Seven's Diary (Hers #4.5) (7 page)

“You let your sub speak like that?” I question the one in charge, who clearly has no idea what it means to be a top, or a Master. Much less what kinds of games go on behind the walls of this club. But, I think tonight I am going to have a little bit of fun with these boys who have no fuckin’ idea what they are in for.

“Room 6. Five minutes. Be kneeling for me. Both of you.”

Thinking back to those boys, I should have known they were both going to be more trouble than pleasure. But it was fun to tie up the alpha male, and let his sub have his way with me. He didn’t know anything about being a sub, and the entire time he tried to voice the alpha male within him while I had my fun. No fun for him, although I am expecting he left with a nice case of blue balls. That poor sub probably got used six ways to Sunday when they left the club though.

But, one thing I am positive of was… he wasn’t punished for his actions with me. He would never be punished. Because all the alpha wanted was to feel better about the fact that he was gay, by disguising it with a fake BDSM relationship.

I came across more of those than I could count over my time at Sinners and Swingers. People with more money than they knew what to do with and some kind of sick fetish they didn’t know how to handle.

Or the sexually confused kids.

But then again, I guess we all go through those times in our life.

The recurring theme in my life is the back and forth with my best friend, Star. I won’t go on a tangent, bad-mouthing all the times she has done wrong, because those times are far less than the good times we have shared. Looking back on the shit we got into… yeah some of it was bad. Real bad. I should have known better. But she would forever be my bad influence. HA!

But, to her it was just the life she had chosen to live. The life she agreed to when she joined me in Manhattan. I really never knew what took place in Woodstock once I left but I am sure a great deal of it had to do with my scumbag brother. She never spoke about it and I never asked. Frankly I didn’t care. In the back of my mind I knew the less of the story I was told, the better.

Now I know that sounds selfish and I guess I can be pretty fuckin’ selfish sometimes. That I own. I found that only thinking about myself is what kept me from getting wrapped up in that emotional turmoil. Feelings aren’t really my thing anymore, unless I was tap-dancing all over someone else’s good mood in the office. And that folks is why they call me a bitch.

Back to Star though, since this is my opportunity to talk about our life together. After I lost James, and I really had no one else left in my life I could really give a damn about, I fell back into my ways with Star. The biggest problem was her addiction. It annoyed the shit out of me. I found myself limiting my time with her because I refused to watch her blowing lines of coke, or whatever her drug of the day was. The whole thing just disgusted me. I never told her that, because in the end it would have only hurt her feelings and pushed our friendship into the depths of hell. She wouldn’t have forgiven my words back then. I would have only become an enemy.

But those rare moments she would curl up in bed with me after a week’s long binge of using, always made me know that no matter what happened or where she went, she always came back to me. I was a constant to her. I was her safe place. I was one of the few people she cared about. And would always care about no matter what happened between us.

I didn’t want that, but it was what I was given in life.

She stood by my side when I grieved for James, mainly for the extra money I would throw around without a second thought. Shit.

Not everything about Star was bad. She just had her own demons she needed to battle to get to where I am today. I don’t know her demons, I can’t pretend to climb inside her head and wonder why she gets a thrill out of stripping naked for the world to see.

Although I suspect somewhere along the line, the same man who got her into porn held something over her head. She would never come to me to get out of the trouble she had gotten in to. She never would.

“Ready for your first trip to Vegas?” Star jumped up and down in the spacious kitchen of my very first penthouse. After several months on the market James’ penthouse sold and I finally felt comfortable using some of his money to move. The first place I could genuinely call my own. I owned a home. I didn’t have a landlord hanging over my head. It was all mine to do exactly whatever I pleased with.

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrug and toss my suitcase into the foyer. I’ve never been one for traveling much. Yeah the surrounding states, but this is the first time I would be getting on an airplane. My anxiety was on high alert. Something about planes always made me nervous. Were they fucking magic? How did they stay in the air? The whole scientific concept behind it all made my head hurt.

“Flying isn’t that big of a deal, Seven. Just relax it will only take us a couple hours and we’ll be there. Fun in the sun for four whole days. Gambling, amazing food, anything you want is at your fingertips!” Her excitement was palpable. I didn’t want to screw with her mood. We would have fun I knew that already, I just didn’t want to fucking fly to get there.

