Page 42 of Contention

The blonde leans back in his seat as he watches them from across the limo, tipping his beer bottle upwards as he drinks, his throat working. When he’s done, he gestures to the wet bar with his bottle. “Are you going to offer your ‘guest’ a drink, Nick? Your manners are getting lax.”

Calais is unamused, sending a dry look at the far end of the limo. Regardless, he leans forward tomake her a drink.Oh, hell to the no. Kara spurs herself into action. “Stop. No,Ican make my own drink!”

She’s mistrustful of anyone making her a drink.Anyone.

He pauses, then shrugs elegantly, leaning back in his seat, smirking at the man across the way, as if saying, ‘there you have it, I tried’.

Scooting towards the wet bar, Kara grabs a clean glass and shovels some ice into it. Picking up the ginger ale, she pours it in with some nice-looking tequila, telling herself it’s better to stick with what she’s had earlier in the night. The taste likely won’t be pretty, but she doesn’t intend to drink much of it.

She goes to wipe the powdered sugar off the bar, but Blondie says, “Leave it.”

Kara gives him a confused look, her eyebrows furrowing.

As she’s mulling that over, gazing at him, Kara is rudely jerked back into her seat. Ah, the scent of rum, coffee, and sweet tobacco. She inhales before she can stop herself, becausewow, that scent is her guilty pleasure as much as it gives her nightmares.If he were any other man…

Seeing Calais giving her an odd look, she flushes, taking a sip of her awful franken drink that she cobbled together sloppily. “If you were any sort of decent, you’d change your cologne, bastard.”

He sighs before setting his lips in a thin line. The skin around his eyes is tight, displeased. The tropical color of his eyes is dimmed in the low lighting, though no less sharp. His gaze is cutting, and Kara doesn’t think his mood towards her has improved one ounce since their last encounter. “What do you want, Kara? Here to attempt blackmailing me about last time you took a ride in this limo? I already told you; it won’t work.”

Shaking her head, Kara twists to face him fully on their shared seat. She artfully crosses her legs while balancing on the edge. “I’m a little preoccupied with something else. You didn’t let me speak before you went Jekyll & Hyde on me and threatened my career the other night at the club.”

Calais glares at her, eyes flashing brilliantly. He’s wearing navy again, though it almost looks black. His suit coat open, his pale shirt casually unbuttoned a bit at the collar, his undone tie matching his eyes. “You were putting your inquisitive little nose where it didn’t belong.” He lowers his voice so that no one else can hear. “Why else would you sneak into the place that you’re prosecuting?”

Kara opens her mouth to reply, wondering why he’s whispering, when some shrieking and giggling interrupts from the front of the limo. She turns her head to see what the commotion is all about, nervous at what she’s about to witness.

Hurray for debauchery.

The green-eyed gentleman has his teeth in the neck of one of the escorts beside him -Kara assumes they are high-paid escorts, the pair of them, seeing as their clothes look rather pricey- and a hand down the front of her dress. The other escort is complaining, trying to pull his attention back to her. The two women swat at each other playfully before he grabs one and bends her over backwards on his thighs, sneering down at her with sharp white teeth.

She tries to sit up, her eyes going wide, but he holds her in place with a hand at her neck. The escort stills and Kara wonders if the girl is nervous yet. “Hold still,” he says lightly, innocent as a puppy.

He pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulders, pushing the fabric way down. Fake breasts pop into view and he pulls out a little steel vial, pouring more powdered sug-

Oh. It isn’t powdered sugar, Kara, you numpty.She wants to look away from the degradation, but finds herself unable to.

He’s pouring a line over the escort’s skin, then Blondie leans down and snorts it, right off her tit. He wiggles his nose in what may have been cute if it weren’t for the fact that he’d just done a line of cocaine. He grins that Hollywood smile and sticks his tongue out playfully; the girls all over him giggle. At ease once more.

As the girls are laughing, he grabs the one still sitting up and pushes her face down, telling her to clean her friend up with her tongue. The girl pauses before she does as she’s told, running her tongue across the expanse of her counterpart’s breast. Kara wonders if the cocaine is going to make her mouth numb.

Afterwards, the two women of the night clutch at each other, practically writhing in his lap with exaggeration as he leans back with a sigh, sipping from his beer with a suddenly bored expression on his face. Looking like a distant dream.

And now, Kara is sure she recognizes him and she gasps. The memory of her night at theDark Miragecomes to mind.

…By the far stone benches and fire pits, a group of distinguished men stand chatting with animation, a light blonde in the center with the dark slate grey mask on his face. He doesn’t seem to be a server, but he’s certainly not a member….

As she watches, he pulls a small little metal capsule shaped vial out of his pocket, raising it to his nose, inhaling sharply. Cocaine, likely…

…Kara’s defender turns to glance over his shoulder at the group of men. Her aggressor does the same, mouth tightening in a manner that speaks to his sudden nervousness. The distinguished blonde is standing in the group with his arms crossed, looking unamused. He gestures with one hand, a ‘get out of my sight’ motion.

“Did you get that?” Defender of Women says flatly to the man beside Kara.

Angry Boy-Man nods quickly, standing up and vacating the outdoor deck immediately without another glance at Kara…

The memory makes her stomach twist in shock and Kara tries to keep a straight face as she looks at the man sitting across from her, smooshed between two escorts.

Oh, my God. This is the gentleman from the Dark Mirage. The silent masked blonde, standing in the center of men at the far edge of the outdoor area. Snorting cocaine from a vial. Probably a co-owner. And here he is, sitting in front of me.

And I’m part of the prosecution. Against his club. What have I walked into?

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