Chapter Ten

 

 

It’s been one week since the talk I had with Rose, in my driveway, which resulted in her storming off. I still have no clue as to why one minute Rose was kind, polite, and relaxed in my company, and the next she was a mega fucking bitch filled with fire and fury. It’s been playing on my mind and I keep asking myself, why?

The clicking of poker chips again has me focusing. I look at my stack towered high in a neat pile and I feel victorious. Well, I’d feel more victorious if I could win a bloody hand against Tessa. The poker table is green velvet—Professional markings. I’ve always dreamt of playing on something like this. Now it’s a reality because I own it.

Tessa has been bluffing like a pro all night, and when I think I have her figured out and believe she’s not holding a single card of value in her hand, I up the ante.

“Double or nothing.” I’m cocky. I’m in control.

Tessa’s lips stretch wide and her eyes narrow.

One by one the boys fold. Chicken shits. But, not Tessa, she just stares at me like I’m made of glass and she can see right through me.

“Call.” She laughs.

She won’t be laughing when I lay down my three kings. Mr Spade. Mr Club. And Mr Diamond.

“Go on then, Fin. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Wrong move, old lady.”

“We’ll see.” Her smile stretches wider.

I lay the cards against the felt and puff out my chest. I smell victory, sweet, sweet victory.

“That all you got, youngin?”

“Oh, fuck off.” I groan.

That snaky woman throws down a King high flush. Bright red hearts. The only king I don’t have is Mr Heart, but Tessa does. Along with his bitch wife Queen. His son Jack. And Jack’s piss weak brothers, ten and nine. My mouth drops open. I’m staggered by her lucky streak. Tessa scoops up the pot with a wicked cackle.

How does she do it?

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but that’s me done for the night. Tess has us raked over the barrel. Hope you enjoyed the ass whopping, Rance, Tardo, Blocker and what about you, Sailor?”

They all groan.

“That’s what I thought.” I stand. “I hope you enjoyed playing with my money, Tess. Something tells me you wouldn’t have been so Gung-ho without it.”

She laughs in response.

“Glad you’re finding it funny, Tess.”

“Oh, I am. Nice doing business with you, boys.”

“Card shark.” Rance huffs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you my secrets,” Tessa says.

“Whatever.” Blocker shakes his head.

“Night all.” I’ve had enough.

Turning in for the evening has my mind racing. As I lie down on my bed every thought seems to be worse than the last, but none more so than the fact the Hortons are my new neighbours. What are the odds of something like this happening? One billion to one? Even more unlikely is the fact the mystery woman, the one I watch undress from my window at night, turns out to be the same one who saved my hide from a burning wreckage … she’s also the spawn of the devil himself … Horton. Prick.

I climb off my bed and walk straight for the blind. I need to see her. I don’t hesitate to pull the cord.

Rose stands without a single piece of clothing covering an inch of her skin, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight. She’s a goddess, and in my mind I’ve created a world where Rose waits for me like this in the hopes I’m watching her … drinking her in. I enjoy the rush this thought provides.

“Show me, baby. Turn around and show me all of you.” I groan as she moves freely, her breasts bouncing only slightly as her hands shift to the back of her neck.

My heart’s racing. My boxers tent from the strain of my erection. What I wouldn’t give to run my tongue down Rose’s neck.

A shadow is cast behind her. She tips her chin. The shadow grows larger. She’s not alone. And when she turns her head back over her shoulder, I see a suited man closing in from behind.

“Motherfucker.” I growl. “Why does he have to be there?”

I close the blind with speed.

I march toward the shower.

Fuck this day.

Running my fingers through Roxie’s hair, I hate that I haven’t seen Rose in person for the entirety of this last week, yet I’ve enjoyed watching her undress for me every night through her window. I know I’m invading her privacy, but I’m addicted to everything Rose. The way in which she moves. Her gentle and seductive undressing methods. Everything about her.

I’m extra edgy this morning because last night was the first time her male suitor returned to the bedroom.

Why am I so consumed with this woman? I’ve all the money in the world and yet I pine for the touch of her skin.

Taking another slurp of hot coffee, I fiddle with the cufflinks at my wrists. Who would’ve thought I’d be wearing a suit? Not me. But, when Banter finally called to offer me the meeting he said could be arranged, I knew I needed to buy a suit.

