All In A Day's Work Read online

  Watching her, he decided he would conclude his business with Brian as quickly as possible—even if it meant giving in to any request his little brother had. He was determined he would have that girl in his bed before the night was over.

  But, unbeknownst to him, the girl had a partner, and the two of them had followed Lane to the bar with plans of their own. Lane didn’t need to worry. He would be going home with her tonight. The girl’s secret partner had waited in the car while she followed Lane in. She was stalking him like a tiger stalks its prey. The girl knew how to catch a man—especially this man. With her skin-tight dresses, high heels, and a silly grin, most men would fall over themselves to get to her. It was a skill she had learned while she was still in high school. It was a power she found intoxicating.

  Brian cleared his throat. “Lane,” he said.

  Reluctantly, Lane turned to his brother. “So, Bri, what’s up?” he said, without a care in the world. “How’s it hanging?”

  Brian was in no mood for Lane’s jocularity. He had been waiting for over an hour. He’d had three beers and was now working on his fourth. Normally, he didn’t drink much and the beer was already having an effect on him. His annoyance at waiting was heightened by the beer, and, adding insult to injury, Lane was more focused on the girl at the bar than him.

  Brian had no allusions as to his relationship with Lane. Lane was the oldest and never had the time nor the interest for Brian or their single mom. Lane always put on an air of superiority and didn’t hide the fact that he had little use for either of them. He seemed embarrassed that he was related to them. Nothing had changed over the years.

  Lane decided to take the bull by the horns. He had bigger fish to fry this evening. He tried to pry his eyes away from the blonde.

  “Brian, I’m kind of in a hurry tonight. I’ve got some business to attend to, and I’m flying out in the morning, on a little R&R. You need money for Mom? I can put a check for a few hundred in the mail in the morning before I go.” Assuming that was all Brian wanted, he started to get out of the booth.

  Clearly insulted, Brian responded, “I didn’t call to ask you about money, Lane.” He leaned closer to his brother. “But I am curious to know how you get your money.”

  Quizzically, Lane replied, “I’m an investment broker. You know that.”

  Brian shook his head. “Cut the crap, Lane. Mom was listening to the radio yesterday. She likes to listen to that consumer advocate guy. Bob…” Brian fumbled with the last name.

  Lane rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Bob Jackson?” His intonation said all there was to say. He knew about Bob Jackson, and he didn’t like him—or his fucking show.

  “Yes. Bob Jackson. He calls himself the ‘consumer champion’.”

  Lane sighed. “I’m familiar with him, and his show. I like to think of him as Mr. BJ, as in, Mr. Blowjob.” He laughed at his own joke. Brian didn’t laugh.

  “Come on, Brian. You know that’s funny. When did you lose your sense of humor?”

  Brian still wasn’t laughing. He glared at Lane and shook his head sadly.

  Most towns had a consumer advocate, and Denver was fortunate to have more than one. Bob Jackson was the host of his own show called “The Consumer Champion”, and he took the role seriously. Most residents in the Denver area had heard the show, or at least knew about Bob, and Lane was no exception. Before he began his Ponzi scheme, he even found the show entertaining. Now, when he listened, he cringed, because on more than one occasion, he’d heard Bob talking about him. And recently, Jackson and his team had been calling him to get his explanation regarding all the complaints they were getting. Lane made the mistake of taking their call the first time and it hadn’t ended well, so from then on, he stonewalled them. Their persistence was further evidence that it was time for Lane to pull up and move out.

  Lane was barely listening as Brian rambled on about how their mom had been listening to the show when, to her dismay, they started talking about her son. She tried to tell herself it was someone else they were maligning but as they went on, she realized it was definitely Lane they were talking about. And the things they were saying about him weren’t flattering. She was afraid to call Lane and confront him directly, so she’d asked Brian to do it for her.

  Lane made a masturbatory gesture. “So?”

