CW: Stripping, sex work, smut, mentions of violence against women, drug use, and misogyny.
It's late by the time James steps into the church, his shoes clicking gently on the wooden floor. The building is dark, stuffy, and smells like a mixture of must and bleach. Still, it feels like a home he hasn't been back to in a long time. He grew up in this church. He was an altar boy, but now the space feels vaguely unfamiliar. James is a lapsed Catholic and has been since he was a teenager.
He knows Father Paul will be here, like an old friend. The old man disagrees with his methods and lifestyle, but it's not his place to judge - that's up to God, he says.
James is not even sure he believes in God anymore. Given everything he's seen, it feels like there's nothing beyond this earthly realm but darkness. No pearly gates, no penance, no angels singing and welcoming you into heaven with trumpets and harps.
We just eat, breathe, fuck, kill, and expire. That's it.
It's kind of depressing, but at the same time, it's what makes life so precious.
To James, it feels like God was invented as a source of comfort rather than guidance. He doesn't begrudge anyone that, but if there is a power greater than himself, James has never experienced its kindness, nor its wrath.
Still, old habits die hard, and James feels the need to get something off his chest. He'll sleep better; he won't have to take those pills.
He approaches the confessional and unbuttons his suit jacket, placing it gently on a nearby pew. Deft fingers roll up his shirt sleeves, revealing lean, but muscular forearms. He has a few tattoos on his fingers and thumbs, but otherwise, his arms are a blank canvas, and he likes it that way. The tattoos on his fingers can be covered by rings. James steps into the confessional and drops to his knees. A small door slides open and he sees Father Paul's furrowed brow and bulbous nose come into view. He looks like a painting in the low light.
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen," James whispers, his head dropping as he makes the sign of the cross.
Father Paul's silence is an indication for him to continue.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been a month since my last confession."
He cracks his knuckles. They're covered in swollen cuts that, as of this morning, were oozing with blood. He had to bandage them before a meeting with Tony Stark.
James examines the gashes and exhales softly. They're caused by teeth marks from the men he beat and pistol-whipped yesterday - no one important, just two low-level LA gangbangers who refused to get out of his turf. He offered them a deal, they told him to go fuck himself. So, he did what he had to do.
Nobody says no to James Barnes.
"I killed a man yesterday - two men, actually. I know you know better than to go to the cops, Father. I'm the reason this church is still standing." He chuckles. "It's funny, you're supposed to have the power in this exchange. You'll tell me how to cleanse my soul, but I keep your lights on."
There's a long pause. James pays the church's rent because it's the place his parents got married. The city was going to rezone and redevelop it five years ago - turn it into more high-priced condos. James couldn't let them do that, and he wanted the tax break. So, he bought the land and saved the parish. Father Paul owes him a life debt, and James can come into this confessional and say whatever he wants without consequence. It's a good trade off.
"Son, did you come here to brag, or to confess?" Father Paul croaks.
"Sorry, Father... My problem isn't with what I did. I've reconciled with that, and I know my nature. My problem is, I didn't feel anything when I did it. No remorse, no anger, not even the thrill I used to get when I was younger." He scoffs. "And I'm not even that old. I'm 36, for Christ's sake-"
"Watch your language," Father Paul snaps.
"Sorry, Father."
"James, what are you asking me?"
"I'm asking you if you still think I have a soul."
James doesn't know why he's asking this. He's tried to run it over in his mind and couldn't come up with a logical answer, so maybe the problem is spiritual.
Father Paul draws in a deep breath.
"That's quite the philosophical question."
"Yeah, well, I figured I'd take it to the expert," James replies. "Ever think you'd be counselling a mafia boss about the current state of his soul?"
"This job is full of surprises," Father Paul whispers. "And ethical dilemmas - James, I don't think this is about your soul. I think it's about your psychology."
"What do you mean?"
