Page 62 of Pawn

Her eyes wander around the room, gold makeup on her lids that she doesn’t need, it’s obvious she still feels out of place. The way she’s chewing on her cheek gives her away, the stroke of her thumb against one of her rings.

“King!” A man with a thick greying goatee and matching suit walks toward us.

Harvey.

I know him from my Dad’s meetings in New York and while he’ll help me seal this thing, his partner’s my real target. He’s the last piece to this puzzle, the reason I’m in the highest suite in this Manhattan tower.

“Harvey,” I greet, straightening my tie in the wood-panelled room. It’s one of those rooms that serve no purpose besides sitting around in ugly brown sofas.

“My condolences, Damien.” He shakes my hand with too firm of a grip, a smug look on his wrinkling face. “Your father and your aunt in only a few months apart. I can only imagine the distress you’re feeling. I’m surprised you’re handling business so soon.”

“You know us Kings,” I say, taking our drinks from the waiter, handing one to Jo. Harvey eyes her, Jo’s jaw clenching as tight as the grip around my glass.

“And who is this?” he asks.

“Jo,” she greets with a tight smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” I say. “My entire world, really.” My hand comes around her waist to prove my point before she glances at me with a genuine smile. “Jo’s actually the reason I’m here doing this revitalization project.”

“Ah yes,” Harvey says with a wink. “It’s clear now. Your mother always enjoyed helping the less fortunate.”

Jo’s face tightens, eyes narrowing.

“Is Fredrick around?” I ask, lowering my hand on Jo’s back so I can distract her with a pinch of her soft ass through the fabric of her dress. “I’d love to discuss my plans with him.”

“Straight to business,” Harvey chuckles. “Just like your father. Very well. This way.” With my arm around Jo, I start following him towards a back room but he stalls. “You can leave your … her, in the piano room. I like to keep our endeavours private.”

Jo’s back tenses and so does my jaw. It’s taking everything for me not to smack that goatee off his face but I can’t risk this. Not now. Not this close.

Turning to Jo I start to apologize, but she puts up a hand. “It’s okay,” she says with a small smile. “You go. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Pulling her close to me by her waist, I plant a kiss on her temple, taking in that intoxicating sweet scent. “You know I will.”

“Go get ‘em,” she says, Harvey taking me to where most deals by rich pricks happen. In some closed-off room with other rich pricks.

Two leather sofas sit between a coffee table in front of a large fireplace. More wood-panelling on the walls, the city lights twinkling below. Fredrick is already comfortable on one of the sofas, wiping his nose as I make my way over.

My eyes land on the mirrored tray on the table, the look in Freddy’s eyes reminding me a lot of Isaac’s. That also reminds me I don’t have to play by my father’s rules. This should be easier than I thought.

“Gentlemen?” Reaching into my blazer pocket, I take long strides towards them as I pull out my secret weapon.

Grade A Columbian.

“Uh, Damien?” Harvey starts to protest, his eyes on the bag between my fingers but this isn’t for him.

“Let’s cut the bullshit,” I say, sitting on the sofa next to Fredrick. Harvey sits in a spot across from us as I tap out some lines like I’m with Isaac on a Friday night. “The sooner we can get high as fuck, the quicker this pitch will go and we can all get to the money.”

Harvey starts to protest again but Fredrick cuts him off, “It’s nice to have some young blood in our circles.” Scooting to the edge of his seat, his eyes stay focused on the six lines in front of us.

Let’s party Freddy.

It takes me no time to explain my plans for The Grove while I’m on this shit. Yeah, my heart races but so does my mind and the sooner Freddy gives me a yes, the quicker I can get back to Jo and out of this place that I know is driving her crazy.

The more Fred blows through my stash, pun intended, the more excited he is about my plans. Harvey has no idea what the fuck is happening but something tells me this isn’t the first time his business partner made deals over a pile of coke. Bet he didn’t expect it to be with this eighteen-year-old.

“King,” Fredrick starts, finally acknowledging me like a man, his nose wiggling from side to side like a fucking chipmunk. “This isn’t usual Carson business but he’ll like it. Let Harvey and I have a chat with him and we’ll get him to sign off during the week.”

Sniiifff!

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