Chapter 6: No Rest For The Weary
No sooner had he gotten out of the taxi than he got an alert that his anonymous card had received a payment.
He looked at it and smiled. Meredith’s husband really is prompt.
Max looked at the payment he received for letting Meredith’s husband know she was cheating on him.
He liked the money, but he regretted not being able to orgasm before he burst through the door.
Still, he walked back to the apartment quite proud of himself.
He didn’t have anything else on his schedule for the rest of the day and felt he deserved some much-needed rest.
Max couldn’t wait to tear his clothes off. He practically ran into the shower. He was still half-hard and needed to take the edge off.
When he was done, he left the bathroom completely relaxed. He didn’t even bother with clothes. He fell onto the bed and closed his eyes.
A comfortable sigh, and he felt like he was drifting off to sleep. In the next second, his phone let out a blaring sound. He was receiving a call.
He grabbed the phone, ready to toss it, but he remembered he still needed money. Don’t break it. You need it. He repeated to himself. He couldn’t break it. Even if Meredith gave him a shit ton of money, it didn’t completely cover his debts.
He still needed to work.
He took a deep breath. The caller was Rebecca. He sat up. Rebecca wasn’t like Meredith, clingy and intrusive. She was a competent woman with her own business. Investments. A divorcee.
"Rebecca," Max answered, his tone calm and controlled.
There was none of the coaxing in his voice like when he spoke to Meredith. He and Rebecca Harding have a standing order. He would accompany her when she went out with friends, acting as a chauffeur, a boyfriend, or whatever she needed him to be for that night.
"Max," came a cool voice. "Some girlfriends and I are going out for drinks tonight. I’ll send the driver to you at 7. Wear the black button-down, dark jeans are fine."
"Any special scent for tonight?"
"Hmm. Something earthy. You decide."
With that, she hung up.
Max looked at the time. It was already close to three. He had four hours before the driver would be here.
He sent a quick message to Stacey asking her to make something for him, then he sent her some money.
This was their usual routine. If Max had to have a long night out, he would ask Stacey to cook instead of ordering take-out. And since they were going for drinks, he needed to pad his stomach.
After sending the message, he set an alarm, then closed his eyes and went to sleep.
In Stacey and Cassie’s apartment, they were catching up on old times in Cassie’s room when Stacey’s phone vibrated.
"Tch. Always wanting to eat," she grumbled.
"Who is it?" Cassie asked.
"Max from next door. He asked me to make something. He’s going out tonight and doesn’t have time to cook."
Cassie’s brow furrowed. "Why would you cook for him? Is he trying to take advantage of you?"
"Standing order," Stacey says casually. She shook the phone in front of Cassie’s face. "Plus, he pays me."
Cassie saw the transfer and clicked her tongue. While it wasn’t a huge sum, it was enough to buy groceries for the week.
"Where does he work?" Cassie asked tentatively.
"No clue." Stacey shrugged. "I only know expensive cars come to pick him up when he goes out at night."
Stacey sidled up to Cassie and wrapped an arm around her neck. She pulled her closer and whispered. "I think he might be rich. He has all these expensive clothes, watches, and colognes. He gets picked up by a chauffeur. Sometimes you don’t see him for days."
Cassie rolled her eyes. "If he’s rich, why would he live here? Don’t rich people have their own villas and mansions? He should be living in one of those places."
"Maybe he’s undercover? Whatever it is, he must have a reason for staying here." She licked her top lip. "If he gave me a chance, I would definitely go for it."
"Maybe you shouldn’t. Don’t rich people look down on people like us?" Cassie muttered.
"What do you mean, people like us?" Stacey released Cassie, turning to her. She flipped her pushed out her chest and moved her hand along her body. "Do you see this? I am a beautiful, talented woman that any man would be lucky to have. If I snap my fingers, I could be a rich man. It’s because I’m having fun; otherwise, I wouldn’t even look at him."
"Alright, alright," Cassie hugged her, calming her down. "Let’s forget about him. Let’s talk about me."
Cassie took a sketchbook from her suitcase and handed it to Stacey. "Take a look at these and tell me what you think."
Stacey looked at the various sketches; in some, she only saw lines, curves, and angles. She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Then they moved away from angles and became something more concrete, until she could see the complete picture.
"This is nice, Cass, it looks like a fancy lobby. What’s up with the other stuff before this one?"
"This is a complete drawing," Cassie said, smile blooming. She turned the page to the previous drawing. "This is the one you should look at."
She took out a fine pen and shaded a corner of the drawing. "See how I angled the walls? It’s a forced perspective. When people step in through the revolving doors, what they see is a sliver of the bar. They don’t see the entire lounge.
It’s a journey. From seeing a small part to finding that your view gets wider the more you walk. It builds anticipation. Guests don’t just walk through the lobby, they experience it."
Stacey nodded, squinting, "Ok, I get that. So, what’s this grid thing?"
"That’s a lighting schematic for the floor." Cassie became more animated. "I read that high-end casinos and elite lounges use sensory manipulation. If they use backlit alabaster with uneven lighting, the light will look like it’s pulsing. It resembles the heart, beating slowly. People will take a deep breath, slow down, stay just a little longer, and maybe, they’ll buy a drink."
She turned another page, "This one is for acoustic paneling. Instead of hiding the sound baffles, I made them look like art pieces. If they put velvet on the banquettes, it can absorb high frequencies, like clinking glass. It will make the place feel more intimate."
Stacey listened to Cassie talk. The more she listened, the more confused she became.
"Hey, hey, hey, Cass," she put a hand on Cassie to stop her from turning another page. "I know you’re passionate about this, but I don’t understand a word you’re saying."
"Ah?" Cassie tilted her head before coming to her senses. "Sorry." She closed the book, quickly stuffing it back into the suitcase.
"I never said you need to put it back, I just said I didn’t understand."
Cassie ran a hand through her hair, embarrassed. "Sorry, when I talk about this stuff at home, they usually get angry."
"It’s fine. So this is why you came? You want to work with those building people to make these things?"
Cassie nodded enthusiastically, looking like a puppy.
"It’s going to be hard, Cass, you know that, right?"
"I know, but I still have to try."
"Alright. Good luck." Stacey shrugged. "Let’s go start on dinner. We have a bottomless pit to feed later."
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