"You've become conditioned to taking a life. That's not something a lot of people get the chance to experience and you've been doing it since you were a teenager. I might be a priest, but my background is in psychology. The kind of violence you were exposed to and inflicted... that changes a person. It changes the wiring in your brain."
"So what do I do about it?"
"You want the thrill of killing back?" Father Paul asks with disbelief.
"It's more than that," James whispers. "I don't feel anything anymore. It's just numb."
Father Paul takes a deep inhale, his breath rattling as it's expelled through his nose.
"I think you need help, son. Real help. From a licensed professional."
James rolls his eyes. It's the answer he didn't want. Father Paul's other answer is probably prison; that doesn't interest him either. Not that it wouldn't be a cakewalk. He would end up running the place within 24 hours, it's just... there's no thrill in it.
"God won't help me?"
"Not with that," Father Paul croaks.
"What about my sins?"
"Well, murder is beyond saying a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers."
"Figured as much."
"James, I know you don't kill people that you don't have to, but you could try other methods. Softer methods."
He takes a deep breath.
"I do what I have to do."
"Then you'll have to live with that feeling."
It was the answer he was expecting, but he was hoping that his honesty would yield a different result. James nods and draws in a breath.
"Thank you, Father."
Without another word, he stands up and exits the confessional. Father Paul doesn't follow him. He knows that James is a lost cause.
James snatches his jacket off of the pew and slowly walks outside to where his car is waiting. He slides into the back seat next to Steve, pinching the bridge of his nose. Steve smirks at him, his perfectly manicured brows wiggling in the low light.
"Feel better?"
"No," James responds gruffly. "Parker?"
The baby-faced teenager turns around in the driver's seat.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"
"Drive."
"Sure thing, Mr. Barnes. Where are we going?"
James lifts a brow and turns to Steve, giving him a questioning look.
"The Whip," Steve remarks.
James rolls his eyes.
"Christ..."
"What? Walker wants to have a meeting there."
"The LAPD Chief at a strip club? Doesn't seem too smart."
"Yeah, well, Walker's a fuckin' idiot. Says he wants to talk about that shipment that's coming in on Friday night."
"Fuck," James whispers.
He already knows what this is going to be about. He'll offer James free drugs, free women, and free drinks just to get a bigger cut. He'll complain that the mayor isn't increasing his budget, that he needs more cops to keep people safe, even though the LAPD has their hands in some of the shadiest shit James has ever seen. If he's a monster, the cops are just as bad.
Steve pats James on the shoulder.
"Come on. Loosen up, man. You can get some ass."
"Sure," James mumbles. He leans back in his seat and lights a cigarette. Steve is on his phone, swiping through Tinder. He's messaging ten different women simultaneously right now, and hunting for more. James is exhausted just watching him.
That was something else he wanted to talk to Father Paul about. James hasn't felt anything about anything or anyone in a long time. Sex feels hollow. Steve says he's just not fucking the right women; James has no idea what that means. He had to explain to Steve that it wasn't about not getting off - he could do that easily.
"Then what's the problem?"
The problem is, he used to feel some kind of attachment, however brief. His heart used to flutter, his stomach used to fill with butterflies, he used to feel euphoric.
He could be tender and sweet, savoring soft kisses and beautiful moans. Now it's just fast, brutish, and empty. He's not cruel by any means. That's not his style when it comes to women. It's just that once he's finished, he just wants to be alone.
Steve says it's very Heathcliff of him, but Heathcliff didn't get laid very much.
Or, maybe he did. James never actually finished reading Wuthering Heights.
He blows a smoke ring as they cruise through the streets of Los Angeles, the air conditioned car providing them reprieve from the summer heat. James always tells himself that he's going to move to someplace cooler, but he never actually has the guts to leave. There's something about the inherent dangerousness of Los Angeles that keeps him here. This city will eat you alive and hollow you out completely. Sometimes, whether you let it or not. If you can stay on your feet long enough, you might have a shot at making it. James has always been determined to survive, by any means necessary.
