I pick up Jake’s driver’s license from the table and stare at it before I set it down on the table and sigh, getting up. “He’s handsome, isn't he, Mr. Felix?” I ask.
Mr. Felix does nothing, practically glaring at me. He probably wants the darkness, and I’m keeping him from his beauty sleep.
I chuckle, walking over to the light switch to get ready for bed. Tonight may have been a nightmare, but something tells me my dreams are gonna be anything but. Just as I flick the switch, I see his ID on the table again and blow it a little kiss. “Goodnight. See you in my dreams.”
Jake
Walking down the hallway from the elevator to the front door of my new penthouse, I lean against the wall, blinking and taking deep breaths. Whatever was in that beer, not only did it come on hard, but it’s hanging around like a monkey on my back. Nathan wanted to follow me up and help me, but I’m too damn prideful for that.
I finally get inside and collapse into my living room chair, groaning and sitting back. At least now that I’m sitting, I can think a little easier. Besides being drugged and robbed blind, the grand opening of Club Jasmine was an overwhelming success. Everyone had a blast. I don’t know any exact numbers, but we had to bring in well over six figures. Of course, that’s not profit, but it was a good opening night.
“You look like shit,” says a familiar voice, and with effort, I turn my four hundred-pound head with the nails stuck in it to see my sister, Sophie, standing against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed, eyeing me critically. The penthouse is a large open room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that span the entire length of the main room, giving a breathtaking view of the skyline. Honestly, I’m still getting used to it and slowly breaking in the furniture, but I like it.
“Why are you still up?” I ask, deflecting. I can't argue with her. I do look like shit. My shirt is rumpled and ripped from where Roxy tore it off, and my eyes are probably bloodshot red. “You were supposed to be in bed hours ago.”
“Are you kidding me?” she asks, her luminous brown eyes gazing at me incredulously. “It's the weekend. If anything, I should have been out at Club Jasmine jamming with my friends.”
“No, you shouldn't. We talked about this already. You and your friends are too young,” I half groan, not wanting to go into this right now.
“So? I'm sure you got into clubs when you were sixteen.”
“But you're not me and that was a mistake. I'm going to make sure you don't make the same ones,” I remind her for what has to be the thousandth time. I’ll give this to my sister—she’s about as stubborn as I was at her age.
Sophie rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. You could’ve at least brought me back one of the signature drinks as a gift. That Little Mermaid drink on the menu looks so delicious.”
I hide a grin. The Little Mermaid, a sea blue drink with tropical notes, also contains a huge shot of triple sec and rum and could probably put Sophie on her ass with one glass. I came up with the name as pun for Nathan, who likes it. I think about Sophie’s request for a second, then shake my head slowly. “No can do. I don't want you to turn into a full-blown alcoholic because the drinks are just that good. If you’re good, I might let you have a sip for your next birthday. That means grades as well as behavior, by the way.”
Sophie sticks her tongue out at me. “Thanks, Dad,” she says sarcastically.
Instead of pushing the point, surprisingly, Sophie changes the subject. “I saw you guys on the news,” she says.
“Did you?” I heave myself out of the chair and walk over to her, shrugging off my suit jacket and setting it down on the kitchen barstool.
She nods. “The club looked totally ah-mazing. There were A-listers everywhere, including some delicious man candy. Nathan looked hella fine.” A dreamy expression comes over her face, and I feel like I have to nip this in the bud. I like Nathan—he’s my boy—but there’s no fucking way in hell I’m letting him near Sophie.
“Nathan is too old for you,” I remind her, “and he has a new girlfriend every other week. He found a new one tonight.”
Sophie makes a face. She’s not listening again. “Yeah. Because he's hot.”
“I’ll let others be the judge of that, but if you ask me, it's because he has money. If you have a million bucks in the bank, you can buy yourself a ten. Nathan knows that better than anyone. Some people think money can buy you almost anything.”
Except happiness, I think inwardly.
“Besides, the dude is like the same size as you. Do you want a man that you have to tuck into bed every night?”
Sophie flushes. “Um, no. Of course not.”
“Okay then. If you’re gonna go for a guy, make sure he’s at least a foot taller than you.” I really don’t care or think it matters, the height of a man, but I just want her to stop with this Nathan shit.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind having a man buy me things. You’re right about that,” says Sophie, forgetting about Nathan. “I want a boyfriend with money. All the guys at my school will never have anything.”
“That's a horrible quality to look for in a guy,” I tell her, trying not to get angry. I remind myself that she’s a teenager, and that’s basically another word for ignorantly immature sometimes. “Money isn't everything.”
“You just said that money can buy you almost anything and now you're telling me it isn’t everything. Which one is it?”
“I said some people think that. I didn’t say it was right. Sophie, it's what's in a guy’s heart that counts,” I tell her. “You can find a man who will buy you the world. But it doesn't mean a damn thing if he doesn’t really care about you.”
Sophie’s expression softens. “That sounds sweet and all. But if a dude bought me a hot red Ferrari, I think I'd be pretty damn happy.”
I chuckle, heading into the kitchen. I can’t really argue with that, especially with a sixteen year old. I fill a glass from the tap and drain it. It has to help in flushing this drug out of my system. “You really don’t need to be thinking about boys right now, though,” I say.
This silences Sophie, and I have to wonder if that means she’s already got a boyfriend. I don’t want to smother her, so I’m just going to forget about it for now. I’m her big brother, and while I take raising her very seriously, I’m not Dad.
I walk over to the couch and almost stumble, having to grab ahold of it to prevent myself from falling flat on my face.
Sophie is at my side in an instant. “Are you all right?” Concern laces her words. It’s the one thing I have to give Sophie. I might annoy her and piss her off with my rules, but she doesn't want to see me hurt. She even tries to pamper me some. I’ve come home from a late night at work to find her curled up on the couch, a homemade dinner sitting on the stove, and a note for me propped on top.
“I’m fine,” I say gently, brushing her aside. “Just tired.”
Sophie walks over in front of me and crosses her arms, staring at me suspiciously. “Something happened tonight, didn't it? I’ve seen you be out later and come home looking a lot better than this. You look like something the cat dragged in.”
I nod. “The grand opening was a major success. Nathan and I are both pleased.”
Sophie scowls. “No, don’t even try it.” She gestures at me. “Look at you. Your shirt looks like you got into a fight with Wolverine.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen you come home like this before.”
I think about denying more, then change my mind. “Something was in one of the drinks I had. It messed me up pretty good. Nathan’s double-checking the video with the security guys to see if it was intentional,” I tell her. It’s enough of the truth to satisfy her, but she doesn’t need to know all the details.
“Jesus, Jake, are you okay?” Sophie asks, sitting down next to me. “Should you go get checked out at the hospital?”