Kahlen Aymes - Angel After Dark

He pulled her arms from around him and left her standing in the middle of the room. She followed after him, wrapping her hands around his body and pulling his unresponsive form as close to her as she possibly could. “Don’t go. Make love to me, just once. Just one more time. Then you can leave—” she begged, desperation hanging heavily on her words, “—if you still want to.”

Alex inwardly cringed. As virile as he was, as much as he loved sex, the thought of it with Whitney in this circumstance left him cold. He stilled and pulled her arms from around his body once again. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Whitney. But I’m just… not into this anymore. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I don’t want to drag this shit out. Just let it go.”

Her face became hard and filled with anger. “So this is it? Just like that?”

“Hardly just like that. Be honest. It hasn’t been exciting for months. We want different things out of relationships, and you’re materialism has killed the desire for me.” He turned and picked up his tie and jacket as he made his way toward the door. “Call Mrs. Dane if you need anything and she’ll make sure you are taken care of.” Alex wanted nothing more than to be done with her but felt a certain responsibility. His personal assistant could take care of any loose ends. That was her job and she was excellent at it.

“You dick! I hate you!” She picked up the glass he had left on the table and flung it at him. “I hate you! Do you hear me? You’re a fucking bastard, Alex!” she screamed after him, but he kept walking as if she hadn’t uttered a word.

“So you’ve said.” He always hated this part of it, but it was inevitable. Every woman he’d ever dated had ended up wanting more, and the more they wanted, the more he pulled away. He didn’t just get bored and lose interest, he felt suffocated.

The door shut quietly behind him. His usual pattern was repeating itself yet again.

No emotion, no anxiety, no remorse—just relief.

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. His head ached, and he was exhausted from the week. Avery Enterprises had been losing money on one of its hotels in Munich, and his father sent him to audit the books when a couple million dollars went missing. This wasn’t a big concern in the big scheme of the business as a whole, but it was the principle of the thing. Even a company the size of this one couldn’t afford to have employees who were skimming off the top.

Several food and liquor expenditures from the restaurant couldn’t be substantiated with the appropriate receipts, and Alex was able to find the discrepancy easily. Both the CFO and the executive chef of the property had been fired as a result. It was the chef that was padding his pockets, but if the CFO had been doing his job, it wouldn’t have been Alex who found the error from half a world away during a semi-annual audit. He wasn’t even angry when shit like this happened anymore, but he was fucking sick of all he traveling.

The first class cabin was dark as the Boeing 737 taxied onto the tarmac toward the terminal at O’Hare International, which sometimes felt like it literally took hours. So many planes waiting to take off on the numerous runways made Alex impatient. He leaned back in his seat and checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time; 9:45 PM on Friday night. Cole and Darian had both called asking him to meet them at a local club. He pulled his tie off and shoved it in the front pocket of his laptop case, before running a hand through his hair. Between the two of them, and Whitney’s unending attempts to get him to call her back, it left 20 unheard messages on his cell phone. All since he’d taken off from his connection in London.

He sighed heavily. Really, all he wanted was a drink, a hot shower, and his bed. The question was should he go to his apartment downtown or his estate? Either one was about the same distance from the airport, but at least he’d be able to hang with his Golden Retriever at the house.

His phone rang again, and he reached for it from the front pocket of his dress pants, glancing at the faceplate as he did so.

“Yeah? Miss me bad, huh, D?”

“Save it, asshole. Where are you?”

The plane was just pulling up to the terminal, and the jet walk was moving into place. “Just got in. I’m gonna have serious jet lag, man. I’m out for tonight.”

“Okay. I probably should go to the station anyway, unless you need a ride?”

“No. I’m having a car pick me up.” Alex stood up and pulled his laptop case from under the seat with one hand and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m good.”

“Maybe we can get together to play racquetball or something next week?”

“Sure, sounds like a plan.” Alex made his way to the front of the jet, and the flight attendant gave him a warm smile, her eyes roaming over him in slow appreciation. His lips twitched slightly in amusement, but he kept walking through the jetway and into the terminal with casual purpose.

“I sent you something, Alex. Are you going to the apartment tonight?”

“I was considering going to the house. Max will be missing me, and my housekeeper has earned some time off after this week. Why?”

“Uh, well, I sent you one of the promos from the show,” Darian said with a chuckle. “Thought you might like to see how fucked your perception of the lovely doctor really is, but it can wait. Just let me know if you’ve changed your mind after you see it.”

Alex smiled tiredly. His curiosity was piqued despite his insistence that he was totally indifferent to Darian’s continued baiting about this woman. It had become something of a game between them, and he chuckled. “Well, it won’t make any difference. She’s probably frigid. And, Whitney has been damn relentless this week. It’s enough to make my dick shrivel up in defiance so I’m useless to the opposite sex. Why are you on my ass about her, anyway?”

“Because you won’t believe how unbelievably hot she is, man. Despite the fact that the radio show is doing well and it’s really helping me professionally, I’m waiting with baited breath until she doesn’t work for me anymore. Then I can make a move on her myself.”

“Mmmm… Well, if I’m to believe what you say, she’ll bite your dick off for you.” Alex laughed as his driver pulled up and took his bags from him. “Then where would you be? You won’t be able to show her who’s boss.”

