Page 58 of Ms. Fortune

I can’t help but scoff at that description. “Letting you leave? It sounds more like he chose the house instead of you.”

“It was a little of both.” She nods her head from side to side, not completely disagreeing. “We were so young, and he was just starting to make a name for himself. Mischief Motors was getting a lot of attention, and wealthy clients kept pouring in. It was a lot for him to handle. He’d never known success like that before, and he let it go to his head.”

“Yeah, but mom, you were kidnapped by his business rival. I’d think that would smack some sense into him.” I still can’t believe my dad would be so callous.

“That situation started before I even met your dad.”

“Whoa. What? How so?” This sounds intriguing.

She shifts in her seat, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Well, it’s no secret between us that I used to be a dancer, right?”

“Right. I told you I met Sophie, who owned the club, at that gala Brandon took me to.” Memories of our time in that side lounge try to invade my thoughts, but I push them away. I can feel the tops of my ears heat up just thinking about it. Damn it.

“Did she tell you what kind of club it was? I don’t think we ever really talked about it.”

I shake my head with a shrug. “No, I didn’t ask either. I assumed it was a strip club.”

She laughs, almost spitting out her sandwich, and nearly chokes swallowing it. “A strip club? You thought I was a stripper all this time?”

“What? There’s no shame in that.” And there isn’t. Not in my mind, anyway.

“Yeah, but for you to think I was a stripper, and…. Oh, never mind. No, I wasn’t a stripper. I was barely a dancer. It was a neo-burlesque club with no nudity.” She’s still chuckling to herself. “Each of us had a schtick. Mine was a bit of a Marilyn Monroe kind of act. I had the blonde thing going on, the curves, and couldn’t sing for shit. But I was a tease-artist. We all were.”

“So, what does that have to do with Dad and Louie?” I love that she’s talking about this, and I’m getting a glimpse into her history, but I also don’t want to forget why it came up in the first place.

“Well, Louie was a regular at Sophie’s long before your dad stepped foot in that club.” She takes a sip of her iced tea, choosing her next words carefully. “Louie was persistent in asking me to go out with him. I always got a bad vibe from him, so I always put him off. Nice like, though, so as not to offend him, you know how us women have to do. Finally, one night I gave in and agreed to have a drink with him in the club after my set. I wanted to stay on my territory since I wasn’t comfortable being alone with him. I figured one drink wouldn’t hurt, and I could get him to stop asking me out.”

“He sounds like a real creeper. Weren’t there bouncers to handle jerks like him?” I remember him grabbing my arm after the funeral and shiver.

“There was nothing to bounce. He hadn’t done anything out of line at that point. It was just a feeling I got from him.” She shrugs as if it’s just how things were, and it’s not something to question. I guess she’s right. Things were different then, I’m sure. “Well, like I said, to that point. Things changed when I sat with him at the bar and had a drink with him. He decided that was a great time to get handsy with me. Suddenly, this tall, gorgeous man is punching Louie in the face and telling him to get off me.”

“Dad?”

“Yup. And Sophie saw the whole thing. Banned Louie from the club and gave your father free drinks all night. And the rest is all crazy history.”

“He didn’t do anything to you, did he? Louie? When he….”

“No. Nothing like that. I barely saw him, actually.” She waves me off like it was no big deal, but I can see in her eyes that she’s playing it down for my benefit. “I was kept in some basement by his toadies and scared to death. But nobody touched me.”

“So that’s why Louie’s been after Dad all these years? He was jealous of Dad because you chose him?”

She sighs heavily, staring at her glass with a melancholy I’ve never seen from her. “Who knows why that man does anything? Maybe if I’d told you all of this earlier; warned you about Louie, you wouldn’t have gotten….”

“Nonsense, Mom.” I round the table to wrap an arm around her. “There’s no way anyone could have predicted he’d come after me. And it had nothing to do with you or Dad. And honestly, he had plenty of opportunities on my weekends and holidays with him to tell me all about it himself, instead of leaving a stupid vague letter in a folder.”

“It still feels like my fault somehow.”

“Well, it’s not. So, get that thought right out of your pretty blonde skull.” I give her a quick kiss on the top of her head, then start clearing our lunch plates from the table.

“So, what are you going to do about Sacramento? Anything?” A clever subject change and deflection from her. Thanks, Mom.

The dreaded life plan question. I’ve avoided it in my head too, but with all that has happened, I might reconsider getting out of Vegas and back to the safety and security of my townhouse.

“I’m still considering my options. I have associates that are temporarily handling things for me, so I have time to make up my mind. It’s tempting, but it's a big decision.”

“And what’s going on with your Brandon?” There it is. I knew it would be coming eventually. The ‘what happened?’ portion of the discussion.

“Nothing’s going on.” I haven’t heard from him since that night in the hospital. There’s still security protecting me at home and work, which I didn’t ask for, but I appreciate immensely. But we’ve not communicated since I sent him away.

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