroom to clean up.
He washed his hands and splashed water on his face. As he toweled it off, he looked at himself in the mirror. He stared into his eyes. He felt a shift in himself. It could only be described as when Dean came out. Mikey faded away until he decided to come back out. He was looking at Dean, not Mikey. He doesn't seem to see much nowadays. The memory of Allie and him together, Dean fought his way out.
"What the hell was that? What you did. How did you treat that poor girl? What you said to her was appalling."
He looked down into the sink. "Yeah, but she came with me willingly, and she is not a fine, upstanding lady. Usually, they put panties on before they leave the house. You treated her like she should be treated: cheap, fast, and loose. And really, you treat every woman the same, so don't be so hard on yourself.
That happened now and then. The shift in his personality.
He made his way back over to Frankie. As he walked up, he saw a couple of guys getting in Frankie's face. The club's security was walking swiftly over. Dean waved them off. They nodded at him and stood down. Frankie saw him stepping up onto the platform.
"Gentlemen, I think maybe you need to take this up with my accountant," Frankie said.
Dean was standing behind the two men.
"Why the fuck would we want to talk to your faggot accountant?" Vinny said.
Dean tapped the one talking on his shoulder. He turned around and was looking at the base of Dean's throat. He slowly lifted his head.
"Hey," Dean said. "Nice to meet you. I'm the faggot accountant."
His friend started to back off slowly. He had his hands up in front of him.
"Look, I don't want any trouble. I was just having a conversation with him."
"Just a conversation? Would you like to have a conversation with me?"
"Hey man, I have no issue with you."
"What if I had one with you?" he asked.
"I've never met you before. How could you possibly have an issue with me?"
Dean started walking towards him. With every step forward Dean took, the man took backward.
"Well, I really didn't appreciate what you called me. You see, someone I love very much is gay, and I don't like people using words like faggot. So naturally, I don't like you."
The man came to a sudden stop when his back hit the wall.
Frankie had come up behind Dean. "Mm, mm, um. You made my friend terribly upset, Vinny."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were, well, you," he said to Dean.
Dean took Vinny by the throat and picked him up off his feet.
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't hear you down there. You were you saying?"
Vinny's face was turning red. "I'm sorry," he croaked out.
"Did you hear him, Frankie? I didn't hear him."
"Frankie didn't hear you, Vinny. I think you need to be a little louder. The music is kinda loud in here."
"I'M SORRY!"
He did his best to yell while being strangled and slammed up against the wall.
Dean opened his hand, and Vinny fell to his feet. He grabbed and rubbed his throat.
"I am sorry I disturbed you, Frankie. I will deal with the issue on my own. I am sorry that I bothered you this evening."
"Vinny, I appreciate your apology. And yes, you will deal with this on your own, and you will never come back to my club. Do you understand?" he asked.
"Yes."
"That includes anybody that you know. Except for your sister. She is a fine piece of ass."
Vinny didn't take that well. Who could blame him? Feeling he needed to defend his sister's good name and honor, he swung at Frankie.
Just like that night at the bar, Dean caught his fist in midair. He let out a sigh.
"Vinny. Why did you do that? You see, now I must hurt you," he said.
"It was just a reflex I--"
He couldn't finish his sentence. Dean had already landed a punch into his stomach. He knocked the wind right out of him.
"You know, I once watched a beautiful little lady kick a man so hard she almost put him through a wall. How hard could I kick you if this lovely little lady could do something like that? I think I would actually get you through the wall."
Vinny was gasping for air.
"But I don't want to damage Frankie's wall," he whispered into his ear.
Dean took him by the back of his head and slammed his knee into his face. Vinny went down, face bleeding, completely knocked out. Dean waved the security over that was initially approaching.
"Pick him up and get him out of here. Make sure his buddy goes with him," Dean said.
Frankie slapped him on the back.
"Come on, come sit by me. We are going to have some of my special reserve."
He waved Peppermint over. "Go into the special reserve case and fetch me my Crown Royal the Blue LaSalle Edition XL bottle. Got it?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver key on a keychain that looked like a piece of crystal.
She leaned over, coming close to his ear. "How many glasses do you want me to bring?"
Frankie thought about it for a moment. "I guess you can bring a glass for Ritchie too. Not that he earned it or deserved it."
"Yes, sir," Peppermint said.
Lynne had come back from the bathroom. She went to sit by Dean.
"What are you doing?"
"I was going to sit down."
"Well, you're not sitting here. Find someone else, somewhere else. Why don't you sit by Ritchie? He doesn't mind eating leftovers."
