Mikala's Passion (Pulse Series Book 2) (8 page)

She ran.

Luckily Carl had come in ahead of her and received the liquor order, they had unloaded it into her office and Carl was securing the door when she arrived.

“I tried texting you honey, where have you been?”

“It’s a long story Carl, that I don’t wish to get into right now,” Mikala said, wiping sleep from her eyes, “I forgot to charge my phone.”

“Is that the excuse of the day?” Carl asked.

Mikala spun round to face him, anger searing her gaze, “Watch it Carl, I’m not in the mood to spar with you.”

“He’s called here at least five times,” Carl broadcast, grabbing the broom from behind the bar.

“Who,” Mikala asked, watching as Carl poked a hole in the ceiling above the bar and water streamed to the floor.

“You know exactly who, he’s sick worried because you disappeared.” Carl poked another hole and jumped back, “Where are you staying Mik? At least one of us should know just in case.”

“Just in case?” she laughed, “I’m staying at Edgehill,
just in case
you need know. But you keep your fucking mouth shut,” she cautioned, pointing her finger in his face for good measure.

“Honey, you couldn’t find a shittier place to stay? The roaches rule the place, you know this right?” he squirmed.

“It’s clean and affordable,” she said.

“It’s a dive, come stay with me.” Carl offered.

“You live in a one room bachelor,”

“It’s cozy, with all the amenities.”

“Thanks for the offer babe, but I’m good,” she said, as he raised a skeptical brow. “Really, I’m okay.”

Mikala went to her office gathering up paperwork she needed to deal with immediately. There were orders to cancel as well as appointments to reschedule, and a list of clientele she needed to contact in regards to upcoming bookings. It was going to be a day spent with a phone tucked under her chin and countless disappointed voices she had to listen to, but it had to be done and being the owner put the entire weight on her shoulders.

“And what do I tell Mr. I’ll-squish-you-like-a-grape when he asks me where you are?” Carl asked, pulling a large garbage can over to the bar and filling it with sopping wet bar towels and paper napkins, “I don’t have a death wish and I’m sure as fuck not lying to the guy.”

“Let’s try to remember who signs your paychecks,” Mikala joked. “Say whatever you have to but the name Edgehill better not cross your lips.”

“I thought you’d be happy to see Mason again,” Carl said, as he watched her stuff paperwork haphazardly into her briefcase, “I take it paradise is lost?”

“Carl, pull your head out of your ass,” Mikala snarled. “Paradise doesn’t exist, never did. I don’t live in a fantasy world, reality is all I know and at the moment it’s fucking ugly.”

Carl laughed, “Such bitterness wrapped in a beautiful package.”

“Fuck off Carl,” Mikala said, throwing her purse over her shoulder walking to the door, “call me on my cell if you need me.”

“Mik, at least send him a text to let him know you’re alright!” Carl yelled, as she walked out the door and the bar’s phone started ringing.

Caller ID was a wonderful invention, too bad the bar’s phone didn’t have it as Carl walked over and lifted the receiver. “Pulse,”

“Hey Carl, its Mason, is she there?” Mason asked.

Carl looked to the sky as he puffed out the breath he was holding. “Been and gone, sorry.”

“Let me guess,” Mason asked. “You know where she is but she threatened you with death if you tell me?”

“That would be a yes,” Carl laughed.

“I’m not going to press you,” Mason vowed. “I’m just happy she’s not lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Mik’s fine, stubborn as fuck, but just fine.” Carl assured him.

“Thanks,” Mason said, as he took a much needed deep breath. “Like I said ten times before, if you see her tell her to call me.”

“I did and I will,” Carl said. “Don’t give up on her; she’ll come to her senses sooner or later.”

“I have no intention of giving up,” Mason announced. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

The line went silent. Carl took his cell from his hip pocket and sent a text before resuming cleanup.

You can be such a bitch, the man’s worried out of his head. I’m going to tell him where you are if he asks again. C.

If you value your life you’ll quit fucking with me douchebag! M.

