Blue Room Confidentials: Vol. 3 Read online

  And Gloria Tannenbaum is somehow tied into all of this! And so, by virtue of her inheritance, is Staci...

  I gulp. This is more than just some brothel shenanigans, I think. More than just a blackmail scheme. Gloria Tannenbaum has tied the Tannenbaum family – and the Blue Room – to some of the most dangerous people on the entire planet. Our fortunes are inextricably linked to people who wouldn't hesitate to shoot you on sight just for being in the wrong place at the same time.

  I don't trust Terrence with this. He's a good kid, but he's a kid nonetheless. He can barely manage running a business, let alone dealing with a criminal element or the kind of machinations that can actually kill you. And this is ten, a hundred, a thousand times more serious than just dealing with invoices and marketing. Even I'll have trouble figuring out what the hell I'm doing.

  Staci is going to need my help, I think. I'm probably the only one she can trust right now.

  It's late, but I know it's an emergency. I call her as I walk down the halls of Blue Tower.

  To my surprise, I hear her phone ringing – familiar as the ring tone is. I follow the sound and then I see Staci and Terrence and Jaymie at the VIP Lounge, three glasses of champagne and a bowl full of potato chips between them. She looks as beautiful, as alluring, as ever. And Jaymie – what a knockout. The sight of the two of them sitting so close together is almost more than I can stand.

  Staci goes to take the phone.

  “Hello?” she says into her phone.

  “I need to talk to you.” I whisper from the door way. “It's urgent.”

  “Tomorrow?” Her voice is clear like a bell.

  “I'm right here,” I say. “Look up.”

  She starts in surprise as she and Terrence and Jaymie see me. They look nervous – furtive, even.

  “Xander?” Staci furrows her brows in mild confusion. “What are you doing here? Actually you're exactly the person I wanted to see just now.”

  “Oh?” I can't help it. Hearing that makes my heart skip a beat. I'll never get over this hangdog affection for Staci – no matter how hard I try.

  “Yes,” says Staci. Then without skipping a beat she rises and looks me straight in the eye. “I want to know all about why you hired Ben as a P.I.”

  Shit.

  Chapter 2

  I stagger back, aghast. Ben? What does Ben have do with anything?

  Ben is gone now. Ben is dead, dead as a doornail. He's out of all our lives – he was from the moment that Roni Taylor shot him. But as Staci stares at me with those limpid, pool-dark eyes of hers, eyes that even now fill me with such a sensual sense of hypnosis that I can barely focus on the words coming out of those luscious cherry-red lips, I find myself taken aback. How much does Staci know about Ben? Has she found out the truth?

  I should have been honest with Staci – right from the beginning. I know that, now, and I regret every moment of my life I've spent being less than 100% totally up front with her. But the Blue Room is a complicated place, a complicated place full of very complicated people, and the number one rule of complications is that you never know whom to trust. Even the person you're closest to can become the one who hurts you the most; the one you most desire can become the one who lets you down. Honesty can get you hurt or killed – hell, honesty can get the person you love hurt or killed.

  And dishonesty can take her away from you forever. That's the truth, too, as sour as it is, sour as gall inside my mouth. If I hadn't lied to Staci about my connection with her grandmother, the illustrious Mrs. Tannenbaum, what would the two of us look like now? Would we have been happier? Would we be together – instead of me watching like an idiot, like a dog pressed up against the window-pane of some family Christmas postcard, as Staci prepares to wed my nephew who is in truth merely a few years younger than me? Would she have trusted me, really, truly, wholly, fully have trusted me. And the question remains: should she have?

  I sigh.

  “Ben?” I ask. “What does Ben have to do with anything?”

  “Look, Xander –,”

  “Isn't he dead? I mean – he's dead, right? So what's the use of talking about him now?”

  “Xander, Ben is....”

  “You should forget about him,” I say bitterly. “Forget about everyone from the old days. You're safe now. You don't have to worry about the Blue Room anymore. Ben worked with Roni to try to kill you. He betrayed your trust when you needed him most. He lied to you and could have gotten you killed. He's old news, Staci. Let the dead be dead.”

