The First Rule by Nicole S. Goodin

24

Ryan

I leanmy back against the brick wall of the building three blocks away from Steele Industries, my breathing is so heavy, it’s like I’ve just run a marathon rather than a few hundred metres.

I never anticipated hitting the jackpot like that. I’d been lurking around the building, waiting for Loretta to finish work. She’s the only employee from the office I decided I could trust. We were close once. She cried the day I left. We were the closest things to friends as people get within that type of environment.

I was waiting on the stairs when I heard him speak. He was on the phone, and some type of guardian angel must have been watching over me, because not only did I get his end of the conversation, but I heard Mark’s too.

I can’t stand Mark Vanderfits; we met him in college… the guy was a complete loser and an entitled little punk back then, and judging by what I just overheard, he doesn’t sound like he’s done an ounce of growing up since.

But no matter how much of a complete and utter douche I think he is, I also feel like sending the guy a cheque for a hundred grand. His conversation has just given me a wildly unexpected lead.

I slide my cell out of my pocket and dial Rebel.

“Did you find her?” she demands by way of greeting.

It takes me a minute to register that she’s talking about Loretta – getting her help seems so insignificant now. “No, but forget that, I got something so much better. I overheard Jacob on the phone to an old college buddy. He made some pretty incriminating comments.”

“Details. Now,” she insists.

I glance up and down the dimly lit street. I know there’s no chance of Jacob seeing me here. His driver picks him up outside the building and then they drive in the opposite direction, but still… that was a narrow escape. Too close for my liking, but fuck was it worth it.

“He was telling Mark that Darcy was pregnant, and Mark made a joke about how he could have got the stripper from his buck’s night pregnant.”

“Ew,” Rebel interrupts. “So, he fucked a stripper a week before he was meant to be getting married. Real classy guy, your brother.”

She doesn’t even know the half of it, but why anyone would ever cheat on Darcy is beyond me.

“That’s not all. His response was that getting a stripper pregnant ‘wouldn’t be a mistake he’d make twice’.”

I hear her gasp. It takes a hell of a lot to shock Rebel, but it would seem that Jacob Steele has taken the honours today.

“That seedy bastard! He got some poor bitch pregnant?”

I shrug, even though she can’t see me, my eyes darting around the quiet street. I’m so jacked up, so full of adrenaline. This is it. This is exactly what I needed.

“I know my brother. There is no way he would have let some random woman have his child. He would have thrown money at her until she agreed to terminate.”

“We have to find her, but there must be hundreds of strippers in this city.”

I wait for the penny to drop, but apparently Rebel is having an off night in the world of crime fighting.

“You reckon that business card I found in his office the other night for the escort service might be a good place to start?” I drawl.

“Holy shit!” she cries. “You’re wasted in hospitality; you should be a detective.”

I don’t know if she’s being sarcastic or serious, and I also don’t give a fuck. I’m onto something here. I can feel it. I didn’t take the card with me, but the name ‘Candy’ from ‘Elite Services’ is burned into my brain.

“I’ve gotta go. I need to get the hell out of here and then get on Google and find this chick.”

“You know, I was thinking of something else that you could do… and this just makes me think it’d be even more of a good idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“I know it’s highly illegal, but you know, so is kidnapping and blackmail, so I figure it’s fair game at this point.”

“Continue.”

“You should call Jacob’s doctor’s office and get them to send you out his medical records. You sound just like him… you know how to answer all his personal questions… It would be child’s play.”

I contemplate her suggestion. I don’t know what I’d need his medical records for, but it couldn’t hurt. Where Jacob is concerned, the more information the better.

“I could probably do that.”

“Create a new email account that sounds legit and get them emailed over. I don’t know if they’ll be of any use, but if he’s out there knocking up hookers and fucking strippers, he’s probably sleeping with half the woman around here… maybe he’ll have caught something we can have a real laugh about, if nothing else.”

I chuckle. Trust Rebel to jump straight to thinking about potential STDs.

“I’ll get on it,” I promise her.

“Back to work, detective.”

I kill the call and jump straight onto Google. I should be making a move around the block, back to my car, but I need to do this now – I’m too jumpy to wait.

If this search turns up nothing, I’ll be pissed, but it won’t stop me – I’d be willing to bet my life savings on the fact that Rusty could find this chick Candy if I can’t, but I’d prefer to keep him out of this if it’s possible.

I tap the words into the search bar and wait as a bunch of results come up on the screen.