The doorbell chimes, and I throw back the dregs of my drink before straightening and then tightening my tie. I immediately experience a suffocating vice-like grip around my neck. I fucking hate ties. But if Alan has to wear one every day to school, I best suck it up myself.

One quick glance in the oval mirror situated in the entryway has me tapping at either side of my face with an open palm. “You can do this, Tank.”

Knock. Knock.

He too is fiddling with his tie when I come to answer the door.

“Mr Crossley, you clean up well.” His silver slick locks and cleanly shaven face has Mr Banter looking a million dollars. He’s much different to the man who was casually dressed and went out of his way to introduce himself as the neighbour on the other side of me.

“Tank. I’d rather be called, Tank.”

“We can’t be referring to you as Tank at this meeting.” He shrugs before his arm crosses his chest and brushes along his lapel, as if he’s trying to remove lint.

“Finlay.”

“Yes. Finlay is much better. Don’t be nervous, son. You have everything you need to secure this land and building you so desperately wish to acquire. I’m glad we got to discussing it and I’m glad I can help you try and secure it for yourself. I’m still baffled as to why this land is what you’ve set your sights on, though. There are many other blocks much better closer to town.”

“It’s what I want.” I’m nervous. I’ve always dreamt of working for a motorcycle company. The fact I can own my own brings me uncontrollable jitters. I need this to go well. The chance to have a place that borders both the rich and poor parts of Hoffman is of high importance to me. There must come a time where we have a middle ground—a middle class—in this town.

“Shall we go then, son?”

Why do middle-aged men insist on calling everyone son? It’s annoying.

“Son. We do need to go,” he repeats, waving his hand in front of my eyes, snapping me out of this thought.

“After you.” I indicate for Banter to take the lead, and without hesitation, he does.

A long, black stretched SUV is parked not far from the entry of my house. You can tell it’s an expensive piece of machinery just by the look of it. I take the step up and slide into the back. Mr Banter enters on the opposite side of me, and as soon as he’s in, we begin moving.

“Thank you for helping me with this.”

“What are neighbours for?”

I nod.

“It’s been nice having young fresh blood next door. If you hadn’t noticed most of the places around here house middle-aged men with their families, like myself.” He cocks his head. “I’m surprised someone of your wealth is looking to own a motorcycle company. Not much money in this industry.” He pauses, staring me straight in the eyes. “How did you say you made your money?”

“I didn’t. But it was inheritance.”

“Inheritance.” He says this in a way that tells me he doesn’t believe this to be true at all, but he allows it to drop without further questioning.

“Yes, sir. I know there isn’t a great deal to be made and there isn’t ample profit in what I want to do, but for me this is not so much about making money, and more about staying entertained and out of trouble.”

“Fair enough, son. We all have a business we throw money at for enjoyment. Mine is a massage lodge, just for men. You should come join sometime. Membership is quite expensive, but highly worth it.”

“I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

“Now, tell me, have you had much of a chance to talk to the Hortons who live on the other side of you?”

“Briefly, at the beginning of last week.”

“They are grand friends. His three daughters are polite and well-raised. Delightful angels. Roselette, their eldest, is being courted by my only child, Slade. Between you and me, he was a much sought-after bachelor until Roselette blossomed and took his eye. Charming couple. I’m glad she’ll be there to escort my son throughout his life. She’s beautiful, and a rich man should have a stunning woman on his arm.”

“They’re dating?”

He laughs. “No, son. Engaged to be wed next year. Nobody would have turned down the diamond and life he has offered her. Not even a Horton. We’ve much more wealth than them. She’d be stupid not to marry into our money.”

Everything I thought I liked about Mr Banter when I met him has gone out the window. This man is a true blue, up-himself arsehole. No woman should be a man’s bloody escort. Rose isn’t a hooker. Lucky? Pfft! More like unlucky. Bet his son is a fucking tosser like him. My fists clench at my sides. What is it with these people and wealth? Don’t they know money doesn’t buy any of the important things in life? I hear Tessa’s voice when I think this. She used to tell me this all the time when I was growing up.

We travel farther into the upper side of Hoffman, far beyond what I’ve scoped out to date. I’ve never ventured into these parts, for obvious reasons. I’m scum and these residents who live here are all diamonds and gold encrusted everything. It’s best to keep your nose in business where it belongs. When we reach the top of a mountain range we turn into a laneway.