  Brian tried to remain calm. “Lane, Mom heard people calling you a crook. She almost had a heart attack.”

  “Can’t live forever,” he replied mockingly.

  “What the fuck are you saying?”

  “Mom’s got to die someday. No one lives forever.”

  “What an ass you are,” Brian spit out with disgust. “So, the allegations are true.”

  “I don’t really care what they say about me on that stupid program. And I’m tired of Mom telling me how to live my life.” His voice rose in agitation. “Or you and your stupid little cunt of a wife, for that matter. Mind your own fucking business!” He yelled, drawing the attention of a few patrons seated nearby. Some turned to stare at them. “Fuck you. Mind your own business,” he snarled at them.

  Brian met his anger with his own. “You’re a goddamned crook!” he shouted.

  “Sounds like you have convicted me without a trial. Don’t I get my day in court?” he said, calming down slightly.

  Brian leaned in closer. “You want your day in court? I’m sure that’s coming soon. Are you denying what they said about you?”

  “What did they say, Brian?” Lane asked sarcastically. “What exactly did they say?”

  Brian’s face turned red, and the veins in his neck bulged. “They accused you of stealing their retirement funds, Lane. Bob Jackson says he’s heard this complaint about you before and was going to make a call to the DA. Says he’s tried to talk to you before but you blew him off. He called you a rude jerk, among other things.”

  The DA? Crap, thought Lane. He could handle Bob Jackson but if he was going to the DA, then this would get back to the mayor and the police chief. He couldn’t have that. He started to have a panic attack. The only thing that saved him from breaking into a cold sweat was the realization that he had called it right. He was pulling up roots and taking over fifteen million dollars with him in the morning. But the thought didn’t assuage his anger toward Jackson—or Brian, for that matter. Bob wasn’t there for him to take his anger out on but Brian sat across from him with his stupid self-righteousness. Well, enough was enough.

  But Brian wasn’t done.

  “So, you’re going to rip people off until you get caught? You’re just a common criminal.”

  Lane leaned toward Brian and lowered his voice so that Brian could barely hear him.

  “Bob Jackson is a pompous asshole. The people who call his crappy little show to talk about me are sniveling little babies and greedy little shits who deserve to lose their ass to me.”

  “Unbelievable. I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Lane.”

  “Let me teach you a lesson about people. You can’t steal from an honest man. These pricks who invest with me are looking for more than they deserve. Most of them don’t deserve the wealth they have to begin with. They think just because they have money, they are entitled to it, and on top of that, they think they deserve unrealistic returns on their money. I’m teaching them a valuable lesson. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

  “They deserve to get ripped off by you?” Brian looked incredulous. “You try to justify your actions by saying these people had it coming? Unbelievable. I’m sitting here talking to a fucking thief.” A little line of spittle formed on his chin. He wiped it off quickly with his shirtsleeve.

  Lane rubbed his hands over his face and scratched his head. He was trying to remain calm but clearly losing the battle. Without warning, he lunged across the table with lightning speed, grabbed Brian by the lapel, and lifted him out of his seat. Brian’s anger was quickly replaced by shock and fear. Lane was bigger, stronger, and, over the years, had shown he was a ruthless fighter.
r />   “Listen you little shit. I don’t need to take this crap from you or anyone else.” His face had turned bright crimson while Brian went white. “You keep your fucking nose out of my business and tell Mom that goes for her, too.” He tossed Brian back into his seat with about as much effort as a child tosses a teddy bear. Brian’s beer bottle tipped over and spilled onto him, soaking the front of his pants. The bottle rolled off the table and crashed to the floor, shattering, pieces flying everywhere.

  Ignoring everyone in the room but Brian, Lane shouted, “Now, get the fuck out of here and don’t ever bother me again or I’ll make you wish you were never born!”

  Brian started to say something but choked on the words. He turned to leave and took a few steps, enough to get out of his brother’s reach, then turned back to face him.

