Sweet Release (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) (9 page)

Ella

The moment I told Pembry that I was the resident massage therapist at the gym, I knew it was only a matter of time before he ended up on my table. It was a looming sense of dread that haunted me every day after that when I came into work and checked my book for the day. Sure enough, about two days after my date—was it really a date? It was hard to tell—with Mike, there he was, penciled in right after lunch.

I wanted to maybe go to lunch with Mike, but although I’d seen him training with Jarome that morning and we’d exchanged a short ‘hello’ that may or may not have been charged with fissile chemistry waiting to hit critical mass—was it just me?—he was, just then, nowhere to be seen. I had a club sandwich at the little shop down the block, and then spent the short walk back to the gym praying that Pembry had injured himself, or decided he didn’t need a massage, or that I wasn’t that cute after all and it wasn’t worth it.

No such luck.

There were three things that I had to force myself to observe neutrally, with an air of professionalism that until that moment I actually hadn’t really needed to test. First, Pembry carried a faint odor of ammonia about him, summoned up from his kidneys, no doubt, as his trainer pushed him to sweat out the leftovers of some massive quantity of alcohol. It was a familiar smell, but one that I’m happy to say didn’t trigger any immediate anxiety beyond my general dislike for the man.

The second was that where the other trainees at the gym generally came from other backgrounds in martial arts or fitness—the gym was really not a beginner’s gym at all—Pembry obviously did not. There was muscle under his skin, where he was probably once fairly fit; but it was buried under a thick layer of soft pudge that was everywhere and was pockmarked here and there with the remnants and consequences of a bad complexion. On his left shoulder in particular was a large white zit just waiting to burst on me that I avoided like some alien fungus ready to spray me with deadly spores. I cringed when I first saw it. Physically cringed.

Finally, the hair. I don’t mind hairy men. In fact, I think a hairy chest can be hella sexy. Pembry, however, was a patchwork of hairy and smooth, and the hair was thin and wiry all over his back, his arms, his legs and for the second that he actually attempted to flash me his ass—“Whoops,” he’d said, “sorry; didn’t mean to show you the goods there, sugar.”—I discovered that it, too, was peppered with this same odd, uneven pattern of long, thin hair.

As a professional, I can deal with all of these things. Massaging hotties is a bonus of the job, I admit; I do have a pulse. But I started doing massage to help people and I help anyone who gets on my table with equal focus and intention.

It was that fact that they all three happened at the same time, and that they came attached to a man who, from the moment I met him, oozed a kind of slimy, creeping interest in me that I was constantly worried would rear its ugly head any moment. I was acutely conscious of where Pembry’s hands were at any given time, and made a concentrated effort to stay away from them in case he got handsy. Nothing would make me happier than to have him thrown out of the gym, but just the possible trauma of being grabbed by this man was enough that it outweighed dealing with him permanently.

As a result, my session with Pembry was fifty minutes long, exceedingly clinical, and rather quiet—no talking, at least; Pembry did make a point of groaning and moaning while I worked on him, loud enough that I prayed everyone outside my door knew me well enough by now to know that I was absolutely not doing anything disgusting with Jason Pembry of all people.

It was the longest fifty minutes of my life and by the end I was questioning my commitment as a massage therapist. It wasn’t too late to switch careers…

Several times throughout the session, Pembry asked about the time, and lifted his head to look at the door, as though any moment someone might come in. This, and the need to be away from him for any length of time, gave me the instinct to check in with Jarome about a half hour into the session. “Oops,” I said. “Out of cream. I’ll be right back, I have some more in my locker.”

Pembry lodged some protest, but I ignored him.

Jarome was training with Neema, who didn’t mind that I interrupted them. “What’s up?” He asked when I waved for his attention.

“I don’t know for sure,” I told him, “but… Pembry is a little antsy. He’s in my room now. Keeps asking about the time. I think you should check Mike’s bag again.”

Neema kept her thoughts to herself, but she gave us both a concerned glance.

Jarome sighed, and nodded once. “I’ll be just a moment, Neema,” he told her. He left to check Mike’s bag.

Neema frowned at me. “Pembry and Mike?”

I shook my head, “No time. I’ll fill you in later.” I left her, and returned to Pembry, stifling a groan when I realized just how badly he’d stunk up my room.

“Refilled. Sorry about that!” And also, while I’ve got you, what the hell is wrong with you trying to frame Mike for a second time? I wanted to scream at him.

The end of the session finally arrived, and I tried not to sound too happy about it. “All done. I’ll just leave you to get dressed.” No discussion of future work. I’d even tried to give a shitty massage but, it turned out, all Pembry really needed to go full on nasty savage was to be nearly naked in the presence of a woman.

“Hey, uh, you know I could tip you real well if you take care of a little extra tension for me.” He grinned, and glanced down at his crotch.

“No thanks,” I said quickly, and made for the door.

“Hey, hey!” Pembry called after me. He sat up on the table. “Don’t walk away from me, girlie. Come on, it’s just a helping hand, what’s the big deal? You probably do it all the time. What, I’m not cut like these other guys? You women are so fucking shallow, you know that?” His tone was nasty. Cruel.

“It’s illegal, for one thing, officer,” I snapped. “And for another, who the hell do you think you are? What exactly do you think I do here?” I had turned to face him, and now had my fists on my hips.