  Staci looks over to Jaymie with those wide eyes of hers, blinking slowly through her long, dark lashes. Then she turns to Terrence, and as I see the look of affection and desire that passes over her face I bite my lip to stop the jealousy from flowing out of me like sweat. Then she turns back to me, fixing me with that gaze which always renders me powerless, no matter how hard I try to make it otherwise.

  “That's what we all thought...” she says, slowly, biting her lower lip so softly, so sensually, that it takes my breath away. “Until...”

  “Until what, Staci?” My stomach drops. My organs feel like they've plummeted out of my body. It can't be true – it just can't be...

  I can feel my brows furrowing together in worry. I can feel my cheeks start to burn ripe red. “Staci?”

  “Until...” Staci takes a deep breath. “Until Jaymie brought him back to life.”

  “What?” I can feel myself getting hotter, hear myself shouting. I look ridiculous. Hell, I am ridiculous. “What the hell are you talking about? Brought back to life – he wasn't a fucking ghost, Staci.”

  “Calm down, Xander,” Staci's voice is low and soothing. “He didn't die like we thought he did, okay? It was more complicated that than.”

  “Ben passed out.” Jaymie's voice is strong and powerful as Staci's was soft and sweet. She stands up and strides towards me in confident steps. It strikes me all at once how much older she is than Staci, how much more self-assured. I can feel my cock stirring in my pants at the sight of her. “Sit down, Xander, and we'll explain everything. After Ben passed out, we had to take him to one of the rooms to recover...”

  “What are you talking about?” I spring to my feet, gearing myself up to go room by room to hunt down that maniac if it's the last thing I do. “That killer! He's alive? And you left him unattended, here? I mean, what are you thinking? Do you want to get Staci killed? He could go after her again, any second, any moment, and I will not have Staci harmed.”

  “I think I'm just as equipped to worry about my fiancée as you are,” says Terrence in a dry, tight voice. He is staring at me with a mix of anger and disdain. “Staci's safety is my concern – and hers, not yours.” He shakes out his hair. “In any case, he's completely out cold. I saw to that – while you were doing, well, whatever the hell you were doing. He's in no position to harm Staci. Not now, not ever.”

  “We should at least post some guards outside his room – have someone watch over him – something!”

  “And cause suspicion among the Blue Girls and their patrons?” Terrence scoffs. “Come on, Xander, you know how skittish the clients are here about privacy. Getting guards involved – they'll think something serious is going on and they'll get spooked.” Terrence takes a few steps closer to me, putting his hand on my shoulder and leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Don't worry,” he murmurs softly, “we made sure to put him in the room we can lock from the outside. He's locked in nice and tight. He can't do a thing.”

  “A room you can lock from the outside?” I'm horrified. I had no idea the Blue Room had such a thing.

  “The bouncers set it up without our knowledge,” Terrence says. “Technically, it's totally against every building code there is. But the bouncers got sick of dealing with rowdy or drunk patrons – as you know, it's not like it's done to call the cops here. So they created a little “holding cell” down in the basement they can use to put the drunker guests in while they sleep it off. It's gorgeous, comfy – looks like a hotel suite. Except for the p
art where they can't get out of it.”

  “Good,” I bark, feeling unsure of myself. I wish I had control over what was happening all around me. “When he wakes up, we'll need to question him. How did he survive Roni's shot? And what is he doing here? And what does he want with Staci?”

  “All in good time,” says Terrence. “Don't worry, my man. We'll know exactly when the time comes, won't we?” He takes out his cell phone. He touches a few things on his screen and then the phone is handed over to me.

  “Look.”

  I take it, and to my surprise I behold a grainy black and white video – a security feed – beamed over to Terrence's phone.

  “That's some tech you've got there, Terrence,” I say, squinting to see. A figure is lying in the middle of the hotel suite, looking passed out. I can barely make out his face due to the video quality, but from the size and shape and build of the man, I can tell it's Ben – sleeping off a rough punch to the face or several.

