Since Camden and Roman are in Miami for a week, I have decided to take full advantage of the fact that I am the acting manager of Lotus, and delegate my ass off. Cutter’s busy all week with the baseball player that the guys handle, so it’s totally my show.

On Monday night I give Marco the honors of opening and closing. Mondays are half-price on whatever’s on tap. We get a lot of newbies on Monday nights. People who normally wouldn’t get in on the busy nights. We use the house deejay and only need minimal staff working, so I feel pretty confident that Marco can handle it.

I spend the entire day pampering myself. I get my hair blown out. A manicure and pedicure. Pink gel on the hands and a darker shade of hot pink on my toes. And during my ninety-minute hot stone massage, I get a call that I can’t ignore.

“Hello?” I answer in a dreamy like state.

“What the fuck are you doing? Why do you sound like that?”

Of course it can only be Camden.

“Hey, King Kong,” I say in a sultry voice. Motioning to the masseuse to continue with what feels like God’s work.

“That mouth.”

“Mmmm.”

“Do you want me to come home, Jade? Is that why you’re testing me like this?”

“I’m getting a massage which you’re interrupting by the way.”

“You should be at the club.”

“It’s too early to sit in that dark ass club. Why are you trying to regulate my life from all the way there?”

I look at the clock on the wall.

“Wait, you can’t even be in Miami yet. Where are you calling me from?”

“The plane.”

Now I notice it. The tension in his voice.

“Do you not like flying, King Kong?”

I give the masseuse the one moment signal and sit up on the table.

“Not really.”

“Shouldn’t the plane have taken off already?”

“Yeah but we haven’t taxied yet. Something about waiting our turn in line. They’re letting us use our phones in the meantime. I didn’t know you liked massages.”

“I haven’t had one in a long time.”

“Where are you getting it?”

“A place in Olde City.”

“Expensive.”

“My boss pays me the big bucks so I splurged,” I kid. “Why don’t you like to fly?”

“Turbulence.”

“Big badass Camden King is afraid of a little turbulence? The man I know isn’t afraid of anything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Flying in the air isn’t natural, Jade. I’m not ashamed of a little healthy fear. That’s how I know I’m alive.”

“It’s safer then driving a car.”

“I’m sure you read that misleading statistic somewhere and just automatically believed it.”

“I think you’re the one that needs to believe it. You’re the one who’s going to be up in the air really soon.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome.” I giggle. “Listen, nothing’s going to happen all right? You’re on a short flight. You’re on a reputable airline. I bet the captain is well rested and knows how to handle himself when a little choppiness starts.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I’m right. Plus, if something ever happened to you think of all the trouble I would get myself into.”

“Fucking true.”

His voice sounds better.

“Look, my therapist is giving me the stink eye.”

“All right.”

“Call me when you land,” I demand.

He pauses for a moment.

“I will, baby.”

I pay my masseuse double to go over the original time and reschedule her next appointment with a different therapist. Now I am starting to understand why the boys are so quick to throw their money at situations and at people. It works.

I am feeling absolutely blissful after my massage ends and now I think I should top the entire day off with a good meal. There’s a local Italian spot close to my apartment building that would be a perfect place for a little linguine and clams. After ordering my meal and a glass of white wine, I get a call from my sister of all people.

“Twice in the same year?” I say when I answer her call.

“Funny, Jade. What are you doing?”

“Having dinner.”

“Ooh, with the twin?”

“No, Jana. How can I help you tonight?”

“I was taking a break from writing a paper and thought about you.”

“Were you writing about sibling rivalry?”

“Ha, ha. No. I was writing a paper on the psychological effects of family members caring for a relative with Alzheimer’s—”

“And what pray tell does that have to do with me?”

“Well, Alzheimer’s makes me think of older people. Sick people. Which in turn made me think of Dad and how you won’t talk to him. And there you have it. That’s how I thought of you.”

“You need to conduct a study on yourself. You know what they say about the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m not talking to our sperm donor.”

I take a bite of my bread dipped in olive oil.

“What are you eating?”

“Linguine and clams.”

“Mom’s favorite?”

“One of her favorite’s, yes.”

“Tell me a story about Mom.”

“I’m not a good story teller, Jana, and frankly I’m not in the mood to talk about Mom.”

“Tell me anyway. You remember her so much better than I do.”

I take a sip of my wine.

