His Every Desire

"For everything," she swiped away a few drops on her cheeks. "I’m sorry for all of it."

He immediately walked over to her and pulled her up onto her feet.

"This isn’t your fault, Tracy,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “John Tice and I have known each other longer than I can even remember. If anything, the fault lies with him. You just happened to be here to witness it."

She let her body sink into his as his muscular arms wrapped around her. Right away, she was enveloped in a warm pocket of air, punctuated by the subtle scent of his cologne. There, in his arms, she felt safe.

The reality of the situation, however, didn’t let them truly enjoy it. Tracy felt, with every second that marched them closer to their fate, like she was going to vomit. She could feel the acid burn of it in the very back of her throat and no amount of water would make it go away.

"I have to go now."

He let go of her, leaned in for one last, passionate kiss and started toward the door. Tracy watched him go and, before she could open her mouth to call him back again, he disappeared into the night.

Only twenty minutes later, Mr. Hayes took his luxury town car and rolled slowly down a winding, gravel driveway to John Tice’s warehouse. The narrow road was lined with trees, making it almost impossible to see around the multiple bends and turns.

When he reached the end, he turned the car around in case a quick escape was necessary.

A wise precaution, Tracy thought, making sure that her own car didn't give her away. Despite her promise to Mr. Hayes, there was no way in hell she was letting him go to this meeting alone.

Mr. Hayes climbed out of the car and walked across the parking lot. It was empty, save for one of the Tice family’s many vehicles: a black SUV with windows as dark as the night sky. Dawn still lingered on the edges of the day, not quite ready to commit fully. The sky was still traced with pink and oranges that would have been beautiful had the situation been different. Tracy carefully followed behind.

He pushed through the front door, which opened on a cavernous expanse of empty space. Near the back, a single light illuminated a long, cherry wood desk. Behind it, John Tice’s familiar face was waiting to greet him. Tracy could see it all through the crack in the door. She had made sure it didn't shut fully behind Mr. Hayes so she could see what was going on inside. Very carefully, she tucked herself behind an air conditioning unit, making sure that she could see what was going on inside but that she remained hidden.

Tice didn’t even bother getting up from his high-backed chair.

"Nice to see you again, Paul." John Tice's calm voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

"Save your bullshit pleasantries." Mr. Hayes slammed his hands down on the table, rattling the various knick-knacks that lined its edge. "Why have you been watching us?"

“Did you bring your whore? Or did you come alone as I asked?” John asked in a pleasant tone. It made Tracy's blood cold.

“I did as you asked. I'm here alone.”

“Good. Then we can do business like reasonable men.” Tice paused and eyed Mr. Hayes in a reserved manner. "I’m going to need you to sell that restaurant to me, effective immediately."

"Give me one good reason." Mr. Hayes stood back, looking completely calm and in control.

John raised his right eyebrow and continued, "Don’t try and act like a big-shot with me, Paul. You’re dancing with the big boys now and I’m not so sure that you realize just what you’re getting yourself and that bitch girlfriend of yours, into."

"Enlighten me," Mr. Hayes said through gritted teeth.

"Ha," John laughed. "I don’t have the time, or the inclination to tell you a damn thing. But I will tell you this: most of the officials within fifty miles of here are sitting happy right under my thumb. You... can’t... touch me," he said slowly.

"I don’t care if you ate bagels with the fucking Pope this morning. You’re not getting that restaurant, no matter who you think is on your side. Not everybody is a corrupt windbag like you, John. You can’t have them all up your sleeve."

The old man looked as if Hayes’ comment actually hurt his feelings.

"Now, Paul," he said. "I didn’t think that I would have to remind you about everything that I've done for you and your company."

John leaned back in his chair and it squealed loudly beneath him. The abrasive sound echoed through the nearly-empty warehouse. Mr. Hayes didn't say a word, instead just waiting for Tice to do all the talking.

"Well, I feel like you need to be reminded of something... maybe how to pick your battles?" Tice said after a moment.

Mr. Hayes spread his fingers out over the cold wood. "What are you implying, sir?"

The last word dripped with disdain.

John Tice finally rose up from his chair and leaned onto the desk, mimicking Mr. Hayes’ position.