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Pretty Evil by Lexi Davis
Usually Geffen felt comfortable in high-profile places like this, but tonight he wanted to hide. As one of "the beautiful people" among the L.A. socialite circles, he was known to have impressive taste in women, but tonight all of that was blown to hell. He was looking good as usual, but his date was another story. If she stood on the side of the freeway, people would stop because this woman looked like a wreck. Geffen hoped he wouldn't run into anyone he knew, but that would be hard because Geffen knew a lot of people. His date had suggested this place. The restaurant had an indoor, under-the-floor stream filled with black and gold koi and covered by glass. A floor-to-ceiling aquarium, waterfall, and copper-topped bar added to its breathtaking ambience, but all Geffen could do was hold his breath as he walked his date over the small wooden bridge, ready to duck if anyone recognized him. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Cage," the maitre d' said, as Geffen and his date stood waiting in plain view of the whole restaurant while an attendant cleaned up a spill near their table. Aw damn, Geffen thought, as he brushed nonexistent lint from his Versace suit's lapel. Geffen was superclean and always GQ, dressed sharp like a razor with not a hair in his thin, trimmed mustache out of place and not a fingernail unfiled. He just needed a distraction, a reason to put his head down and try to hide, but he was too late. Three women sitting at a table a few feet across the marble floor spotted him. He didn't know them, but they were talking loudly, sipping on martinis and ragging on people as they walked by. Both Geffen and his date could hear every word they said. "Why is he with her, as fine as he is," one woman said. "Maybe the young brotha likes older women -- nothing wrong with that," said the second. "I know she gets a lot of candy on Halloween." "Quick, call the zoo and see if they're missing a llama." Geffen shot the attendant a hurry-your-ass-up look. When their table was finally ready, Geffen's date walked closer to the ladies' table. At first, Geffen thought she was showing off her 5 carat oval-shaped diamond ring, but turns out she was giving them her middle finger. Then she sat in her seat. Geffen tried to concentrate on reading the menu, and put his mind over the matter. The fellas were counting on him to convince this woman to give them a cut-rate investment loan to buy property. Geffen pulled a long-stemmed red rose from the table piece and handed it to her. "Tonight you look... indescribable." She batted her fake eyelashes and grinned at Geffen like he was a piece of meat and she hadn't eaten in twenty years. All Geffen could think about was how much older she looked here in the candlelight compared to when he had first met her at the bank that she owned. She had been dressed better, too, with not so much sagging skin showing. And who had done her makeup tonight? Cirque du Soleil? He tried hard to think of something positive. Umm, okay, nice, expensive teeth. "You really know how to treat a lady, Geffen, my sweetheart," she said in a low, guttural voice intended to be sexy but that sounded like a toad croaking. She opened her menu. "Umm, I'm so hungry. What looks good to you?" Not you, that's for sure. "The roasted lamb is always good," he said out loud. She asked the waiter, "What's your catch of the day?" While his date irritated the waiter with too many questions, Geffen smiled and tried to look patient. Don't order the baked potato. It'll take too long. Finally, she placed her order, then added, "Oh, and add a baked potato to that." After ordering his meal, Geffen asked the waiter to bring a Moët & Chandon right away. Then he started the conversation. "So tell me, how does a woman like you end up owning United Financial Funding Corporation, the second-largest lender of venture capital in Southern California?" "Geffen, that's business. I never mix business with pleasure. And just so there's no misunderstanding, tonight is strictly for pleasure." She slipped off her shoe, raised her foot beneath the table and rubbed the inside of his calf with her bare toe. She continued her exploration even as the waiter brought and poured their drink. "You're quite a flirt, too, I see." Geffen sipped his Moët. "I don't believe in wasting time, Geffen, my dear. Did you know they make a Viagra pill for women? I purchased a two-month supply." I bet your husband is glad he's dead right about now. To his relief, the waiter arrived with their food. But the meal's arrival did little to distract Geffen's horny dinner partner. "I'm hoping that a young man like you will be able to keep up, if you know what I mean." She reached over and rubbed his hand. Her fingers felt like withered tree branches. He set his fork down and politely withdrew his hand to use his napkin. "You are full of surprises," he said with a smile. "Yes, I am full of surprises. I bet you didn't know this about me." She leaned in close and whispered in his face, "I like rough sex." Oh, that's just nasty. Geffen cleared his throat to try to keep his dinner down. He emptied his champagne glass and smiled at her. She did a little shimmy-shake, another attempt