“She was a singer. A sing in the shower type singer. She didn’t sing in a choir or anything like that. But there was this one time, when I signed up for the third grade talent show.”

“You did?”

“I had no idea what I was doing when I signed up. There was a sheet going around and all the kids were signing up, so I did too. When Mrs. Patasky asked me what song I had selected for my solo, I almost vomited my soft pretzel from lunch right there on her desk.”

“Ugh, I couldn’t stand Mrs. Patasky. She was a horrible teacher.”

“So anyway, I was so horrified that I got myself into this ridiculous situation, I didn’t tell Mom. I just told her I was part of the talent show and what night to show up.”

“Did Dad come?”

“No, Jana. He never came to shit. How can you not remember that?”

“Sorry, sorry, go ahead.”

“So Mom came, and you were there too in pigtails and a red checkered dress.”

“I’ve seen that dress in pictures. I remember.”

“So we weren’t allowed to sing anything suggestive in the show which basically cut out everything they were playing on the radio back then, so I had to go with a Disney hit. Aladdin’s ‘A Whole New World.’”

“Sheesh, you had to sing one of the hardest ones.”

“When I got up there, I didn’t just feel nerves, I felt like there was a war raging inside of my chest.”

“What did you do?”

“I looked at Mrs. Patasky with pitiful eyes, but she wasn’t taking the bait. The talent show was her baby and she didn’t want to look like a complete failure in front of the entire school, so she gave me that infamous Patasky glare and cued the music.”

“Why that woman didn’t have you all rehearse the show is unfathomable to me. So then what happened?”

I take another sip of my wine. My mouth dry from talking.

“I opened my mouth and barely a peep came out. It was like my vocal chords were saying oh hell no, bitch, not today. I remember how the audience was staring at me. Waiting with bated breath for me to sing a note.”

“And then?”

“And then I saw Mom excusing herself with you in tow down the aisle. Then up the steps and onto the stage. She asked them to kindly cue the music again, because the Barlow girls were going to do a group number.”

“What! I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t, you were a baby.”

“I was in kindergarten I think.”

“Exactly, a baby. Anyway Mom grabbed my hand and stepped us both to the mic, and when she started singing, gosh, you could hear a pin drop in the auditorium. She was amazing. She hit every note.”

“What did I do?”

“You were twittering around the stage like the nut job you are. You believed yourself to be a serious dancer at the time. Not singers like us.”

“And then what happened?”

“Then we received a standing ovation and some of the kids at lunch gave me their good snacks for three days straight. I was popular for like a week, and I had the most talked about performance that year.”

“Wow, Mom was so cool.”

“She was.”

“So, Jade …”

“Yeah?”

“About Daddy.”

“I’m hanging up, Jana.”

“Wait … I’m not just asking for him. I’m asking for you. Imagine how much better you’ll feel if you forgive him.”

“I’ll feel like yanking the IV out of his arm to speed things along.”

“Sheesh, you’re a beast. You’ll never change.”

“Exactly, Dr. Barlow, now go write a paper on that shit.”

An hour and another glass of wine later.

Cutter: Where the hell are you?

Crap.

Me: What do you mean?

Cutter: Don’t try that sweet bullshit with me. I’m not Cam.

Me: You miss me, King Cutter?

He likes that nickname.

Cutter: Stop with the bullshit and get your tiny ass in here and do your job.

Me: All right already! I have to go home and change real quick. I’ll be there in thirty.

Cutter: Make it twenty

That King brother has way too much time on his hands. Unless Camden has requested that his brother keep tabs on me. Yeah, maybe that’s it. I wouldn’t put it past him.

After running home for a quick shower and to change into a black sleeveless top, dark jeans, my boots and a black puffer coat, I notice that my unwanted guest is not sitting inside of his blue Honda. Interesting. It would be a great time to do a little snooping.

I try each door and stumble upon a backseat door that’s open. I reach around and unlock the driver’s door, look around my surroundings and hop in. I need to make this quick.

I rummage through the glove compartment, the sun visors, the console between the two front seats, but I don’t find much. Just documentation for the car, which matches the name and address on his license. Insurance. Vehicle registration. AAA membership. I also notice an old speeding ticket, but after a closer glance, realize that he isn’t the recipient of the ticket. He was the issuer.

Chase is a cop.

Fuck.

