Fix It Up - Mary Calmes Page 0,10

scatter when you turned on the light in the kitchen—which I’d only experienced with my first apartment in Hyde Park. People stood up, left their drinks where they were, left cigarettes and joints burning in ashtrays and coke piled up on mirrors. The party must not have been going on long, because as far as I could tell, no one was too stoned, or too drunk, to move. There was only a quick exodus, with people repeating the threat of a raid, and everyone bolting, no matter where they’d been hiding.

Walking back to the kitchen, across the Italian travertine floor, through the crowd in a rush to leave, I made it back to Brent, who was staring at me in wonder.

“I need a cleaning crew in here now,” I told him.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

“Just Loc,” I corrected him flatly. “And I need to see those bodyguards.”

“They’re all with Nick in the pleasure room.”

I didn’t even want to know. “Which is where?” I asked, already feeling the headache coming on.

“Down by the pool, there’s a cabana,” he explained sheepishly. “You can’t miss it.”

“Again, cleaning crew here now,” I insisted, raising my voice a bit so he’d understand that I was serious.

“Absolutely,” he replied quickly.

The crowd was thinning, which was good, and I went out the back, admiring the view as well as the wide patio with patchwork concrete tile and wood furniture that sat under a gorgeous canopy of ancient oak trees. Farther out, there was a cactus garden and a rush of colors as I walked down the wide natural stone steps that ran through the terraced yard full of lilac and California poppies, morning glory and wildflowers. There were string lights wrapped around smaller trees, and some of those were citrus—tangerine, lemon, and pomelo—and pear trees, as well as a lone avocado. There was a wide flagstone walkway that led through a small area of lavender and purple hyssop before, as you neared the pool area, more foxgloves, petunias, and sweet potato vines.

At the pool, there was a stamped concrete patio surrounded by natural rock retaining walls and more wildflowers and foliage. It was an oasis. The place was meant to be a retreat, and Nick Madison was allowing the people in his life to treat it, and by association, him, like a dumpster. I passed annoyed at that moment, as I walked around the pool to the giant cabana, and by the time I threw open the gauzy curtains and stepped into the space, I was fuming.

There were people on every available surface, drinking, smoking, snorting, fucking, and in each corner of the room was a bodyguard. The guy closest to me came forward, and I pulled my ID.

“I’m Locryn Barnes from Torus,” I told him, and because every single time I’d gone into a situation like this I’d gotten pushback, attitude, argument, and even physical aggression, I was floored when he gave me a nod, glanced at the others, and all of them, at once, took a collective breath and waited for orders. Clearly, I wasn’t the only one Nick’s guests were annoying.

“I need these people out,” I said, and the guard in the back killed the music, so there was blessed silence, except for the grunting and whining and mewling that went along with sex.

“Who the fuck are you?” one naked guy yelled, lurching toward me.

The bodyguard to my right put him facedown on the ground, which I appreciated, as I didn’t want any fluids on me.

Walking over to the oversized ottoman, I noted that there was a guy on his back with a woman sitting on his face, another woman bent over him, sucking his dick, and behind her, fucking her, was a guy who I thought was Nick Madison but, on closer inspection, was not.

Turning, I looked to the bodyguard closest to me. “Is Mr. Madison out here?”

“Around the side,” he told me. “It’s why we’re keeping everyone in here. That’s what he asked us to do.”

Of course he had. Why should the party stop just because, it sounded like at least, the host didn’t want to be part of it?

Walking back out and around the cabana to the left, I found a chaise in the shade where Nick Madison himself was sprawled out, naked and unconscious.

Christ.

I understood my mistake from moments ago. The guy who I had thought resembled the rock star would have, if Nick Madison were at all healthy. Unfortunately, it was glaringly obvious that he was not. He looked like a