Page 6 of Tastes Like Misery

Either way, he didn’t stop me, so I kept on with my made-up story, “I was all alone at the bar and probably had a little too much to drink. This fine gentleman caught me when I stumbled. I looked up into his eyes and it was like the stars shone brighter in the sky and the angels were singing right in my ear. Nothing like I’d ever felt towards Billy Joe. That’s my ex-fiancé. We got to talking, and he invited me up to his room since he was too worried about me being alone in my condition. That booze must have gotten to my head because one thing led to another and here I am, waking up naked with a room full of people questioning me.”

“Miss?”

“Vivian. Vivian Parker,” I supplied, feeling no reason to give a fake name. If he were to call the police, it would just be worse for me.

“Do you know where this fine gentleman could have disappeared to?” the British man asked gently. It seemed my story warmed his cold little heart.

“Why, no I don’t. I hope he just ran out to get us a little something to eat. After an experience like that, the man wouldn’t just disappear on me, would he?”

“Miss Parker, is anything of yours missing? It doesn’t happen in my establishment, but I have heard of terrible men targeting vulnerable young women,” he cast his eyes down, unable to meet my gaze.

I made a big show of looking for my things, hopping off the bed with the sheet only on my front, and bending over to show my bare ass to the three men still there. “Oh my! My purse. I swear I dropped it right here with my clothes. It has everything in it!” I dropped to the floor and looked under the bed, “It didn’t roll under here. Do you see it up there?”

Someone cleared their throat, and it took everything in me not to laugh. Mr. British guy became serious, “No, I don’t see it. There is a note here with your name on it.”

I gasped and stood, “A note?” Taking it from his hands, I read it and grinned to myself. Dane had inadvertently left me the perfect note, which left me looking like a perfect angel.

“This person’s behavior is unacceptable,” British guy said when I held it out to him to read it. “It seems you’ve been swindled. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll arrange for a police officer to come to my office? It’s private there and you won’t have to worry about any unwanted attention.”

He and the two security officers stepped out, and I slid into my dress as I planned my next move. Of course, I wouldn’t sit around for the police to arrive. No doubt I had no ID on me, but they could run my fingerprints and find a long record. Over my dead body.

Breaking the heel to one of my shoes, just enough it wouldn’t completely come off and I could fake it, I was thankful they were a knock-off. If they’d been real, I would have cried at the loss. One day, I’d own a real pair of Louboutin stilettos.

With the money tucked safely in my thigh-high stockings, I stiffly walked out, giving the maid a finger wave as we passed her. It was tough work, but I made sure to put all the pressure on the pads of my feet. “Thank you so much, Mr.?”

“Just call me Reginald,” he answered politely. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Parker. I hope we can find this thief and get your belongings back. I feel responsible for it happening on the property I manage. My sincerest apologies.”

I hummed an appreciation as we rode down the elevator. It stopped at a random floor for the security guards to exit before going down again. Reginald didn’t want me to suffer any more embarrassment and felt their attention would do just that. The predictability of stuck-up assholes like him benefited me. By the time the two of us arrived in the lobby, I was ready.

“Oh,” I wobbled and grasped him as I finally allowed my broken stiletto heel to show. “It seems I’ve broken a heel.” He held out his arm for me to hold and positioned himself to give me discreteness, facing himself in the opposite direction of the door to the streets as I’d planned. I pulled both shoes off, dropped them to the floor, and then darted for the door before he knew what happened. The porter didn’t stop me as I whizzed by him, leaving him with a dumbfounded look on his face.

As much as I didn’t want to lose it, I had to ditch my wig as I heard the sounds of shouting, “Stop that woman,” behind me. I practically fell into a shop just around the corner, dropping the wig in the trash right inside the door. The secondhand shop was one I’d passed by many times on my way to different hotels in the area. I knew the racks of clothing would easily hide me from any passerby, and I needed a different outfit. Shoes were at the top of the list since my feet were only in now ruined stockings.

At least Dane left me the money and I could splurge a bit. Between what was left over and what I’d earn at work that night, the rent was covered. Now, to get a whole new outfit and walk to where the valet held the keys to my car. Then back home, where I’d watch the paint peel all night, fending off the local drunks’ advances and drinking myself into oblivion before my shift was over. I wanted to forget about Dane and his little note of, “You were a fun target, baby girl. Too bad I won’t see your sweet pussy again.” I’d been hustled and damn, it sucked.

Chapter 5

Finn

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I didn’t know how much longer I could sit in the scorching sun. I should have been used to it with how many years I lived in Vegas. It made me realize how extremely pampered I’d become with the air-conditioned gym, house, and pretty much everything. Nights were the time I’d walk the streets, hopping clubs and casinos, and the heat rarely stuck around after the sun went down. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d spent the day out in the sun.

An ice-cold beer sounded good, something better than the water to wet my dry throat. I was surprised the ink in my pen hadn’t melted all over my notebook once the sun passed its peak and removed the shade from the bench in the little park. I’d already moved several times chasing the shade, and I was about to give up. This shit could be done another day and Dane could take his late ass out here to sweat for a while.

“What now?” I grumbled to the phone when Ollie called again.

“I’m going to kill that fucker,” Ollie answered, deadly serious.

“I take it Dane finally showed up,” I stated, knowing the answer already. He loudly ranted about the wrongs our friend had committed as I held the phone from my ear. Not a surprise, the list was long, and he’d only been there a short time.

Making another entry in my notebook, I half listened. Finally, when he ran out of steam, I told him, “Calm your tits, Ollie. I’ll finish up here and will be the goddamn babysitter shortly. I’m sure you can keep away from him for a little while longer.”

The problem with those two wasn’t Dane’s lack of respect for anyone, but that they both were too much alike. Ollie may be the schedule kind of guy, but he would throw it all away for cash or ass just as fast as Dane. Both had a hard-on for danger, always needing that next big thrill, and neither one gave a shit about others.

Morals in those two were lacking. I’d given up on being the good guy a long time ago when I entered a world where you had to be big or be eaten. Not that I didn’t have blood on my hands before then, but I tried to be the good guy when I started as a trainer. If my fighter wasn’t winning, I’d be the one to lose my client and take the heat for it, even if they were the ones who refused to listen to what I taught them. They wanted low blows, cheats, and whatever it took to be the champion.

At first, I refused, believing the rules of fighting in the ring were to be respected. It didn’t get me far, so I joined the ranks of trainers who lost their scruples. It was about winning at all costs, and that led me to Dane, taking him to the top.

I could still take that man down, but there was no way he’d ever admit it. He was the star, and I was just the nobody in the background. Such a nobody that I couldn’t land another client after his injury. That’s how that world worked, where I was somebody until he was a nobody, and then it was my fault for not training him properly to have avoided the mistake that ended his career, effectively ending mine. And now here I was, stuck in a little shithole town, baking in the sun, and planning our next big move.

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