The car pulls into the back parking lot of The Whip. Peter stays in the car and James hands him some cash while Steve lingers by the back door.
"In case you get hungry."
The kid's eyes go as wide as saucers. James always takes care of his own. It's what his father did.
Until he didn't.
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Barnes."
"Don't mention it. Just don't be away from the car for too long."
"Yes, Mr. Barnes. Thank you."
James offers him a curt nod and follows Steve inside through the back door. It's the fastest way to the VIP area. Walker is a co-owner of The Whip. It's one of the hottest spots in LA, if you've got enough money to get in the door.
When they find him, he's surrounded by women, and a couple of his lackeys. James has never bothered to learn their names. He didn't even want to learn Walker's name until he had to start dealing directly with the LAPD. They came to talk to him at his office about his late night escapades, and Walker offered him a deal: give him a cut, or go to jail. James made the smartest decision he's ever made in his life.
But he can't fucking stand John Walker. The guy has got a face James would like to cave in with the butt of a rifle.
"Ah! Gentlemen!" Walker sighs as he taps the thigh of the girl on his lap.
She slides off of him and he stands up, reaching over to shake their hands. James offers a tight-lipped smile. There's something about Walker that he doesn't like. He's gotten very good at reading people.
"I was starting to wonder if you got my invitation."
"Had to take care of some personal business first," Steve replies.
Steve is the talker between the two of them. Sometimes James just likes to wind him up and watch him go. He can talk his way out of pretty much anything, whereas James tends to intimidate his way out of anything. Steve has that bright, California boy face that makes women melt. They're a good match, and when they're on the prowl for women, nobody stands a chance.
Walker urges them to sit, telling one of the girls to go and get them a few bottles of whiskey. As she passes James, he notices a fresh bruise on her arm in the shape of a handprint. He reaches out and grabs her by the wrist, pulling her toward him. The girl's eyes are wide and filled with fear. James's eyes darken and he glances at Walker, who is fishing in his pocket for a cigarette.
"Did he do that to you?" He whispers.
"I have to go and get Mr. Walker's drinks," she says softly.
The look on her face tells James everything he needs to know. He's heard rumors from some of the girls here about Walker's temper, but he's never seen it for himself until now. He lets her go and makes a mental note of it, and the 9mm in his suit jacket. All he has to do is turn the safety off.
James and Steve sit down on the couch adjacent to Walker. James leans back and puts his hands behind his head, spreading his legs. One of the girls walks over to him. She's timid at first, but very pretty. He smiles at her and licks his lips as he looks her up and down. Dark hair, brown eyes, beautiful skin, and an ass he'd like to sink his teeth into.
He reaches out a hand and pulls her into his lap. This might be Walker's club, the second James walks in, most of the eyes are on him. He can feel the other girls watching him. Another girl approaches Steve and he practically snatches her by the waist. She giggles. Walker arches an eyebrow.
"Talk, Walker," James commands as the girl in his lap grinds against him. He pulls a hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and sticks it into her g-string. "I don't wanna be here all night."
"Oh, come on, Barnes. Loosen up for once in your life," Walker laughs.
"You said you wanted to talk business," Steve pipes up. "My boss's time is precious. So, let's talk."
"Fine," Walker sighs. "I'll cut right to the chase. I want a bigger share of the profits from your shipments."
"How much bigger?" Steve asks as James glares at Walker, his jaw clenching and unclenching quickly.
"Twenty percent."
James and Steve exchange an amused glance. Right now, he's already getting ten percent of their drug shipment profits.
"You're joking," James chuckles.
"I'm not."
"Fuck off, Walker."
The girl on top of James finishes her dance and sits beside him, hanging off of him and pushing her hands through his short hair. He grasps her hand and presses her knuckles to his lips, staring at her. She blushes. James can feel Walker's intense stare and he smiles. He uses this intimidation tactic on other men a lot - and Walker looks fucking furious. This girl must be one of his favorites.