  “Cameras in the Blue Rooms?”

  “A new feature.”

  “If this got out...” We guarantee our guests discretion. Privacy. Exactly the opposite of a camera facing a bed any Blue Girl could get involved with a client in...”

  “It won't get out. And given how much bullshit goes on here, we need it.”

  I sigh as Terrence looks expectantly at me, like a puppy waiting to be given a treat.

  “Brilliant,” I pat Terrence's shoulder. “Great idea.”

  “You think so?” There's a boyish glee to his smile. “Really?”

  “As long as none of the patrons ever find out,” I say. “It's probably a good idea to have video surveillance of the rooms. After what happened to Rita – and to Roz...”

  “I can't take all the credit,” grins Terrence. “It was Danny who came up with the idea – tough he can't be here right now. He's got some contacts who used to work in anti-pap stuff, you know. Trying to be extra secure around musicians so TMZ or Perez Hilton or whoever didn't get access to their stuff. Danny's the one who pioneered the idea of getting a security overhaul. And that means putting cameras in all the rooms – cameras the guests will never see. Keeps things safe.”

  I hate to admit it, but I'm proud of Terrence. Despite my palpable, powerful feelings of envy – I don't know if I'll ever get over her, especially watching Terrence dangle her in front of me by virtue of his position in her family – I still see him as something of a kid brother. I'm pleasantly surprised when he does something other than get drunk and screw up. Like I had a good influence on him. Like I can actually change someone, something, in this lie-infested place, for the better.

  “So,” I say, quickly changing the subject before Terrence gets wind of the fact that I'm actually pleased with him. “What's all this about Ben coming back to life?” I look Staci and Jaymie up and down as they sit on either side of the plush lounge armchair: too gorgeous for words. The two of them, together, seem to highlight one another's looks, complementing one another's strengths. Each makes the other even more hauntingly beautiful, as Jaymie's bold, brash, powerful look melds seamlessly with Staci's angelic innocence.

  “I see you all know before me about this particularly exciting development,” I say.

  “Oh, Xander,” Staci starts to coo. “It's not like that. We thought...”

  “Well,” Terrence cuts her off. “Here's the deal, Xander. We didn't tell you because we thought you already knew. Which is to say – what we heard from Jaymie is that you hired Ben to work for you, just like you did Rita, and...”

  “Bullshit!” I cry, overcome with anger. “There's no way I'd have hired him to kill Staci. You know, you all know, how I feel about her...”

  I know I've said too much, revealed too much about the turmoil and storm stirring within my breast. But what other choice do I have? I love Staci – wildly, unashamedly – and there's no point in pretending otherwise, even if it would preserve everybody's dignity so to do. Everybody's dignity, but not my heart.

  “No!” Terrence and Jaymie cry out in unison. “You don't understand.”

  “Not to kill Staci, obviously,” says Terrence, half-shrugging as he speaks. “But – you know – like Rita.” Terrence looks me up and down suspiciously, his eyebrows furrowing close together. “Believe me, uncle of mine.” He gets close – uncomfortably close – to me, staring me down with a dark and gleaming expression. “If you had anything whatsoever to do with hurting Staci, you wouldn't be standing here right now. I wouldn't let that happen in a million years. You'd be dead to me – and to the rest of the world, too, for that matter.”

  I almost gulp, listening to him. Neither Terrence nor Danny knows about my role in the Tannenbaum plot, or about my deal with Gloria Tannenbaum: the thing I regret most in the world. And I hope to keep it that way. Only Staci knows what I did – a knowledge that cost me her love.

  Staci walks up to Terrence, softly putting her hand on his arm, stroking it, caressing it. Her voice is low and delicate. “Come on, Terrence,” she whispers. “That would be pretty crazy, wouldn't it? Xander would never, ever do that.”

  My heart freezes for just a second. Staci is backing me up – despite everything she knows about me and Gloria Tannenbaum. Does that mean – can it mean – does she forgive me for everything?

  Terrence backs off a little, giving an uncomfortable laugh. “That sure would be crazy,” he says. “Believe me, I know how he – uh – cares about you. He'd never hurt you in a million years. Not to mention, if he did, he'd have me to deal with.”