She looked offended. She just stood there.
"Awe, come on, Lynne, I'll never forget meeting you, but I'll keep trying." He waved her off.
Peppermint returned with the bottle of Crown, ice, and three crystal highball glasses. She prepped the glasses, and Frankie poured out the awfully expensive whisky.
"See this? It's an 800-dollar bottle of Crown. This is the good stuff. Just wait until you taste it."
Dean did his best not to laugh. He knew right now he had a bottle of The Macallan Michael Dillion he got at auction for $1.4 million on his top self. He used Diva Vodka for everyday use, which runs for $1000 a bottle.
Damn, Frankie. I don't think I have ever experienced the flavor of an $800 bottle of alcohol.
Because to my family and me, that is cheap stuff, he thought.
Dean never liked to boast or show off his money, but Mikey wanted to tell everyone exactly what he had at his disposal. He wanted to live the life Dean ultimately rejected.
He watched Peppermint pour the glasses taking care not to spill any of it. Her hands were shaking slightly. She had an expression on her face that he had seen before. It looked like it belonged on the face of a child. Like a little sister would make. He shifted. He started to think of Natalie. He began to worry about seeing her when he came home. He would never want his sister to work in a place like this, working for Frankie and being called a servant. Dean's heart started to hurt. He looked at her, an innocent kid being used by this place, stripping away her dignity and self-esteem six days a week.
"Peppermint, come here," Dean said.
She walked over to him, and he patted his lap. She sat down on his knee.
"How old are you?"
"I'm twenty-five."
"You know I had a friend who taught me how to tell if someone is lying, and you my dear, are lying. So, let's try this again. How old are you?" he asked.
Her voice got low, and she moved her mouth closer to his ear so only he could hear her.
"Will you tell anyone if I tell you?"
"Nope. I will keep it to myself."
She looked into his eyes. Even though they were the same, they looked completely different. He seemed concerned about her, and she felt like she could trust him.
"I'm nineteen."
He pulled his head back so he could look at her. "No shit," he said.
"Please don't tell anyone. I will get fired. You must be 21 to work here. My friend Jodi works here and makes such great money that she got me the job. I really need this job."
"Meet me in the corner booth in three minutes. Okay?"
"Umm, okay."
Dean took a couple of lines, downed the whisky, and got up. He walked off without saying a word to anyone. He met her at the corner booth he had been at with Lynne.
"Mr. DeLuca, I mean no disrespect, but I don't--" she was cut off.
"No, that's not why we are here. You're a good girl. You remind me of my sister."
"Did you smack your sister's ass, too?"
"There was a good amount of slapping her ass in a brotherly way."
He dug into his pocket and pulled out a large wad of one-hundred-dollar bills.
"You need to do me a favor?" he asked. He started counting out the bills.
"I can try."
"I'm going to be going back home, hopefully soon. When I do, I want you to find a new job."
"I can't do that. I need this job."
He folded up the bills and handed them to her.
"This is seven thousand dollars. When I am gone, you take this money and use it while you find a new job. Will you do that for me?" he asked. "You need to leave this cesspool."
"Oh my God. I can't take this."
She tried to give the money back.
"I'm going to give you a piece of advice. If someone gives you something, just take it and say thank you. If it is offered to you, then they will feel you are worth it. Peppermint--"
"Juliana. My name is Juliana," she said.
He smiled at her, the same smile he would give Allie when she did something sweet for him.
"That is a beautiful name."
She blushed and looked down at the floor. He put his hand under her chin and picked up her head so she was looking at him.
"Hey. Always keep your head up unless you are admiring someone's shoes. Got it?"
"Okay."
"Will you try? I can't leave knowing that this is your life. Like I said, you remind me of my sister," he said.
She nodded her head.
"I will. You are a kind person. I like this version of you."
"We all have our moments, but don't let that get around. I have a reputation to protect."
"Okay."
"One more thing."
"What?"
"I am sorry for the way I have treated you, including pinching your ass tonight. Here I am telling you that you need to get away from here, and I am acting like the person you need to get away from."
"Remember the night we first met?"
"Of course."
"You thanked me and gave me the most fantastic smile. No one ever says thank you around this place. You haven't been that person in a long time. You became the guy who smacked my ass and ordered me around. I like the guy who said thank you and who you have been at this moment.
He kissed her on the cheek, and they walked back to the VIP section together.
"Where did you two go?"
"We went and had a conversation. Isn't that right, Peppermint?" He winked at her and then lightly