“WILLIAMSON SAYS he can’t afford the entry fee for next weekend’s game and is wondering if you’ll consider allowing him to pay for it with one of your more … alternative … payment options.” Kason’s voice comes through the phone in my hand while I take a long drag from my cigarette.
“Tell Mayor Williamson if he can’t afford the charge to walk through my doors, he sure as shit shouldn’t be sitting down at one of my poker tables.” The only time I accept any alternative forms of payment is when they can’t reimburse me for the “favor” I’ve done them, or they lose against the house. They show up to these poker nights reeking of unchecked masculinity and ego, but when they inevitably lose, they come crawling to me for a fucking loan or payment plan. It’s embarrassing. “He’s been playing at my table for almost two years now, he’s not new to this game. My rules haven’t changed. It’s not my problem he spends his extra cash on whores and fucking cocaine.”
I didn’t always host these poker games, but two years ago I had a game at my house with a couple guys I knew. While it seemed like a casual gathering, the money was anything but. There were enough bills on the table to buy a luxury vehicle. One of the guys invited was the son of a British ambassador, and unfortunately for him, he wasn’t wise enough to stop playing when he should have. He lost miserably, and when it was time to pay up, he didn’t have all the cash he needed.
Normally, when something like this would happen, I’d just have Rome hold him still while I made him choke on his teeth. This time, on a random whim, I decided to give him an out.
He either needed to find the money in the next hour, or he needed to give me information that was so valuable it exceeded the cost of his debt. He thought for about two minutes before he told me something that would have the British tabloids falling all over themselves.
Since I was young, I’ve been collecting secrets and trading them as if they were currency. People come to me when they need a favor or a loan. As long as they give me information that makes it worth my time and benefits me, I’ll assist them. In return, I use what they tell me to get what I want and need.
The only reason Posie is on this campus right now is because I cashed in a secret I knew about the university president. He was more than willing to ensure Posie’s transfer application was accepted as long as I kept the dirty details of how his mew relationship developed to myself. Unlike Posie, I’m more than capable of keeping my word. If I went around going back on my dealings, my operation would have crumbled in high school, and if that had happened, I wouldn’t have as many powerful people by the balls as I do now.
I don’t need to continue with the poker games. They’re just a fun additional way to grow my ‘client’ base, and as the years have passed, word has spread about them. I have affluent people fly in monthly to attend. At one table, I can have a governor and a Mob boss playing together. The ensured privacy and high bet limit lures people like them to come play. The free booze and entertainment I provide also keep them coming back each month.
“I’ll relay your message to the mayor,” Kason answers, his English accent thick.
His father is the president of some company that controls most of the UK’s petroleum. Kason came to Olympic Sound University like many children of wealthy parents do, but after six years he still doesn’t have a degree. Much like Pax, school isn’t really Kason’s thing. He’d much prefer to work and make his own money. When he’s not managing my poker games and doing other various tasks for me, he’s making money in underground fights. He’s a beast in the ring and has made a name for himself here in Seattle. I appreciate that he’s trying to make something of himself outside of his family.
There was never any question of my taking over my family’s business. I didn’t get a choice like Kason did, and that’s why I’ve put so much effort into my own side-dealings. I want to build something of my own that my family can’t take credit for.
In my peripheral vision, Rome appears with the black hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Just like it has been a lot lately, his attention is glued to the cell phone in his hand. I don’t have the slightest clue who he’s been talking to so much, and even if I felt inclined to ask, he wouldn’t tell me. All I know is whoever it is must be entertaining as hell because my friend has the attention span of a fucking squirrel. I’ve seen him get bored with a girl thirty minutes after meeting her and she’d even sucked his dick in that amount of time.
“Let me know if he causes any problems.” My command to Kason serves as my farewell, and I end the call.
Dropping the cigarette I barely touched to the ground, I put it out with the heel of my well-worn leather boot and turn to Rome.
“Hey. How did the rest of that night go?” he asks, finally looking up from the screen.
Rome knew my plan was to take her to the cemetery three nights ago, but he didn’t know what I’d do once I got her there.
I went into it thinking I was just going to finally have her face what she’d done to me and what she’d taken from me. Posie wasn’t here for the funeral because she was already three thousand miles away, moving on at her new prestigious boarding school. She didn’t have to watch them lower my mother into the ground or watch the way Pax’s entire body shook as people said their empty condolences. She got to skip all of it, but I wanted her—needed her—to experience a sliver of what we went through.
I did everything I’d planned on doing. She sobbed over my mother’s grave while she learned what the consequences of her actions were going to be. Her big honey eyes were full of sorrow as she stared at the headstone I had custom made while she discovered what her new role in my life would be. Now, she’s nothing more than something for me to use in any way I see fit.
Everything I set out to do that night, I accomplished. The blow job, however, was unplanned but not entirely senseless. Having her on her knees with my cock down her throat cemented her new reality in her head. She now knows with certainty that I’m not bluffing.
Posie Davenport is once again mine, and I’ll play with her until she breaks.
I don’t bother giving Rome any details. “It went exactly how I needed it to go. What about you? Did you have any trouble getting into the apartment?”
Fishing in the pocket of his black jeans, he returns the key I’d procured for him. “Please. Give me some credit. I can set up one fucking camera in my sleep.” Compared to the shit he’s usually doing for his dad, the tasks I had Rome do last night were mundane. “It should be set up and attached to the app on your phone.”
Opening my phone screen, I pull up the app I downloaded last week. Right away, live footage of Posie’s empty bedroom shows up. Her bed is unmade and clothes are thrown across the rust-colored bedding like she’d gotten ready in a hurry this morning. I’m sure she did as I doubt she was sleeping well over the weekend.
Over my shoulder, Rome watches the feed. “It’s in the light switch. She’ll have no idea it’s there unless she decides to look too closely at the fake screw in it.”
That’s exactly how I want it. Just as I was able to keep tabs on her while she was in New York, I want to do the same here. Only here, I won’t have people relaying information to me secondhand along with grainy pictures, I’ll be able to get it all myself in real time.
“Does it have audio?” I want to be able to hear every sound she makes while she’s alone, whether it’s her cries of despair or self-induced moans, I want to be privy to all of it.
“Yep.”
“Good.” I shove the device in my pocket and step away from the campus building I’d been loitering around. “Let’s go.”