I hop out of the car, making sure to put everything back where I found it, get in my rickety death trap and make my way quickly towards the club. I decide to turn the radio off, so I can drive in complete silence. Sometimes the hum of a car engine helps me process, and I certainly have some thinking to do.

Cutter greets me at the door. “Thank you for making an appearance at your own club, Manager Barlow.”

I look around and turn my lips up. “It’s dead in here. You didn’t need me.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s dead in here. You have employees that you’re responsible for. But no … you’re too busy getting manis and pedis to bother checking in with your place of employment.”

“You ARE following me!”

“Nah, you must have told Joan where you were going.”

“You better not have a tracker on my cell phone. I will kick your ass and Camden’s.”

“Calm down, we’re not running some sort of secret government surveillance program in here. There’s no tracker on your phone.”

I don’t care what he says. I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn it on. Swiping the screens to check for the appearance of any new apps that I may not have noticed.

“By the way, there’s a customer over there asking for you. New guy. Said you told him about the club and a promise of a free drink.”

“What? I didn’t—”

I look over to where Cutter is pointing and can’t fucking believe it. Chase is in Lotus and he looks totally different. He’s ditched the hoodie, evidently taken a shower, and looks quite presentable. He nods his head hello, and I respond with a half-hearted smile in response.

“You know this guy?” Cutter suspiciously questions me after noticing my reaction.

“Umm, yeah. I told him about half-price Monday nights. Let me go say hello.”

Cutter grabs my forearm to stop me.

“Who is he?”

“Just a guy.”

“A guy you met where?”

“In my building.”

“New tenant?”

“Cutter, you sound just as bad as your brother.”

“The two of us are interchangeable, Jade,” he says, giving me a weird look that would almost resemble heat if I didn’t know better.

“I’m going to go speak to him now.”

“Uh, huh. Go ahead.”

Great, now Cutter is going to watch me with an eagle eye. I’ve got to play this just right.

“It’s nice to see you stop by.” I pat Chase’s shoulder as if he’s an old friend.

“Thanks, Jade. I heard about half-priced beer and couldn’t resist.”

He smiles, but it never quite reaches his eyes.

“You mean I told you about it,” I correct him with a forced grin.

He looks around me and sees Cutter watching us.

“That’s what I meant.” He smirks. Probably thinking he now has something on me. “I remembered you telling me about it, and so I figured I’d stop by.”

“Sure let me get one for you.” I wrap my knuckles on the bar. “Hey, Joan, can you get my friend Officer Whitman here, whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing.”

Chase looks at me.

I stare at him.

Checkmate.

“You’ve been doing some investigating I see,” he says.

“You seem to know so much about me, I was curious, and I’m pretty sure you just stopping unwanted by my place of employment to harass me constitutes another example of you violating the stalking laws in this state.”

“Am I harassing you?”

“Your mere existence is harassment. No more playing games, officer. What do you want?”

“I want a beer and to listen to a little music.”

“Outside of my house was one thing, but you coming here is another. You’re asking for trouble you don’t want. Just because you’re a cop means nothing. We know cops too.”

“We?”

“Yes, the people that own this place.”

“Well I’m off duty tonight. Just a citizen. I want a couple of beers and maybe to dance with a few pretty ladies and that’s it. No trouble.”

“I want you out.”

“Then put me out.”

The way he practically spits the words of his last sentence rattle me. It reminds of the one thing that he and Tyson just may have in common. A temper and a very distinct disdain for women. I can tell that he is dying for me to force his hand. I know an itchy finger when I see it. I lived with a man who had one. He wants to hurt me; he’s just looking for an excuse.

“Excuse me for a moment and enjoy your drink. It’s on the house,” I say, then walk away.

He silently nods his head in acceptance of my offer and turns his stool around. I’m pretty sure Joan overheard some of our conversation, because she gives me a quizzical look. I smile to assure her that everything is fine, although I’m not sure she totally bought it.

I speed walk my way upstairs, into the office, and lock the door. I pull out one of Camden’s spare laptops to do a deep search on one Officer Chase Whitman. Annapolis, Maryland. Camden uses some sort of special search engine on his computers that the average person doesn’t know about.

My mouth is agape after my search. Chase is definitely a cop. A crooked cop. After a two-year investigation, and a suspension without pay, Chase was released from duty. Separate and apart from that case, and before he was suspended, Chase was also the lead investigator on an Annapolis cold case involving one twenty-three-year-old victim named, Tyson Whitman.

