The man on the other end of the line goes quiet.
“Oh, don’t be shy now, Baxter. Where’s your sense of adventure? Tell me about how much you like happy endings.” It may be wrong, but I enjoy taunting him. It’s easy to put weak men on their knees.
Then again, a good strong man wouldn’t be in the position he’s in now. They wouldn’t need to force a woman to do anything.
“W-what do you want?”
A tendril of his fear curls through the phone, and I grin.
“I just want to tell you a fairy tale. I can’t recall all of it, but that’s okay. I think you’ll still get the gist. It goes something like this. Blah, blah, blah ... and blah, blah, blah ... andpoof, Baxter ends up locked in a cage fordays,and he’s wondering if someone’s going to let him out before he starves to death.”
I take another hit while he breathes heavily over the line, at a loss for words.
“Now, the real question here, Baxter, is whether or not that fairy tale has ahappy ending.Because I hear that you think you’re entitled to one, and I just don’t know if that’s how this story ends. You wanna roll the dice with me and we can find out? Because I’m more than willing to put it to the test so we can know for sure.”
There’s a scraping noise from his end of the call, and several beats of silence before he speaks. “I ... I made a mistake. I ... It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right. It won’t happen again because you’ve been blackballed, Baxter.”
“But—”
“Shut yourgoddamned mouthand listen.” When he doesn’t reply, I smile. “That’s a good Baxter. Damn, it sounds like I’m talking to a dog. Which makes perfect sense, considering that’s all you are. A fuckingmuttwho will beputdownif you ever threaten another woman for the rest of your godforsaken life. You understand me,Baxter?”
He chokes and then answers, “Yes. I understand.”
“Good boy, Baxter,” I say, crooning to him like he is the mutt I just called him. Then I change my tone to steel. “Now, you have a lovely fucking evening, and just remember, I’m watching you. If you take one wrong step, we’ll find out exactly how that story ends. And I’m pretty fucking sure you aren’t going to like it.”
I hang up the phone.Entitled piece of shit.I could fucking kill him. I take another drag, letting the weed soothe the anger bubbling inside me.
You handled it. Don’t let emotion take over.
But the thought of Taylor’s fear, even if it only lasted a few minutes, can’t be so easily cowed. My fingers curl around the phone, and rage burns through my system.
I’m done with this life. Done with men who think they can take whatever they want. Done with putting girls in situations where they end up calling me, terrified out of their minds. I’m fuckingdone.
I let loose, flinging the phone as hard as I can against the opposite wall, but the shattering plastic does nothing to calm my temper.
“I have to get out of here.” I shove out of my chair, joint in hand, as I stalk toward my bedroom to change.
Fuck men. Fuck Moses. Fuck everything.
I’m going to the club to see Desiree and handle shit myself. Just like I always do.
Eight
Magnolia
When the car drops me off in front of the sprawling plantation house, I barely notice the massive trees with moss dangling from their limbs over the banks of the bayou. I’m not here to be filled with wonder and amazement like the new members who have been added to the roster since I bowed out of managing the club.
Then again, no one was surprised when I stepped aside a few years ago when my well-ordered life went through a proverbial wood chipper. Nothing is the same as it used to be, especially not me.
The sense of disquiet that’s been haunting me all day chases me up the grand steps of the antebellum mansion. The doorman smiles beneath his mask when he sees me.
“Ms. Maison. It’s a pleasure to see you this evening.”
“Thank you, Gerard.”
“Do you need a mask?” he asks, his gaze lingering on my face.