“This is the most prestigious country club there is, Mr Crossley. Men are to always be dressed in formal black tie, and the ladies adorned in the finest dresses and apparel. Thank yourself lucky you’re getting a pass so early on in your residency. Twelve months is normally the timeframe needed to be a resident of the community before being allowed to even apply for a membership. You did well meeting me.” He slaps my chest and chuckles. “No need to thank me, son.”

I’m not fucking planning to now. Not after what he said about Rose.

“I thought the meeting would be at the property for sale, not here.”

“You thought wrong.” He dabs his finger on the tip of his tongue and proceeds to wipe along each eyebrow. “You must always look your best. Next time, Finlay, make sure you don’t have a five o’clock shadow. Either a groomed goatee or clean shaven. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes. Sir. Be respectful to your elders, Finlay.”

“Yes, sir.” I almost vomit in my mouth from this pretentious bullshit.

We step out of the car and I study the building in front of me. What the fuck is this place? A castle. It sure looks like it to me. Stone exterior. High points. Grand in size.

Everything is gold, brass or silver on the inside. It screams wealth from whatever angle you shift your eyes. To say I’m uncomfortable is an understatement.

Led through a room as spacious as a football stadium, I halt. So many people are trekking through the same space as us. Banter seems adamant in stopping to shake the hand of every person who comes our way. He chuckles, the fakest sound one can manage, and his narrowed eyes accompanied by his clenched jaw and hard stance display his dislike of these people, but they are oblivious to these signs. Instead, they stand seemingly in awe of him, hanging off every witty comment passing through his lips. I’m starting to think this country club is a parallel universe, and I’ve been beamed here by aliens. I smile and nod slightly when introduced as the new young blood of Hoffman, even though it makes me feel dirty.

When we start forwards, Banter leans in and whispers, “That one is a banker. He’s loathed by everyone here. Son, take this knowledge as my first lesson for you––if you need something done under the table, you know, illegal work, Cullum Gallaway is the man you will need to go to. Keep your enemies closer than your friends and you’ll do just fine.” Banter follows this with a cocky half-laugh, and I can’t stand the sound of it as much as I can’t stand him. I feel even dirtier than I did five seconds ago.

We exit the room through a wide opening, and Banter leans in. “Quite the ballroom, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” I reply, wondering who needs a room so large for the sole purpose of dancing?

“This way, Finlay.” His palm faces upwards as he gestures to another opening on his right. I read into this as an indication to take the lead and step around him. He clears his throat. “A true new blood would never take the lead over a more established member.” His eyebrows stretch high on his forehead.

My mouth makes a solid circular shape even though no sound ever passes my lips.

“At least you’re a good listener.” He smirks as he pushes in front of me.

A long polished dark oak table sits in the centre of the room. High-backed leather seats surround it, and in three of these seats sit men decked out in dark suits.

“Maxwell, thank you for meeting with us. Graham, Leroy …” Banter shifts his body in the direction of each of these suited men and offers full eye contact with each address. “Please let me introduce to you to Mr Finlay Crossley. New blood and my new neighbour.”

“Finlay,” they say in unison, standing.

“Don’t just stand there, son. Be polite and offer your hand in welcoming.”

I’m not sure why I didn’t do this in the first place. Maybe it’s the fact I’m in shock. This place is foreign to me. These people and the way they conduct themselves is foreign to me.

“Yes.”

He shoots me an angered glare.

“Yes, sir.” I’m hesitant to correct myself. “Of course. Where are my manners?” I try a sophisticated laugh, but upon hearing myself, I have the urge to cut my own tongue from my mouth.

Banter grins. What a power-hungry, uppity shit-for-bricks is Banter.

The suits’ grips are hard—like they are all competing for a strong-man competition and are desperate to win—when they take my hand.

“You’re a big fellow,” the man Banter referred to as Maxwell says before tapping my upper arm.

I don’t grace him with a reply, just a grin.

We talk business, and we talk business fast. None of these men are genuinely polite people. It’s all a well-rehearsed show for each other’s company, and every time they afford me eye contact, I can see green dollar signs tattooed on their eyeballs.

We come to a settlement swiftly, and I’m not sure why I expect there to be some type of general “getting to know you” conversation following, but I do. It doesn’t happen. Instead, Maxwell shoots upright, as if his pants caught ablaze, and says, “Graham will sort the formalities out. The land and building are yours, Mr Crossley.”

The four of them laugh. They laugh as people do when they are part of a joke you aren’t privy to.