Darian burst out laughing on the other end of the phone. “Well, I’m thinking it just might be worth it, Alex.”

“Not likely. You know how I feel about that. I’d never let any woman lead me around by my dick. Ever. You need a distraction in a bad way.” His phone beeped as another call came through and interrupted. Fuck, it’s her again. “Hey, man, I have to go. Whitney’s calling again. I either have to talk to her or get my number changed. I’ll call you in a couple of days and we’ll set up the game.”

“I vote for the new number. Later, Alex.”

Alex slid into the back of the limo and clicked over to the other call. “Alexander Avery.” The impersonal greeting was deliberate.

“Hey, baby,” she purred on the other end of the phone.

“Hold on.” He put his hand over the phone so he could speak with his driver. “Martin, to Water Tower, please.”

He made the decision to spend the night in his downtown apartment, one of the most expensive and prestigious establishments in all of Chicago. It was right in the middle of the city, and it made getting to the office ten times easier than commuting from Evanston. However, at the moment, it was the promise of those photos that lured him there. During the conversation with his best friend, maybe he’d gotten just a tiny bit interested in the intriguing picture that Darian had painted.

“Okay, Whitney. What can I do for you?” Alex’s tone was unemotional and businesslike; his mind went blank as the lights of the interstate and other cars reflected off of the darkened windows.

“Come over. I’m lonely,” she said softly. He rolled his eyes in disgust. He wasn’t in the mood to repeat this scene.

“Uh, were you not there last week when we ended it? That was you, right?” he asked, his voice turned ice cold and dripping sarcasm.

“Alex…” she began pleadingly, but he cut her off.

“No. Whitney, I’m beat, and I’m not interested in a repeat performance.”

She didn’t say anything, and he grew uncomfortable with the silence.

He sighed. “Look, I thought we decided this was best, didn’t we?” He really didn’t mean to be a prick, but he had to be damn careful of what he said because if the door opened even a crack, she’d be through it so fast his head would be spinning.

More silence followed, except for the sniffling on the other end of the line. He decided to distract her, even piss her off a little bit, so he could get her off the phone. He was already thinking about Darian’s radio prodigy and used it for fodder.

“I heard about your call to that radio psychologist last week. Let me remind you of the delicate nature of my position on this. It had better not result in nasty rumors being tossed around in tawdry gossip rags. Keep my name and my company out of it, Whitney, or there’ll be hell to pay. If you need to see a shrink to feel better, then see one, but don’t distribute my private business all over town. You’d do well to get more respect for yourself as well.”

She audibly gasped on the other end of the line. “I didn’t call,” she lied, and Alex was exasperated.

“Look, cut the shit. I know all about it, and I expect you to handle yourself with more decorum.”

“How… how did you find out?” she stammered.

“It’s irrelevant.” Obviously, she was oblivious that his best friend ran that station. It only solidified his decision. “Just don’t let it happen again, or I’ll yank all the money immediately. Is that clear?” he said coldly.

“You never cease to amaze me how cold you can be, Alex. I should have listened to that host when she told me to dump your ass instead of trying to make things better. I’m such a fool!” She was angry, but her voice held some semblance of pain, too, and he just wanted to be done with her.

“No, you’re not a fool. But you’re trying to salvage something that isn’t worth saving, Whitney. Goodnight.”

So, Angeline Hemming told you to dump my ass, did she? Alex was tired, and now he was agitated as hell. Who does this bitch think she is, giving advice on situations she knows nothing about? Not that he was upset that things were over with insidious Whitney, but he’d be damned if he’d be painted as the villain in the whole thing.

It was after eleven by the time Alex walked into his apartment, and he tossed his suit jacket and laptop on the dark brown leather sectional. It sat opposite the large windows that composed the North and East walls of the room; one of them was fitted with a sliding glass door that led onto the balcony of his 23rd floor penthouse. He grabbed the remote and pulled his shirt free of his slacks as he flipped on CNN then walked to his well-stocked bar. He pulled down a glass from the cabinet and poured some scotch, downed it, and filled it again before he went in search of Darian’s little gift.

He found an envelope on the dining room table labeled KKIS FM 105.4. The building concierge was instructed to put his mail inside the apartment whenever he was traveling, and the large, white envelope easily stood out from the smaller ones.

He took it, with his scotch, and wandered back into the living room, sinking down into the luxurious couch cushions. He took a swallow and then ripped the end of the envelope open; anxious to be able to call Darian and tell him he was full of shit.

His full lips lifted in a mocking smile as he pulled the photos from the confines of the envelope and he was left looking at a black and white photo of a woman’s face, but only the lower half of it, her full lips pursed and her finger vertical against them in a shushing motion. The long dark hair draping down on either side of her smooth face fell in full, silken waves. The photo was cropped at the top of her cheeks and Alex found himself feeling very cheated that he didn’t get to see the rest. She had a perfect nose and high cheekbones accenting the flawlessness of her skin and those amazing lips begged to be kissed. Darian had succeeded. His interest was piqued and he definitely wanted to know more about this woman. Air left his lungs in an irritated rush, pissed that he’d fallen for it so easily.

The only color on the photo was her lips, the nail polish, and the lettering, Angel After Dark, Fridays 10 PM–2 AM, KKIS FM 104.5 and the scrawled slogan below it, What’s your Midnight Confession? All in blood red.