I shake my head in disbelief at the millions of possibilities.

Turns out ‘Candy’ isn’t exactly an exclusive name in that industry. Go figure.

I try again, this time narrowing it to within the local range and only using ‘Elite Services’ as a search.

I click the first link that comes up, but it doesn’t look right, the branding is off. I never understood branding until I opened a business with the most ‘on trend’ woman in the world. It was all colour schemes, fonts, logos and layouts. And that was just the website.

Apparently, my new skills have come in handy now. The business card I found in Jacob’s office was black and gold and there was a small gold crown in the corner, this site is pink and white.

Wrong.

I close it down and go to the next in the list. That one is mostly black, but with red writing.

Still wrong.

I try the next one, and my heart feels like it’s caught in my throat when I see the gold crown logo.

This is it.

There’s next to no information on the site, it’s all very ‘high end’ feeling, but there is a number. I hit call and start pacing back and forth along the brick wall as it connects and then begins to ring.

“Elite Services, Monica speaking.”

I freeze up, I don’t know what the fuck to say here. I have no idea how old this card is, or if Candy is even still working there.

“Are you there?” Monica asks.

“Hey, yeah, I’m here, sorry.”

“No need to be nervous, darlin’, how can I help you today?”

Great.Now she thinks I’m nervous to book a professional to get my dick wet. Excellent. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I ah, I was just ringing to see if you had a woman named Candy working there… I ah…” I shake my head at myself.

“We sure do. Miss Candy is one of our finest.”

My heart starts thumping heavily again. She’s there. I’m so close I can almost smell it.

“Could I speak to her by any chance? Or I could leave my number with you for her to call me. It’s sort of urgent…”

Monica giggles softly, if not a little forced. “Unfortunately, that’s not how we do things around here. Privacy for our clients, and our girls, is of the utmost importance to us. But I can help you get all booked in for an appointment if you’d like?”

I pause my pacing of the sidewalk. Booking an appointment is absolutely not what I had in mind, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Okay.”

“She’s actually just had a cancellation. How does Friday at seven work for you?”

I blink once, twice, three times. “Sure.”

I give her my name, get the address – about an hour’s drive – and hang up.

Well fuck.

I guess I just made a booking with a hooker. This should be interesting.

* * *

I pullinto the car park and kill the engine. I’m a little early, but when Rebel started calling out after me to ‘enjoy my hooker’, I bailed from the restaurant quicker than I’d planned to.

I glance up at the sleek, black building.

I’d never have guessed that high-end hookers were behind those shiny windows, but that’s the world we live in now. To be fair, I’m still not one hundred percent certain that she is a hooker. But logic would suggest.

It’s been two days since I made this booking, and I still don’t know what type of fucking game plan I’m going to roll with once I get in there. I’m winging it, and I’m not sure it’s the best plan I’ve ever had.

There will be no hiding who I am, if this woman has dealt with my good-for-nothing brother, then she’s going to recognise me on the spot. If she doesn’t – then she’s probably not the woman I’m looking for, and that scares me more than the possibility of some potentially awkward interaction.

I don’t let myself think too hard about this not being the woman he was referring to. It has to be her. I need this before I completely lose my mind.

I glance at my watch, mumble “fuck it,” and get out of the car.

I’m greeted by a very attractive woman, who leads me down a narrow hallway and into a small room with a door.

I paid my two thousand dollars upfront, with a hold on my credit card for ‘extras’. I don’t know what that means, and I was too shit scared to ask, but I make a mental note to ask Rebel later – that woman knows everything about everything.

“When the light turns green, you can go on in,” she tells me before leaving me to sit – awkwardly as fuck – in the leather armchair outside the closed door. Everything looks and feels so plush and expensive. Whatever they’re doing here, they’re making good money.

The light turns green, and I jump up out of the seat. I pause at the door for a moment, taking a big, deep breath, before turning the handle and pushing it inwards.

I don’t know what I was expecting – dim lighting maybe, velvet on the bed and a woman dressed in some kind of lingerie is what immediately springs to mind when I think about hookers, but I don’t find any of that.

There’s a bed, sure, but it’s white and fresh-looking. And Candy is fully dressed in a pink dress.

“Hey,” I say, the word coming out without any conscious thought of what might follow it.

She looks at my face, then moves her gaze down to my chest before flashing back to my face in surprise.

Her eyes widen as she stares at me.

“Jacob?” she questions. “What are you doing here?”

I swallow deeply. I guess that answers that question.