Page 39 of Commit
“Nope. Kenzo did, that’s why I’m here watching the club. He said the guy seemed on the up and up. Kept his cool even when Kenzo got up in his face. Kenzo tried offering him a job working for him.” I grin. “The guy told him to fuck off. That he’d be a hypocrite, trying to keep the kids out of trouble if he just walked right into it.”
Atlas snorts. “That’ll just make Kenzo want him even more.”
“Kenzo said the guy was adamant. So don’t be surprised if he torches his gym, forcing him to get a side job to pay for the repairs.”
Atlas grins like the psycho he is.
A knock on the door has us both turning. “Come in,” Atlas calls out.
The door opens to reveal a nervous-looking Diamond. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Close the door and have a seat.”
Diamond does as he asks, tension radiating off her. She walks over to one of the chairs facing the desk. She’s dressed in workout clothes instead of the usual sequins and feathers, but that doesn’t stop her from putting a little extra sway in her hips.
For the most part, the women here know and respect Ivy, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t poised and ready for when Atlas gets tired of her and starts looking for a new favorite.
“Mace Downey,” Atlas says when she sits down.
I hear her gulp from here. “He’s just a friend.”
“I don’t want to hear your bullshit. No friend hangs around until three a.m. unless they’re getting something from you.”
“And this is why you don’t have friends,” I mutter under my breath, earning a glare from Atlas.
“There are no boyfriends or just friends you like to fuck welcome on my premises when you’re working. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” He pauses for a moment, leaning back. “The father of your kids, he still in the picture?”
She rubs her hands on her thighs and nods. “He has visitation rights every other week, so I can’t just take them and run,” she whispers, making me sit up and watch her.
“He a good dad?” I ask.
She hesitates before answering, “Yeah, he loves them, gives them everything I financially can’t, and shows up on time.”
“That doesn’t make him a good dad. That makes him a dad. That’s what’s expected of him—bare minimum. A good dad wouldn’t threaten the mother of his kids or put his hands on her. And I can say this because I’m a shitty father.”
Her eyes fill with tears. I get the impression she’s one of those moms who bites her tongue around her kids so she doesn’t paint their father out to be the bad guy, as his words and actions slowly kill her.
I look at Atlas, whose eyes are on me. He nods. “Give me his name and address, and I’ll handle it.”
She bites her lip, hesitant, but her love for her kids outweighs her fear of Atlas. “If you threaten him, he’ll blame me and take me back to court. He has more money than me. He’s a lawyer, like his father and brother. That’s how he walked away without paying a cent in alimony and kept the house and cars.”
We wait her out until she sighs. “Adam Monnet. He lives in a gated community over on Beckett.” She grabs a pen and Post-it note from Atlas’s desk and writes the address down before handing it over to Atlas.
“Did you cheat?” Atlas asks her.
She shakes her head. “I know what people think. I take off my clothes for money, so I must be a whore. But I don’t do it for me. I do it for my kids. So they have a roof over their heads and food in their bellies. I’ll sacrifice my pride every single time just to see them smile.
“But I am not a whore.”
I smile. I like her. “This one’s on me,” I tell Atlas.
I don’t do many jobs for free, but sometimes I like to give back a little. We all have skeletons in our closets, but sometimes those bones are better off buried ten feet under us.
“There won’t be any blowback. But don’t bring any more boyfriends here. If you have an issue, you contact one of us.”