  I have to laugh, too. “I know,” I say. “Crazy, right? Harming Staci – harming, any woman I love...”

  Shit.

  I hadn't meant to say the L-word. It just slipped out. I feel my cheeks burning bright red. Everyone knows I love Staci. But I hate admitting it out loud, like this, now that she's chosen somebody else. I feel like I should move on, already. But I can't, not as long as she's near...

  “There's no way I could hurt somebody I care for the way I care for Staci,” I say slowly, carefully. “Any man who could do that is no man at all.”

  “Whoo,” Jaymie is smiling wryly, a sly gleam in her eye. “How romantic.” Then she smiles at me – a wide and curious beam, as if she's truly happy to hear me say that.

  I catch her eye and cock my head in confusion. What are you so happy about?

  I still haven't figured Jaymie out. Not her, not her secrets, not why she looks so much – so painfully much – like Marina.

  “It's good to hear some men like you are out in the world,” says Jaymie lightly. As if she'd heard my thoughts aloud. “That's what I wish I could hear more of from you men. You see, years before I began my, ahem, current profession – becoming the amazing private investigator you see before you (not to mention my stint in the world's oldest profession), I worked at a domestic violence shelter. And let me tell you, nothing is as painful as seeing the same thing happen before your eyes: over and over again. So many women who broke my heart, the way they believed that the men they loved would protect them, would care for them, only to find that the one they thought would be their happily ever after turned out to be their worst nightmare. The men they love are the ones punching them, kicking them, calling them names, or leaving them pregnant and dumped or desperate on those pieces of shit for any affection whatsoever – Christ!” she almost spits. “It's good to know they're not all bad.”

  “Those men...” I think of one of them hurting Staci and it all but makes my blood boil. “They are the lowest forms of human excrement whatsoever.” I say it so passionately that before I realize it my fists, clenched together, have turned white with exertion.

  “Spoken like a true lady's knight,” says Jaymie.

  I freeze.

  Spoken like a true lady's knight.

  I had heard those words before. Spoken, once, by another woman – a woman with those same full, dark lips, with that same voice...

  Spoken like a true lady's knight.

  Marina had said it, the first date we ev
er went on, when I insisted on picking up the tab for her dry cleaning after I'd accidentally spilled red wine on her beautiful white linen dress. I'd been so clumsy, so overwhelmed by her beauty...

  We'd laughed about it afterwards. Marina had refused to ever get the dress cleaned. “It's proof that I really wowed you,” she used to laugh. “A good memory.”

  But Jaymie betrays nothing in her eyes. No sign of recognition, no sign that anything she's saying or doing is anything but an offhand remark. Like, if Marina is in there, she doesn't know it. And yet those words, when she says them, when she puts her tongue between her lips like that, when she looks at me with those eyes...

  No, it can't be.

  Marina is dead. I have already mourned her. I know that there is no hope for us, anymore; I have missed her for too long already. And yet – the way Marina is looking at me – no, damn it, the way that Jaymie is looking at me, don't let yourself start to go crazy, Xander – is so full of genuine, real affection. Like just seeing me makes her happy. Like...

  We had one night together, that's all. Not enough to make feelings come into the equation. Not enough to make anything matter – anything at all. Then why do I feel this way? Why does this woman drive me so crazy, even with Staci sitting right next to her?

  But before I can answer Jaymie, or take issue with her words, or ask her what the hell she means by all of this, we are interrupted by Terrence, springing to his feet, a wide-eyed look of horror on her face. “Shit – guys.”

  “What is it?” Staci's head jerks up.

  “You've got to see this – hurry! Xander! Staci! Jaymie!”

  We run over to him just in time for him to hold up his phone. There, in the grainy screen of the surveillance footage, we see a dark, shadowy figure – hooded and obscured – make its way to Ben's sleeping body. And then, before any of us can blink, there is a bright light, a blinding flash.

  Then both are gone. The bed is empty. It is as if Ben was never even there.