I would be completely fine minus this whole flying bullshit.

“Once we get there, I will be in a much better mood. I promise.” I wrap my arms around my best friend, and press my lips to her forehead. “Ready to head out? Clyde is waiting downstairs.”

And like that we were off to Vegas.

The flight wasn’t that bad.

My motion sickness was a son of a bitch, but the Dramamine I took before we left the house helped me, even if it was slightly. The Jameson helped more though. Sipping some whiskey and ginger ale the entire flight had me cool as a fuckin’ cucumber. What I wasn’t waiting for was the media circus when we got off the fucking plane. Being drunk and dealing with a crowd of people whose sole purpose was to annoy and bully us wasn’t what I needed when I was drunk.

Cameras flashed, and people screamed Star’s name as we walked through the airport to baggage claim.

“Star who is your friend?”

“Is that most the eligible bachelorette and Fortune 500 CEO Seven James?”

“Girls turn for a picture!”

“Are you a couple?”

“How long are you in Vegas for?”

The questions annoyed the shit out of me, and I wondered if this was what Star had to deal with whenever she traveled. The never-ending media circus would drive me up a fucking wall. I hated attention of any type. And this? It was just way too much.

It was certain that if I had to deal with this kind of public scrutiny, I would snap in one of those Kanye West type outbursts that landed a photographer on the ground courtesy of my fucking fist.

I tried my best to ignore all the voices shouting at us as we did our best to try and ignore the crowd. It was hard because all their screechy annoying voices echoed through my intoxicated head stirring up trouble.

“Seven James! Is it true you were the mistress of the late James White?” That is right around the time that I finally snapped. I wanted to laugh at the question, because by means, I was his Mistress but not in the way most Americans looked at the term mistress. In their world it was dirty. A kept woman, none of which I ever was or ever would be. No one could stop me as my body worked on its own. Rage coursed through my body and the only thing I could think about was hurting whoever just had the fucking audacity to speak those words, ask that rude question, and over step their boundaries into my fucking personal life.

His camera fell to the ground, and my fist collided with his face just as Star tried to pull me away from the balding, middle-aged man I just gave a black eye. Blood poured from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to put distance between us. He was clearly embarrassed that a woman just laid him out for a massive crowd to see. His pride was just as hurt as I am sure his face was. But he fucking deserved it. He deserved it for his disrespect of not only me, but James. How dare anyone talk bad about him when he wasn’t even here to defend himself.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” He screamed, picking up the pieces of his broken camera trying to salvage something in the distraction I just caused.

“I’ll save you the trouble scumbag,” I pulled a wad of bills from my pocket. The same wad I had planned on using in the famous airport slot machines I had heard so much about, and tossed them all over where he sat on the ground.

“MAKE IT RAIN!” I screamed as we climbed into the back of the black stitch limo waiting for us at the curb.

Not only had he ruined my fucking first trip to Vegas, but he also ruined the airport slot machines for me. Asshole.

After my trip to Vegas I made two revelations in my life.

One: my relationship with Star would eventually cost me my job and everything James left to me if I continued to act foolishly with her in the public eye. Monday morning was a shit storm in the board room as all the members came at me with footage from TMZ. My attacking the photographer went viral that night. The fact that I was only trying to defend James and his legacy was completely lost on deaf ears. Those men didn’t care about anything but themselves and their own money. If tossing me out of the company I technically owned was what they wanted, eventually they would somehow get their way.

But Star and I were too drunk for the entire weekend in Vegas to realize what was happening. I had no idea my name and picture was all over the news. I had no idea there would be a video of the incident. It wasn’t a world I was familiar with. But I quickly would become more familiar than I would ever be comfortable.

The second realization? I couldn’t party like that. I felt like I had been run over by a fucking bus. James’ voice taunted me in the back of my mind for being foolish enough to let myself go and to make that kind of an irresponsible spectacle. I thought it was normal for someone of my age needing to have a weekend party like that. I just never realized what kind of repercussions it would have on me personally.

I went home that Monday afternoon to my new penthouse, empty and missing the one person I always felt comfortable with no matter what. But everything of his was gone. His penthouse we shared for a short period of time, his clothes, cologne… everything that reminded me of him. Because I just couldn’t deal with the daily reminders. They hurt.