Page 64 of Gluttony

The phone screen lights up with an update that I need to provide sufficient funds to my bank account. This isn’t the account I have for the con, the one I’m sure my bosses had somebody check out before hiring me. This is my joint account with Mickey. The one with all of our savings. The fucking account we’ve worked hard to grow and makes sure we have a comfortable life.

There was close to a hundred grand in there.

My chest heaving and my nostrils flaring from both panic and complete and utter rage, I raise my hand to throw my phone against the opposite wall when an ironclad lock on my wrist halts my movement.

“You’d regret that in an instant, trust me.” It’s only when I look up at Hayes’s concerned eyes, all deep blue and jumping from one to the other that I realize I’ve got tears rolling down my cheeks.

“I know but you just took away two seconds of bliss.”

Hayes leans in and catches my earlobe between his teeth. “You came all over my trousers, Diamond. If you need another orgasm from me, just say the word. Guaranteed, it’ll feel better than smashing your phone.” With the aid of his thumb, he wipes away the tears before bringing his digit to his mouth and sucking. Not once does he take his gaze away from me.

Why is that so fucking hot?

“I guess you’re right.” My entire body aches from the tension in my shoulders and the base of my neck. Stress will be the end of me, I’m sure of it.

“Come on, then. Let’s get you back home and we’ll have that chat. The guys are already waiting for us downstairs.”

We don’t say a word the whole way to the car, and as though the guys got the memo, they don’t engage in small talk either. The car ride home is silent and I’m so damn grateful for that because I’ve only got minutes to figure out what the fuck I’m going to say to them once we’re at the penthouse.

More than that, I need to figure out what happens to me after they kick me out. Because I’m not a fucking idiot, they’ll grab my shit and, if I’m lucky, order me a car to drive me back to my dump.

Oh, wait…it’s been rented out to someone else, thanks to Hadley.

The reality of my dire situation dawns on me between Twenty-third and Sixth. As of this moment, I’m homeless.

Shit.

I’m guessing my body language is speaking volumes since I can feel three pairs of eyes watching every move I make. Bet they won’t be expecting that, will they? Although, they have no idea about the condo on the Upper West Side so when they kick me out, where will they have the car drop me off?

My entire body freezes at the idea that, holy shit, what if they take me to a bridge? Do people even live under the highways? I know the Red Hot Chili Peppers had a song about being in L.A. but I’m not getting a tent under the Manhattan Bridge, oh my God that would suck.

Well aware that my mind is spiraling and taking me down an uncomfortable dark road, I take in a deep breath and visualize the positive points and possible outcomes.

Who knows? Maybe the guys will take pity on me. At least give me enough time to find a place to live. After all, it’s their fault that I’m homeless.

Also, I’ll have to find a job that pays enough to cover rent in Manhattan and that, right there, is a feat in and of itself.

I hear Queens is nice, maybe even the Bronx. I could pay lower rent and get a job as a barista. Meanwhile, I’d send my resumé to every single production company in the country and beg for a job as an agent.

A sour chuckle escapes me as I shake my head. I should’ve been born in July because I’m the epitome of a summer child. Naïve to the core and blind as a fucking bat.

If I could, I’d kill Mickey with my bare hands. When that woman called earlier to tell me they needed my signature to sell the condo, my entire life flipped across my mind like a bad Power Point presentation—bullet points and all.

“What the hell?” My attention turns to Hayes when he speaks, something in his tone grabs my attention.

“What’s going on?” No one answers my question and I’m pretty sure it’s because no one knows the answer to that.

Police cars are parked all around the building, yellow tape surrounding the entrance. It’s clear they’ve been here for a while since the firefighters are just leaving.

“It’s a crime scene.” Just as the words spill from between Orion’s lips, a gurney rolls out from the building toward the only ambulance on site. They’re taking their time and the body is covered in black.

“Oh my God.” My gasp is loud and I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the car was able to hear the staccato of my heart. “Maybe someone had a heart attack?” I know for a fact that it can’t be true or else the yellow tape wouldn’t be there but I have to try, I have to find a different explanation to this horrible sight.

“Come on, let’s see what’s going on.” Hadley is the least affected among us until we speak to one of the officers.

“There’s been a murder, sir. Do you live in one of the apartments?” The young officer doesn’t look a day over twenty-five, yet he gives the impression that he’s not affected by the cruelty of the world.

“Yeah, penthouse.” Hayes takes the lead, stepping in front of Hadley and putting on his CEO face and erecting his impenetrable walls.

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