Million Dollar Devil

9.

There's a lighter energy in the office without Mr. Hayes' presence. The usual tension melts like warm butter, and I finally take in the beautiful 360-degree view in front of me. Rain falls outside the window, and I watch as it pours onto the city, as if I have a view from heaven.

"Lucky me," I say quietly, and for the first time in a long time, I actually mean it.

I sit down at my desk with a latte, warming my cold hands against the hot mug as I get settled into my leather chair. I review meeting notes from conferences Mr. Hayes is unable to attend during his trip. I take note of the necessary contracts that need to be written up and where follow-up action is needed on his part.

I check his itinerary to see what time he will be landing today and email the driver to confirm a 9 p.m. airport pick-up.

The rest of the day breezes by, and at precisely 6 p.m., the driver is waiting outside for me. His black suit matches the large black Escalade he stands beside. I tighten the scarf around my neck as I exit the building.

"Hello, Miss Wright," he says as he opens the door for me. I slide into the car, already noticing the seat warmers radiating heat through my shivering body.

"Hi, Antonio, how are you?" I ask politely.

"Very well. I love driving in the rain," he smiles gently, his soft voice full of pure positivity.

"Me too," I smile back.

"You are in luck then," his eyes shift to meet mine in the rearview mirror, "Your car is as good as new. The mechanic dropped it off in your apartment complex parking lot."

My face lights up, "Yay!"

"Mr. Hayes has covered the mechanic bills and filled the gas tank. You are all set to drive to work tomorrow, but please keep my number as I am only a call away. Your keys are right here in the center console."

"Thank you, Antonio, I really appreciate it." The kindness both he and Mr. Hayes show me is more than I have felt in years.

Just as Antonio said, my car is parked in front of my apartment. There it sits in all its glory, as good as a beat-up 23-year-old car can look. I smile before heading up to my apartment.

Opening my front door, I am harshly greeted by frigid air. I throw on an extra jacket and tightly wrap my scarf around my neck. The bucket I put below my leaking roof is nearly full. I sigh as I pour out the water into the sink.

The buzz of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts.

Hey babe, thanks for covering tonight, I owe you one. Don't forget it's red night.

I mildly regret my kindness as my eyes flutter closed for a quick second. I can't help but roll my eyes thinking about Alex's newly implemented weekly color-coordinated dress code. He says it will make us look more "put together," but I say it's just another desperate attempt to exert control over us.

Searching through the top drawer of my dresser, I pull out a red mini skirt and a matching lace bralette. Completing the look with some red lipstick and winged eyeliner, I bundle up and head out the door with my heels in my hand.

Jack greets me at the back door, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. He holds the door open with a soft smile as he sends a greeting nod in my direction.

"Have a good shift," he says, his gruff voice turning to vapor in the frigid air before he takes a long drag from his cigarette.

"Thanks, Jack," I rush in, unable to bear the cold another minute.

I peel off my layers, revealing my red lingerie, and touch up my hair and makeup in the mirror. Surprisingly satisfied with the way I look tonight, I step out from behind the purple curtain.

Sweat drips down my chest as I drop low to the ground, moving my body in a slow, fluid motion. I bite my lip and utilize my bedroom eyes, directing them at the men sitting in front of me. They hoot and holler, their eyes gleaming with lust and excitement, but all I can think about is how their tips will pay for my leaking roof, a thought that motivates me further.

The music bumps, and the red lights shining on the stage reflect off the latex worn by the dancer next to me. Alex sits in the back at the bar. He watches us, barely blinking an eye and judging every move we make. The other dancer and I make quick eye contact, and with a knowing look, we express our annoyance.

I snake my body and run my hands over my hips, moving slowly and seductively. My eyes connect with Alex, and he sends a nod of approval, apparently satisfied with my performance. I turn around, my back facing the audience, making sure Alex doesn't see my disgusted look.

As the end of the night rolls around, I re-bundle up backstage. With my coat wrapped around my body and heels in hand, I make a run for my car. I slide into the driver's seat, fumbling to put my keys in the ignition and turn on the heater. Slowly, my shivering body warms up as I drive toward my apartment.

Stepping out of my car, I make my way up the stairs with tired eyes and a yearning to crawl into bed and sleep for days.

As I round the corner, I hear my name. My gaze shoots up from the ground, making contact with none other than Leo Hayes.

He stands in front of my door, his suit still perfectly pressed and looking just as good as usual.

My eyebrows knit in confusion as I respond, "Uhm... Mr. Hayes. What are you doing here?" My surprise and discomfort are evident in my tone.

"You aren't answering your phone," he says in a serious tone, "I need the paperwork from today's meetings so I can draw up the contracts."

His eyes suddenly meet mine. He scans my face, taking in my appearance, his eyes drop to the stilettos in my hand. His gaze darkens, and his jaw clenches, only making his jawline more defined. I am suddenly self-conscious of my glittery eyeliner, bright red lipstick, and the red stilettos in my hand. I am sure he barely recognizes this version of me, the version I had hoped he would never see.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Thank you so much for sticking with this story! I am so excited for it to unfold. Please don't forget to vote if you are enjoying it! Votes and comments really encourage me to continue this story and give it my all.

All my love,
Alexandra