Chapter Four
809 Words
Meanwhile, Earl checked his phone. Missed calls. Too many. All from Mark.He sighed and called back
“Where the hell have you been?” Mark’s voice burst through. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“Busy,” Earl said. “Handling things.”
“By ‘things,’ you mean playing hero. Saving lives. Making headlines.”
“Mark,” Earl warned, rubbing his temple, “I’m already at war with my father. Don’t join the opposition.”
Mark laughed. “What, he’s not proud his youngest son is the city’s latest Superman?”
“Apparently not. Says I’m ruining the political image.” A pause. “So why are you blowing up my phone like an insecure girlfriend?”
A beat.
“By that, you mean Elsie?”
Earl scoffed. “You know better than that.”
“Sure,” Mark said. “Anyway—listen. I need you tonight at the lounge. Eight p.m. It’s about the Reale estate. I need your input.”
Earl leaned back. “Can’t a man enjoy his own quiet space in peace?”
“Not on my watch.” Mark didn’t hesitate. “Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”
The line went dead and Earl stared at his phone for a moment longer than necessary.
***
Earl walked into the lounge exactly five minutes before eight.
As always, he was ushered past velvet ropes and curious glances, straight into the VVIP section. Mark was already there, sprawled comfortably on the leather couch like he owned the place.
“There he is,” Mark grinned, standing. “Superman himself. I knew you’d show.”
He pulled Earl into a tight greeting, the kind only old friends allowed. Earl brushed off the comment with a half-smirk as they settled into the seats.
Almost immediately, a waitress appeared. She didn’t ask. She never did. A bottle of their favorite rum followed, crystal glasses, ice arranged just right.
They poured their first shots and that's when Mark slid a folder across the table. “I need your lawyer.” Earl raised an eyebrow. “What happened to yours?”
“Moved. No warning. I don’t trust replacements.” He leaned back. “You do business clean. Mmmh.”
Mark dealt in Reale estate, high-value properties, quiet deals and sharp margins. More than once, he’d leaned on Earl for advice, signatures and leverage. Earl didn’t mind because to him, business was business.
They talked numbers, locations, risk and opportunity. The conversation was smooth like two men who had done this dance for years.
When the folder finally closed, Mark exhaled. “Alright. Work’s done.”
He lifted his glass. “Time to play.”
Earl subtly signaled the waitress in a language only regulars seem to know.
She disappeared and minutes later, the doors opened again.
Two women walked in with nothing but lingerie. Mark leaned closer, amused. “Elsie looks especially eager tonight.” Earl took another sip. “So does your girlfriend.”
Mark laughed. “You know she’s not.”
He stood, already distracted. “I’m not in the mood to watch tonight.”
One quick signal, and one of the girls followed him out.
“You know where I’ll be,” Mark said over his shoulder before disappearing.
The door shut.
Earl remained where he was, alone now, the other girl drifting closer. Her hand brushed his knee. Normally, this was enough, but tonight, it wasn’t.
“You’ve been gone for a while,” the girl whispered near his ear.
Earl didn’t respond.
Her hands traced his shoulders, slow and deliberate, down to his chest. She was practiced and onfident. This had always worked before. She straightened, the dim lights catching the curve of her body. Music pulsed softly as she moved, teasing but controlled. Her fingers found the clasp of her bra. It fell away. She didn’t rush, she never had to.
She stepped closer, watching his face for a reaction.
Nothing.
Still, she continued. Every movement was fluid and intentional. She slid out of the last barrier between them and let it drop to the floor, unbothered, unashamed.
Earl shifted slightly on the sofa, eyes on her, but he seemed distant. His gaze passed through her, like she was a familiar painting he’d stopped noticing.
Elsie climbed onto the table, slow, deliberate, confident in her power.
Still nothing.
She paused.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice losing its rhythm. “Am I doing something wrong?”
Earl finally looked at her.
“No. It's not you”
The word landed cold.
"Then what is it?" she asked
“Get dressed.”
Her expression flickered with confusion first, then something close to embarrassment. Earl pulled out his wallet, placed some notes on the table without looking back.
“Take it.”
He was already walking away.
- Writer
