Grumpy Boss

Millie barked a laugh from the back seat. “Damn right,” she said.

I glared at her then back to Judith. “You don’t seem so pleasant yourself.”

“Misery loves company,” she said, squinting ahead. “Alright, here’s the deal. I’ll drop you at your hotel, then you’re on your own. If Fluke’s going to see you, it’ll be tomorrow. Be available, just in case, but don’t get your hopes up. Like I said, she’s still pissed, whatever happened.”

I leaned back and crossed my arms, staring out the windshield as Judith continued to drive like she was trying to win a NASCAR race. She wouldn’t be any help to me, so I decided not to press her. Besides, Fluke would see me, even if she was mad right now. I was one of her few friends, and she couldn’t afford to lose me.

We were staying at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills. Flake was staying nearby, at the Mondrian in West Hollywood. Judith practically threw us out onto the curb then sped off, her tires kicking up rubber into the air as she sped off and flew into traffic, honking her horn wildly.

“That woman is insane,” Millie said, shouldering her bag. “Seriously, who drives like that?”

“Lady Fluke knows how to pick them,” I said, then pushed forward inside with Millie on my heels.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, staying close. “If Fluke won’t see us, we’re kind of screwed.”

“Alfie’s kind of screwed,” I said through clenched teeth. “But she’ll see me.”

“Judith didn’t seem so sure.”

“Judith is new and doesn’t know a damn thing,” I said, and stopped, looking around at the marble floor and absurd opulence. Hollywood was as rich as it was tacky. Men lunged nearby in deep chairs wearing tuxedos that cost as much as a car and women lingered in groups talking quietly amongst themselves as light glittered off their jewels. All fake, all smoke and mirrors. That was Hollywood. I didn’t know why Fluke was here, but I couldn’t wait to leave.

Millie stood next to me, close enough to touch shoulders. “How many rooms did you get?” she asked almost casually.

I glanced at her and tried to hide my smile. “One,” I said.

“Of course.” She looked down at the ground and sighed. “You’re on the couch.”

“We’ll see about that.” I strode off toward the front desk, and I heard Millie grumbling behind me.

* * *

The line outside Club Questions stretched around the block. Millie gaped at all the people, girls in their tight, short dresses, men in their best jeans and button downs, and hurried to keep up with me as I walked past them all. We got more than a few dirty looks, but fuck them. I was in my best suit, black Armani, fit me like a dream, and Millie wore a simple cocktail dress, a little too formal for a normal club, but would work in this town.

“What are you doing?” she asked, grabbing at my elbow.

“We’re skipping the line,” I said. “I know the owner.”

“I thought we were having dinner,” she said, sounding annoyed. Earlier, I’d convinced her to come out with me by dangling a good meal in front of her. I neglected to tell her that our table was in a very loud, and very packed club, and there was actually no food, only bottle service.

“We’re working,” I said as we approached the door man. He was a big guy with a shaved head and a glare that would melt ice. “My name’s Rees. I’m on the list.”

He grunted and swiped at a tablet—then seemed surprised. “Okay, Mr. Court, right this way.” He opened the rope for us and a few people up front groaned.

I ignored them as we headed inside. Millie hurried after me, and we went from the relative calm of the sidewalk, to the pulse-pounding noise of a very crowded and very loud club.

“What the hell are we doing here?” Millie yelled into my ear. “Shouldn’t we be preparing for Lady Fluke?”

“There’s someone I want to meet with,” I said, leaning back to press my lips practically against her neck. She shivered under my touch, and I wanted to move up toward her chin and her mouth. “He’s an investor. Owns this place. Old friend.”

“Is that how you’re on the list?” she asked, frowning.

“I called ahead,” I said, then took her hand. “Come on, stay close.”

We waded through the crowd. Fluke was going to try and push me off, which was fine for one night at least. She wasn’t the only person with money in this town, and I wasn’t going to waste this trip if she decided not to meet with us.

Loud, drunk girls traveled in packs, and louder, drunker men hit on them with the tact of a starving tiger. It wasn’t my kind of place: the bar was packed three-deep and there were few open tables. Everything was tacky, bright, glowing, and loud, but the drinks were flowing, and I could practically see how much money passed through this place on a good night. The lights pulsed with the music, a strange blinking harmony and Millie looked like she’d rather be anywhere but this club, and I couldn’t blame her.