  “You’re an asshole, Lane,” he snarled. “You always have been. And one of these days, you’ll get yours. I hope to hell I can watch your face when you go down. I wish you were dead. Hell, I wish you’d never been born.”

  Lane feigned a move toward Brian. The move startled his younger brother, causing him to slip and fall on the wet floor and onto the broken glass. A shard of glass sliced into his hand. He cried out in pain, expecting his brother to pounce on him while he was down and finish the humiliation. But Lane was done; he had made his point and was already calming down. He looked down at his brother, laughed, and turned away. As far as he was concerned, they were done. It would be their last encounter, and he felt no sadness or remorse. He was relieved it was over and didn’t watch as his brother slunk out of the bar, wet, humiliated, and with blood dripping from his hand.

  Anyone else would have been shattered or at least mildly upset by the encounter, but not Lane. As a youngster, after his father left them, Lane learned to compartmentalize. That ability enabled him to set the experience aside and move on quickly. He had plans for this evening, and he wasn’t going to let an encounter like that spoil the rest of the night. And why not? It was Friday night. Even if the DA was about to make a move, he didn’t think it would happen on a Friday night. They could come looking for him tomorrow or next week. It didn’t matter. No one knew where he was going or his new identity. While the authorities wasted their time searching for him, he would be sipping tropical drinks on a beach.

  He glanced at his watch and was pleased to see it was still early. He looked around for the blonde. She wasn’t sitting at the bar anymore. The goddess of his dreams was gone. She’d probably watched the altercation and decided to hook up with someone else. Another reason to hate Brian. Crap. It would have been fun, but he consoled himself with the thought of playing the rich bigshot on the beach. The girls would be draped all over him.

  Somewhat deflated by losing the blonde, he turned toward the door to leave and banged into someone. It was the blonde, and he nearly sent her sprawling to the floor. He grabbed her before she fell and steadied her. Her three-inch-heels put her eye-to-eye with Lane and for a moment, they just stared at each other. She was even more beautiful up close.

  “Thanks for catching me,” she said enticingly.

  “My pleasure. Really.”

  She had dark green eyes, so green that he had trouble believing they were real. Mesmerized, he continued to hold her, although she was clearly steady now.

  “You can let me go now,” she said, “or we could stay like this for a while. Whatever you like.” She was smiling.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he managed to say as he released his grip on her. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I didn’t mean you had to let me go,” she said seductively.

  “I, ah…” he stammered, “I’m Lane.”

  “Hi, Lane,” she replied. “I’m Emma. Emma Payne. Are you going to just stare at me or are you going to ask me to sit down and have a drink with you?”

  “Yes… yes. Of course. May I buy you a drink?” He was flustered by her beauty and how she was coming onto him. It was a feeling he was unaccustomed to—normally, he had to work much harder.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He guided her over to the table that he and Brian had just occupied. There was still spilt beer on the table and the bench where Brian had been sitting. She sat down on the dry bench while he grabbed some napkins and started to dry off the wet area. She motioned for him to sit beside her instead. “This seat is dry,” she said as she patted the bench next to her. With little hesitation, he dropped the wet napkins and slid in beside her. He wasn’t accustomed to being the one being pursued but he thought he could get used to it. He wondered if scoring five million dollars gave off some special pheromone that attracted beautiful girls. He wouldn’t argue with it if it did.

  Now that he was sitting next to her, he could see that she was indeed wearing a dress and not some body paint. Even still, it left little to the imagination. She looked and moved like a professional model on TV. He marveled at the long, white, lace gloves that reached her elbows, creating a mysterious and intoxicating look. He had trouble taking his eyes off her but forced himself to look away long enough to signal the waitress over, so he could order some drinks.

  “Emma Payne. That name sounds familiar.” Lane had some clients named Payne. “Are you related to the John and Linda Payne from Cherry Creek?”