“I’d say this is a good deal,” Banter says.

“Agreed.” Maxwell is a serious type. His face is hard-pressed and well maintained, yet cold. “Anyway. Please refrain from contacting me, Mr Crossley. You will deal with Graham from here on out.” With this, he strides right past where I’m still seated.

Graham and Leroy follow like lost puppy dogs, and when I turn my attention back towards Banter, he is standing like the King of England is leaving the building, straight to attention and with his hands pressed to his sides. What dimension did I step into, really?

“Stay well, George.” Maxwell nods.

“You too, Maxwell,” Banter replies.

And with this, they disappear like vampires at first light.

“You have your wish. The property is all yours. Now, are you hungry, son?” Banter’s perfectly straight and whitened teeth are on full display.

“I’ll probably just leave you be from here. I have—”

“You will dine and mingle. Follow me.”

I find myself in unfamiliar territory by being here, and as much as I’d like to walk away from Banter and this place, I also don’t want anything to blow the deal we just did. This company is my dream. “Sure,” I say.

After retracing our steps back through the ballroom, we turn down two separate long corridors until we stand in front of tall brass doors.

“This is the main dining area. Food here is bellissimo, Finlay. You’ll be more than satisfied with the gastronomical experience.”

“Okay.” What does gastronomical even mean?

Circular tables are covered in stark white table cloths—twenty-seven of them to be exact—each with eight fancily decorated white seats trimmed in gold. I count them in my head whilst standing in wait of Banter, who is having another of those “I actually hate you, but we’re pretending to be great friends due to our need for each other’s services in the near future” greetings. The sooner I can blow out of this joint, the better it will be. I’m up to about at least fifteen faces I’d like the pleasure of bruising with my fists right now.

A pretty girl with long wavy black hair, bright red lipstick, and long dark lashes lead us towards a table near the back of the room. I almost freeze on the spot when I see Rose.

Her head tilts backwards, and she laughs in such an overdramatised way, it doesn’t seem at all like she’s amused—more like she’s maintaining a perfectly trained expression or she’s quite possibly constipated.

“Roselette, you look beautiful, as always.” Banter is an indulgent creep. He eyes Rose in a way that clearly spells out to me he’d love nothing more than to bend her over this table and give her a good pounding himself. It’s sickening.

Rose takes the hands of another lady into hers, cupping them. Her lips move, yet I don’t hear what she says as she lets them go again. Striding the remaining distance towards Banter, Rose softly smiles, and I can’t help turning my attention to the split on the side of the tight red dress she’s wearing and watch as it opens and closes with each step.

Banter holds Rose in a tight embrace and kisses each of her cheeks before he sniffs loudly, smelling her.

“You smell amazing, as always, Rose.”

“Why, thank you, George.”

“Dad. Call me Dad, Rose. You are, after all, about to become my first and only daughter.”

Rose shifts her weight from foot-to-foot. She appears uncomfortable.

This is too much. I want out, like now.

“Dad. Good to see you.” This man is tall and slender, yet broad-shouldered, with blond greased-down hair and light blue eyes. This is Slade, and how I didn’t put the last name and his first name together before has me angry. Slade Banter, the cream of the crop in Hoffman. Every girl wants to bed him and almost every guy wants to be him or at least his friend. A mythical creature brought into discussion on a regular basis in the poorer suburbs is now standing in front of me with his wide smile and slick swagger. I hate him.

“Son. How is the market today?”

“Sell out your BMP shares and buy into Capital City, Father. This is my tip of the day.”

“Done.” Banter eyes his son with the word “pride” bouncing from each of his polished teeth.

“And you are?” Slade stares me down.

Movie-star good looks don’t impress me. I’m not into guys, and I don’t befriend arseholes.

“This is Finlay Crossley. He’s nobody important to our circle or anyone’s circle, darling.” The way in which Rose says this is very unimpressive. She may as well light me up, place me on someone’s porch, and watch them stamp me out—nothing more than a flaming bag of shit. She looks at me as poorly as she spoke of me.

Why is she being such a bitch? She’s nothing like the Rose I met at my accident, or the one who returned my lotto ticket to me in the hospital. Who is this woman and what has she done with Rose?

“Rose. Nice to run into you again.” Keep your enemies closer is what Banter said earlier. I can play this game. I’ll be your frenemy.

“Roselette. My name is pronounced Roselette, thank you. Not Rose.”