Tyson was exactly twenty-three years old when we split up. Was he murdered back then? Could Chase think that I actually have something to do with his death? Now it makes sense. How could I have been so stupid. He was totally behind the chain of emails that drew me to Baltimore. Everything seemed so legit. I even tracked the IP address of the damn things. I actually thought I was meeting a distant relative of my mother’s. Someone who could share more memories of her with me. Someone, if it panned out, would be family for me and Jana to connect with. Unfortunately, my desperation for a connection has led a possible sociopath to my door. I close the laptop, and consider what I need to do. How I need to handle this.

Someone begins turning on the knob of the office and shaking the door to try and open it. I start to panic a little. Chase being inside of Lotus, knowing where I live, and discovering what his true source of motivation may be has got me rattled.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Open the door.”

I run to the door and let Cutter in hoping the fear in my voice doesn’t register. Cutter stands directly in front of me, quietly assessing my face, in an effort to determine for himself what’s going on with me.

“Something’s wrong.”

I bend my head down to hide from him.

“Something … is wrong,” I admit.

“Is it the guy downstairs?”

I exhale. “Yes.”

Cutter proceeds to unlock one of the lock boxes hidden behind the love seat. He pulls out a large, silver gun, checks it for ammo, and then slides it behind his back in his waist.

“Cutter.”

“What, munchkin?”

“I haven’t even told you who he is.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“I need to ask you something before you go down there.”

“What?”

“Do you know what Roman and Camden did to my ex, Tyson?”

“What are you asking about that shithead for?”

“Because the shithead’s brother is downstairs, and he’s a cop, and I think he thinks we have something to do with Tyson being dead.”

Cutter cradles my head between his two enormous hands and looks into my eyes with sincerity.

“I wasn’t there, but I can promise you that they didn’t have anything to do with that. Camden would have told me.”

I jump when the door to the office is kicked open wide.

“Problem is I don’t believe that shit,” the intruder says snarling.

Chase enters the room and grabs me by the throat with his arm. He quickly closes the door with the bottom of his foot. My neck stuck in the crook of his elbow. A gun pointed at my temple. I can’t move.

Cutter steps back and simultaneously pulls out his weapon.

Pointing it at Chase.

His left eye twitching.

His stance relaxed but ready.

“Let her go, and I’ll let you walk out of here.”

“So you’re a cop killer too?”

“I’m not anything but a man that wants you to let go of his friend.”

“What is it about this trick anyway?” He squeezes my throat a little harder. “I’ve been watching her for weeks, seen her naked as a jaybird, and I don’t get it. Why are you assholes willing to kill for her?”

Cutter’s eye twitches a little more.

“No one in here killed your brother.”

“No one in this room? So you’re saying it was your brother that did it? Or perhaps that Roman asshole? Yeah, I think he’s the one responsible.”

“We can talk about this all night once you let go of Jade.”

He squeezes my throat a little tighter. I plead with my eyes for Cutter to stop bringing up my name. Chase doesn’t like it, and the angrier he gets, the more I can’t breathe.

“It’s hard to get that one to make an appearance. I lured Jade to Baltimore in the hopes that he’d follow her. I just assumed she was fucking him and he’d come running. But he didn’t come. Only your brother did. Then I started watching her at her apartment. Thinking she’d run to him like usual to tell and that he’d show up there. But this one’s a tricky little trick. Seems like she didn’t say anything to any of y’all about me.”

He tightens his grip yet again.

I can see Cutter is getting agitated.

This negotiation isn’t going the way he intended.

“You’ve got the wrong people,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Well this is the thing,” Chase says. “I can’t just take your word for it. I’m pretty sure the last people who saw my brother alive all work at this shit club. I want us all to have a conversation. On record. And I’ll leave your girlfriend alone. You’ve got forty-eight hours.”

“They’re not in town.”

“Well I guess they better get back in town, or I’ll have the feds crawling all over this fixer business bullshit of yours. I’m sure you have a lot of other bodies buried that you don’t want turning up.”

I feel woozy.

I underestimated this psycho.

He hasn’t let up his chokehold on me since he grabbed me.

And I’m starting to lose consciousness.

I think about all sorts of things before I hit the office floor. First, I pray that nothing happens to Cutter. Second, I hope that the screen on my phone doesn’t shatter. It’s brand new. And third, I hope that Camden had a safe flight.

I miss him.