to be sexy. I need some weed and a blindfold. She opened her mouth and wiggled her wrinkled tongue at him. Hell, hit me with a dart gun. Tranquilize my ass. "Waiter, check, please." In her town car, on their way to her Palisades home, she made it clear to Geffen what he would have to do in order to get the loan he wanted at half the interest rate that other banks had offered. Desperate for a moment alone to rethink his strategy, he asked her driver to stop at a 7-Eleven. He said he wanted to get a Wall Street Journal, but really he wanted to buy a pint of vodka and a Penthouse magazine for sexual inspiration. But mainly he wanted to call his friend, Rice Jordan. As he paid for his items, he flipped open his cell phone and called Rice. When his buddy answered, Geffen broke down, saying, "I can't do this shit, man." "Hold on. Calm down. Where's she at right now?" Geffen knew Rice would take his call, even though he was in the middle of his book signing at Barnes & Noble in Palmdale, California. Geffen had already told Rice about the bank owner who was sweet on him, and that tonight he was going to try to get them an investment loan by any means necessary. "She's in the car. I had her driver stop at Seven-Eleven so I could get some things. I'm trying to stall, man. I'm telling you, she ain't just old, she's an old freak. 'Bout the same age as that mummy on Tales of the Crypt." The cashier gave Geffen a weird look as he handed him his change. Geffen picked up his purchases and ducked into a corner of the store. "Rice, man, stop laughing." "Gef, I'm signing books, so I can't really talk right now -- " Geffen cut him off -- his problems were more important. "You ever spanked a skinny old freak before? Rice, what if something falls off her, man?" "Whaaaat?" "You know, what if I try to spank that ass and one of her old, skinny, wrinkled legs pop off?" "Man, you trippin'." "No, I'm serious. She's old. Her Social Security number is probably one." Rice could hardly talk for laughing. "This whole setup was your idea, remember? I told you it was wack, but you said you'd get us that loan by any means necessary." "But, Rice, pahtna, I can handle most any kind of pressure, but I didn't think it'd be like this, dawg. This woman right here would give Freddy Kruger nightmares." "Gef, you are straight-up trippin'. But, hey, if you can't do it, then call it off. Let's forget about that investment loan, forget about purchasing investment property, forget about making that money." "Money?" Money was always the buzzword for Geffen -- it never failed to pump him up and motivate him. Rice played him like a Spanish guitar. "Yeah, that money. You're the one who swore you'd do whatever it takes to become a multimillionaire in the next two years." Geffen closed his eyes real tight and thought about the money and all the things he wanted to do with it. Geffen had plans, big plans. He got his confidence back. "Okay, man, I can do this. I'm going to get us that loan -- I don't care what it takes. I'll spank her till her legs, eyes, teeth -- everything -- pop off." Rice said, "Don't get carried away now." "I'm going to get us that investment loan so we live like the royal-blooded Africans that we are. I can't give up on my dream of owning a Fortune 500 company, and this is the first step." "Right. Think about that when she asks you to bite her." "What?" "I'm just messing with you. Hey, Gef, just do the damn thang," Rice said. Geffen straightened his Versace collar and strutted back down the aisle of the 7-Eleven, cell phone to his ear. "I got this. I'm going to buy some ACE bandages." "Bandages? For what?" "To wrap her old mummy-ass up, so won't nothing fall off." He called to the checker, "Hey, Saddam, where're the ACE bandages?" Rice couldn't stop laughing. "Gef, go handle your business. I gotta go. Call me later, but spare me the gory details. I ain't tryin' to hear about you getting busy with the Crypt Keeper. Oh, and don't forget, tomorrow's Sunday. We promised our girl Sunnie we'd show up for church, right?" Geffen asked anxiously, "She found us a place?" "She said she did, but I don't know if I believe her." "She can't lie to get us in church. That'd be sacrilegious or something like that." "Let's just show up and see," Rice said. "We'll know she's lying if she gets too close to the altar and spontaneously combusts." Geffen threw the ACE bandages on the checkout counter. "Man, if I go through this, she'd better have us a property tomorrow. Yeah, I'll be at church." "Okay, cool. And hey, you might wanna pick up some superglue, too, in case those bandages don't work." "Yeah, you got jokes. What eva." Geffen hung up, paid the cashier, and walked out the door. He stopped and thought about his mother, and how he'd move her grave site to a better place if he got this loan and some property. This one's for you, Ma. He pulled the pint of vodka out of the bag, opened it, and kicked back a fourth of the bottle. Geffen never drank strong alcohol -- he valued his brain cells too much -- but this qualified as special circumstances. He was willing to sacrifice one or two brain cells for a multimillion-dollar venture. • • •Pretty Evil: Part 1 | Pretty Evil: Part 2 | Order Prety Evil |
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