“What kind of name is Roselette?” I’m quick to counter. I know it’s rude to say such a thing, but it flies off my tongue without thought.

“Mine.” Her lips purse.

“Sounds strange to me, really.”

“Now, now. We’re in the presence of a lady, Mr Crossley. Watch your manners.” Slade has a backbone. Bet he couldn’t make it through one round of having that girlish face of his punched, I’m sure. He’s not boxing material.

“Lady? Really? Tell me, do all the ladies in this part of town walk around with a massive stick permanently fixed up their arses?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Mr Banter’s face turns the shade of a ripened tomato.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m sorry, no, I’m joking.” I take a try at this fake laughter once more. It’s not as hard as you might think to perfect, because I manage to master it twice in a short span of time. “Rose and I met a few months back. Just a little bit of humorous banter. She knows I’m just taking the mickey out of her, hey, Rose?” I know she won’t agree, but I give it a shot. I’ve pushed this too far.

“Yes.” She speaks softly. And there’s a glimpse of the Rose I thought she was. A kind sparkle in her eye. A softening in her expression. Is she displaying a look of guilt? I can’t be sure.

“No harm done here, fellows. I’ll refrain from such humour if it makes you uncomfortable.” Speaking with a pinched nose and sounding like an uppity git isn’t hard to master either. I accomplish such an achievement on my first try.

Banter chuckles a forced sound. They might have money, but they have no real intelligence.

“Are you okay, Roselette? He’s not hurt your—”

“Yes, I’m fine, darling.” She tucks her hand around Slade’s waist and places her other hand to his chest. “As Finlay said, it’s merely a little humour on our part. Something you’ll soon learn about Mr Crossley is he has a dry wit. It’s all in fun.”

“When did you say you two met then?” Slade cocks his head.

“A few months ago at an event. I can’t remember which one.” Rose half-smiles.

Why did she lie just now? Why doesn’t she just say she rescued me from a burning wreckage? I’m shocked, and as I look at Rose, her eyes are wide and her gaze appears worrisome … or is it pleading? Does she want me to agree to this lie? I take a moment to breathe and try to figure out what I should do. Her gaze only becomes more intense.

I clear my throat. “Let me help you out, shall I, Rose? It was a fundraiser for the fire department, if my memory serves me correctly.” Where the fuck did that just come from?

Rose smiles briefly. If I were to blink I’m sure I would have missed it. Then her eyes narrow, and she glares at me. “Sure. Yes. This was the event.”

“They were talking about fires and burning wreckages … We hit it off with our mutual discussion on the bravery it takes for a person to go running towards a burning house or wreckage, instead of away from it.”

She forces a fake laugh. “It was a great event, if my memory serves me correctly. Finlay, please tell me if I’m wrong, but I also believe we learnt on this day about how one would have to be a Neanderthal to go running toward a burning wreckage”—she pauses—“or building”—she tenses her jaw—“if he isn’t trained to do such a thing. Citizens with little know-how or sensibility.”

She is a piece of work.

I exaggerate the clearing of my throat. “I said to dear Rose here—”

“Roselette.”

“I was explaining to Rose”—I make sure to place great emphasis on my chosen name for her—“I believe a person would only do this if there was a very good reason for doing so. Their child or their loving wife still trapped inside, for instance. Or, in some cases, very important documents that could change their entire life.”

“We agreed to disagree.” She’s trying to shut the conversation down. She wants the lie to be over. But why? And why is she bringing this up in such a manner? Is she mad at me about that day? I’d like to find out.

“Really? I thought we were both on the affirmative.”

Slade bounces his head between the two of us as we take frosty digs at one another.

“I must freshen up. Please excuse me.” Rose pinches her lips tight together. She’s mad at me. The question is, why?

“Of course.” My head is spinning. What just happened?

“You have my permission to freshen up, Roselette,” Slade says.

“Thank you, darling.” Rose shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other before turning and making her way from the table with small, quick steps. I keep my eyes fixed on the back of her head, and I’m not disappointed when she glances over her shoulder in my direction. I offer her a smile and a gingerly wave.

Rose just turns away.

This afternoon may not be as hellish as I imagined it to be. I don’t know what it is, but disagreeing with Rose like that fucking confused the shit out of me, but it also satisfied me. She has a temper, and I’m attracted to a woman with some spunk and some fire in her belly.

Looks like my burning utility won’t be the only time Rose and I play with fire.