***

Clean up was well under way when Mason arrived at Pulse. A dumpster at the curb was near to full with burnt wood and rubble. Scorched furniture and drywall from the apartment and water logged sofas that were once beautiful and inviting, were now a reminder of what was. Workmen carried 2x4’s and new drywall past him as the place hummed with noise. Hammers, electric saws and drills resonated through the building. As Mason stepped inside, he was handed a bright yellow hardhat and pushed aside, while workers scrambled up the stairs to the club entrance.

Chase was going over drawings with the site foreman Scott, and Mikalas at the bar in the dance club area. Mikala had a smile on her face and nodded her head in agreement about something Chase was pointing out. It was good to see her happy, he hadn’t seen but a few fleeting smiles on her face since his return. He caught only the tail end of the conversation between Chase and Scott, but by the enthusiastic hand shake he surmised it to be a good thing.

“So you’re okay with this, Mik?” Chase asked. “It’s your place. I don’t want to be stepping on any toes here.”

“Hell yeah, are you kidding?” Mikala shoulder butted Chase. “If you’re sure you want to spend that kind of money I’m not going to say no.”

Chase held out a hand and they shook like a major negotiation had just gone down and the smile on Mikala’s face was cemented on.

“You and Scott go on ahead and we’ll meet you up there,” Chase said, turning to Mason as the pair donned their hardhats and walked out of site with the plans in hand.

Mason raised his brows in silent question.

“Are you going to tell me what went down the other night?” Chase asked.

Mason shrugged his shoulders and poured coffee into a Styrofoam cup from a machine that had been set up on the bar as a temporary canteen for the workers. He peeked into a box of donuts and assorted muffins disinterested. He added powdered creamer and took a sip. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The fuck you don’t,” Chase helped himself to a coffee and the lid of a muffin, throwing the bottom back into the box where other abandoned muffin bottoms lay like testament that muffin tops rocked. “Mik came in here with a smile on her face that I haven’t seen in a long, long time. Did you two have sex? Because I’m telling you,”

“Calm your shit, I didn’t fuck Mikala,” Mason blurted out, “she saw the tattoo. Not that it’s any of your fucking business if I did fuck her. She took off some time during the night,” he said, sadly, “so that smile has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry…it’s probably not my place to say, but if you aren’t in it for the long haul get out now, she’s been through enough. You both have.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mason announced, as he stepped closer, distracting Chase with the blueprints. “So what’s the plan?” He nodded toward the stairs where Mikala and Scott had disappeared, his aim to change the subject.

Chase stared closely at his friend with a skeptical glare that took a few moments to pass. “We’re turning the fourth floor into Mik’s new apartment…let’s go up, Scott’s got the apartment plans.”

“An elevator would be a fuck of an idea,” Mason said, when they reached the top step and looked around the open space.

The room was a builder’s delight. Untouched skeletal walls, floors and ceilings meant it was only a matter of insulating, erecting interior walls, installing plumbing, electrical wiring and dry wall. Once it was given a slap of paint and some carpet was laid, voila, a new apartment in just a few short weeks. Mason’s heart tightened when he realized his time with Mikala was being cut shorter, not only because she had bolted, but thanks to his best friend’s brilliant idea and endless monetary generosity, she wouldn’t need him.

“The elevator goes over there, private of course and I want it secured. A camera maybe with a pin pad code?” He turned to Mason when he got no response. “You listening, jackass?”

“I hear you.” Mason snapped.

“Why so glum?” Chase asked.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugged Chase’s inquiry off. “Let’s see these plans?”

The four of them talked over what was and wasn’t possible, what was overboard and what Mikala could and couldn’t live without. Her needs were not overly demanding. Chase seemed more concerned with modern conveniences and all the frills than she did.

Mason couldn’t help watching her every move, fixed on her every word.

She asked for a small kitchenette by one of the windows so she could have a breakfast nook; she always wanted a breakfast nook. But the one thing she really wanted from the Reno and wasn’t budging on was an old fashioned claw style tub, she said big enough for two but quickly looked away when Mason’s eyes met hers.

Since she was busying herself with anything too avoid talking to Mason, he went downstairs to begin working, but he was determined that he was not leaving the building until they talked.