“I think,” Pembry said, “that I’m an officer of the law, lady; and I can hold you for up to three days without charges regardless what you do here. I can tell ‘em you’re suspected of soliciting, and no one will question it. I mean, you’re a pretty blond in a gym full of guys. Perfect way to make a little extra cash, aingt it? Who do you think people will believe, me or you?” He sneered at me. “Two guesses.”

A thread of ice wound its way through my guts. Whether I was charged with anything or not, that kind of thing invited scrutiny that could cost me my license. The massage therapists board that licensed me already had a line to toe from other scandals in the last few years. I’d have to leave the state to get licensed after that.

For a second, where Pembry was sitting, I actually saw Robert where he was, with that same ugly smirk on his face. “What are you gonna say, Ella? I’m your husband. Who’s gonna believe you?”

“Get off my table and get out of my room,” I said quietly. I was shaking with rage. I could take this guy, I found myself thinking. Yeah, because assaulting a police officer was smart. I was this close to doing it, though. I’d never gotten the chance to put Robert down.

Pembry laid back down on the table, and pulled his sheet aside. I wanted to laugh at him, at the pitiful stump of a mushroom shooting up from the role of fat at the base of his stomach, but instead all I could do was look away.

“You got your choices, girlie,” he said.

“Jarome will throw you out of this place,” I told him. “Cover up, Pembry. Or don’t; I don’t care. I’m leaving.” I turned and put my hand on the door handle.

“Three days,” Pembry said again. “Might be a nice little vacation. It’d be a shame if word got out about why you were being held. Might even make for a rough few days for the Jarome. Can’t let those claims go un-investigated. Always follow-up; that’s out motto, you know? Hell, they may even put me on the investigation. I’m sure I could dig up something in this place makes it looks bad. We’d get everyone out, bring in a squad, search this place top to bottom. No telling what we’d find.”

I opened the door, and spoke to Pembry over my shoulder, without looking at him. “If I see you in here again, I will report you to your commanding officer and file a formal complaint with the department.” I smiled. “I’m sure I can dig up a few more witnesses. Who do you think they’ll believe then, Pembry?” Two could play at that game.

“Bitch,” I heard Pembry mutter.

Maybe he said something else, I don’t know—I left, went straight to the bathroom, and cried angry tears, frustrated at not having done what I always told myself I would do if I was ever in a situation like that again. Then again, I never expected that I’d be faced with a police officer on the other end of it instead of just some asshole like Robert.

I didn’t spend much time there, and it wasn’t cathartic. If anything, I was more angry when I cleaned my face up and came out of the bathroom. God, I had touched him for almost an hour. I wanted to scrub my hands with steel wool, or take a scalding shower. I felt greasy all over.

Pembry exited the massage room like nothing had happened. He rolled one shoulder, rubbed it a little with the opposite hand, and glanced at me briefly before he headed to the bench where the bags were. I wondered if Jarome had found anything in Mike’s bag. I should have told Jarome to deposit whatever he found into Pembry’s bag instead but it probably didn’t work that way.

About ten minutes after Pembry sat down, the woman who had patted Mike down before showed up. She looked frustrated, her short heels tap-tapping over the linoleum at the front of the gym, her red curls bouncing sharply. I wanted to tell her about Pembry, what I’d seen before, and what Jarome had probably seen today, but doing that felt like it would be sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. And the last thing I wanted was to get Mike into any more trouble.

For the second time, all activity in the gym stopped, but at least this go around the woman went with Mike into Jarome’s office where she presumably searched him privately. At least she had some decency.

When she came out, though, she did search through his bag with Pembry watching on. For the second time, she found nothing, and she did not look happy about it. “A word,” she said to Pembry as she left. He glared at the whole room, hefted his bag onto his shoulder, and stormed out after her.

As Pembry finally left the building, I felt the full force of my frustration. My hands were trembling, and I wanted to beat something up. I jumped a little when someone laid a hand on my shoulder, and turned on the ball of my foot, ready to take someone to the floor.

Mike raised an eyebrow as he held up both hands. “Hey,” he said. “If you wanna hit the ring…”

I sighed, the aggression draining right out of me, replaced by a nervous shame at being so out of control. “No,” I said. “Well… not just now. I’m just a little… wired. Pembry he…” Mike’s face grew hard instantly, and his eyes flickered dangerously toward the door. “…he just makes me angry is all. I don’t see how he can get away with this.”

“Believe me,” Mike said, “no one hates it more than me. But, Jarome knows what he’s doing. So he says. I trust him. We just gotta wait it out, let things play how they’re gonna. Look, are you really okay?”

Was I that transparent? Probably. I didn’t have to be. My face was flushed, and I’m sure my eyes were puffy from crying before. I wanted to explain that I hadn’t been crying because I was scared; I’d be furious with the kind of rage that hurts to hold inside.

But I didn’t. Not here, in front of everyone, anyway.

“You want to go out again?” Mike asked. “After work, I mean. Which I guess was probably obvious. I mean, if you don’t have plans or anything. If you do, that’s fine. Another time?”

I laughed a little at the way words just seemed to spill out of him. How did I make a guy like Mike nervous when I looked like I did just now? “Are you asking me out tonight, or turning me down? It’s not real clear, big guy.”

Mike rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. “Uh, yeah. Sorry about that. Tonight. Dinner? On me.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Let me take you out, Ella,” Mike said, softly. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”