  “No. My family is from Houston. I’m new here.”

  Lane was relieved.

  “It’s a nice name. It fits you well.”

  “Why, thank you, Lane.” she blushed.

  Emma, of course, wasn’t her real name; she wasn’t a real blonde, and she didn’t have green eyes. When police would later ask other patrons in the bar about the girl who went home with Lane, all they would remember was her sparkling green eyes, the flowing blonde hair that covered most of her face, and her body wrapped in a tight dress. And they would certainly remember the white, arm-length gloves. No one would remember ever hearing hear speak more than a couple of words to the bartender, and they were so quiet, he almost couldn’t make out what she was asking for. If she had any other distinguishing marks, no one knew. The guys described her as perfect, and the girls called her a slut.

  She put her hand on his arm, leaned in close, and whispered in his ear, “I couldn’t help but notice you had an argument with that guy.”

  Her perfume was intoxicating, and her touch sent waves of electricity through his body.

  “Oh, umm,” he stammered, “that was nothing. Just some guy putting his nose where it doesn’t belong. He won’t be bothering me again.”

  She smiled and snuggled closer to him. “Good. I want your full attention tonight.”

  As if he could manage anything but that.

  “I’ve never seen you here before,” he said, knowing that he would have noticed her, had she ever set foot in there before. “First time here?”

  She nodded and smiled. And it will be my last visit here, as well as yours, she thought.

  His luck was overflowing tonight. Already planning to leave town, he landed the Markel money, and now, to top things off, this goddess literally dropped into his lap and couldn’t get enough of him. Any thoughts of Brian and their brief fight faded away, along with the DA. Emma was whispering something in his ear but he couldn’t concentrate. He really couldn’t care less what she had to say, as long as it ended with her naked in his bed. He wondered what it would take to get her there.

  “Are you a model?” he asked her.

  She nodded. He had guessed it. Who else had a face and body like that and moved so seductively?

  “What kind?” he probed.

  “Lingerie,” she replied.

  Can it get any better? he thought as his heart skipped a beat. The rewards just kept on coming. “I would love to see you work,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Oh? Would you like that?” she cooed and raised her eyebrow.

  “Sure would. I bet you look hot.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Victoria’s Secret?” he asked.
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  “Hmm?”

  “Do you model for Victoria’s Secret?”

  Emma knew everything about this man. She and her partner had studied him for weeks. They knew what kind of girls he liked, what he drank, and where he drank. They even had compiled a list of people he had ripped off—and it was long and growing. Everything about him disgusted her. She wanted to finish the job and get away from him as quickly as possible.

  “Yes, I do. Would you like to see me model?”

  Lane wasn’t sure if she’d just offered to model lingerie for him, but he was going to find out. He had to be careful. In the past, he had been known to say something crude and ruin things. He wasn’t going to make that mistake tonight. Their drinks came and he slammed his down while Emma sipped hers. He started to signal the waitress over to order more, but Emma placed her hand on his arm and pulled it down.

  “I thought you said you wanted to see me model?”

  “What?” he stammered. “Yes. Um…” He smiled. “Of course. Would you like to come over to my place?”

  Finally, she thought. Time to get this over with. “You know I do. Shall we go?”

  The waitress came over, asking if they wanted another drink, and instead, Lane handed her a fifty-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. She looked at the fifty and then at him. “Are you sure?” she asked, knowing that Lane had a reputation as a cheap tipper.

  “Yeah… keep the change.”

  “Thanks,” she said and quickly turned away before he could change his mind. Bigshot, she thought, just trying to impress the bimbo.

  Outside, sitting in a dark sedan, parked where he could watch the front door, sat her partner. He had been listening to the conversation between his accomplice and Lane Stevens. The background noise made it a little difficult to hear everything being said, but he’d heard enough to know that the plan was working. When Emma and Lane exited arm-in-arm, he smiled. Everything was moving like clockwork, just as he had planned.