Mason sat at a lone table off to the side of the bar area downstairs with a clean set of plans and roughed in the security system for the dance club and private club. The new elevator demanded a bit more planning. Mikala needed access to the elevator from all four floors and it had to be accessible by staff, but the apartment needed to be accessible only by her with its own code.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the third floor. The floor of private rooms needed security, yes, but it also had to assure complete privacy for it patrons. Accomplishing both without the threat of law suits was something he dealt with on a regular basis; however this came with an entire set of new rules. The people that were going to be frequenting these rooms were not your average Joe’s. They were Celebrities, politicians, well-to-dos with money to burn and the means with which to ruin those that stood in their way. These were influential people this club could ruin with rumors alone and in turn they could destroy this club and Mikala. Why she took the risk he would never understand.

“What are the plans?”

Mason looked up to see Mikala standing looking over his shoulder with two mugs. He directed her to sit and she handed him a fresh coffee.

“Thanks.”

“It still smells terrible in here,” she said, scrunching her nose and taking a sip from her mug.

“It won’t for much longer. Before you know it will all be finished,” he answered, finding his disappointment hard to conceal.

“Yeah, I’ll be moved back in here soon by the sounds of it,” she said.

He thought for a second that he detected a tiny shred of disappointment in her tone, although a cheer returned to her voice when she noticed his stare. “Chase really knows what a girl wants, the apartments going to be great. He even wants to open up a wall and put in two of those big windows like you have in the loft,” she smiled, but he could not manage a smile to match hers.

“That’s nice, sugar.”

“It’s great!”

“The whole place will be like new, I’m happy for you.” He realized he was avoiding the subject of her vanishing act during the night, as much as she was.

She narrowed her brow and her jaw pushed forward. “As long as you’re happy,” she stood and snatched their mugs from the table. “See you around.”

“Sugar…”

“Don’t fucking call me that,” she called out, as she stormed off to the kitchen.

“Pissed again,” he said, quietly. Always managing to fuck up when it came to Mikala, he thumped his fist on the table and bent to pick up the pencil that tumbled to the floor. When he sat back up he was met by Eden’s angry scowl. What had started as a horrible day was only getting worse by the minute; he wondered why he even bothered to get out of bed.

“And what have I done to you, sweetheart?” he asked sarcastically, before thinking and watched her chin tuck in and her one brow raise dramatically.

“Don’t take an attitude with me mister,” she warned, pointing her finger and poking his shoulder. Eden wasn’t the least bit intimidated but Mason’s size or Alpha-male demeanor, she had Chase and him equally wrapped around her pinky.

“I fucked up again, sorry. Chase is upstairs with Scott, I think they’re going over details for the apartment,” he said.

“I know where Chase is, I also know where Mik is and that she’s not happy with you, what now?”

He shook his head and rubbed the eraser end of his pencil over the page he was trying to busy himself with, “I opened my mouth and spoke? No wait…I took a breath,” he attempted sarcasm again and only managed to get a swift slap across his bicep.

“Stop being an asshole, Mason.”

“I’ve tried, sweetheart, but it all comes out wrong. My best bet is to shut the fuck up. Maybe I should have stayed gone, Mik sure as hell would have been better off. At least then she wouldn’t feel the need to run and hide from me.”

He stood and rolled up the blueprints, leaned forward and gave Eden a peck on the cheek before leaving the room without so much as a goodbye.

The kitchen gleamed, the stainless steel sparkling in all its glory. To look at this room you would not have a clue that there had ever been a fire in the place. Being at the rear of the club the kitchen and office were spared any and all damage, all it needed was a good cleaning to rid it of the smell of smoke. The kitchen team had worked for hours to get it perfect, now busy wrapping the entire room and its contents in plastic so the dust from the Reno had nowhere to settle.

“Mik, we need to talk,” Eden announced, pulling Mikala from her supervisory position in the kitchen and out to the dance area, where they would have privacy.

“This thing with you and Mason has to stop. Forgive him or don’t, but let him know either way because this isn’t fair to him or you.”

Mikala walked behind the bar and unscrewed the lid from a bottle of Polar Ice vodka and took a long draw before settling her eyes on a waiting Eden. Her friend was angry, her friend was right it was time to forgive, but she would never forget.