"Suzy, come over here," Walker insists.
"Suzy, stay where you are, sweet thing," James whispers, handing her another hundred dollar bill and sticking it underneath her bra strap. She smirks at him and giggles. Her pupils are huge. She must be stoned.
He looks over at Walker and grins.
"You're not getting twenty percent. You take twenty percent of my profits and I don't have enough money to run my goddamn business."
"You own a chain of hotels that pay for themselves," Walker reminds him. "Don't think I haven't looked at your books."
"You haven't looked at shit," Steve laughs.
Walker lights a cigarette, his eyes still on James's interactions with Suzy. He's pretending he's not bothered by James's hand sliding up the thigh of his favorite girl. She's biting down on a plump red bottom lip, her eyes burning a hole in James.
"I need you to hear me out," Walker begs. "The mayor-"
"Cut your budget, yeah yeah, we hear this every time you need more cash from us," Steve laughs. "You've gotta get a new sob story."
"If you're hard up for cash, you could always start using the profits from this place," James suggests.
"I can't keep that trail clean."
"Because you're a shitty fuckin' criminal," Steve mutters. "Does your wife know about this when it comes time to file your taxes?"
He wiggles his eyebrows and laughs. James smirks. It's cute to watch Walker think he has any sort of leverage in this situation. They're on his turf, but they're playing a game that James is far more familiar with.
Walker snarls and leans forward, clutching his drink so tightly in his hands that the glass starts to crack.
"Barnes, I brought you here out of the kindness of my heart. I'm giving you free booze and all the pussy you could ask for. You won't even bother to hear me out."
"We don't need to hear you out, you fuckrag-"
"Stevie... please," James whispers, holding out a hand to cut him off.
James is usually the hothead in their friendship. He once pulled a gun on a guy during a board meeting because he wouldn't stop chewing his gum with his mouth open. That awful smacking sound echoed through the room and got on James's last goddamn nerve. Steve laughed, but ultimately talked him down while Sam sat by shaking his head.
Walker grins.
"You both need me or you're nothing."
"That's far from the truth, Walker, and you know it," Steve growls. "We could crush your entire goddamn department-"
James leans over the back of the couch and looks at the girl in his best friend's lap. He reaches into his coat pocket and tosses her another hundred dollar bill.
"Keep him occupied, will you? Make him come in his pants or something."
The girl in Steve's lap begins to grind down on him and Steve bites down on his lip. His eyes close and James knows he has at least a few minutes to shoot Walker down. Twenty percent of his profits is fucking outrageous. James's lip curls into a snarl and he has to keep himself from reaching into his jacket and putting a bullet right between his eyes.
Shooting the Chief of police is bad for business.
Not once does his brain tell him it's morally wrong.
He left morals behind long ago.
"Walker, twenty percent is outrageous."
"It's what I need," Walker replies. "I can't get the cash from anywhere else."
"You could request a bigger budget from the mayor."
"Those things take time, Barnes. There's all this red tape. If I get the money from you, it's faster. Consider it a new business venture - or a loan!"
"That you have no intention of paying back."
Walker growls, his gaze hardening.
"I let you run this city. Don't ever forget that."
"You don't let us do anything. You're a fucking parasite, Walker. The only reason you're still the Chief of Police is because the whole city thinks you're a wholesome family man. You project this perfect image, but deep down, you've always wanted to be like me. Being a corrupt cop is the closest your sweet little Catholic upbringing will let you get to the bad guys without giving you the chance to be one." James tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. "Have I read you correctly?"
"Fuck you," Walker spits. "I can shut your entire operation down with one finger." He looks at Suzy, snapping his fingers at her. "Hey! Sweetheart! Go find Lily and our fuckin' drinks."
Suzy pushes herself off of the couch and scurries away. Bucky clenches his fists but says nothing as he watches her wander toward the bar.
"You can't shut us down if you're dead," James says nonchalantly. The threat doesn't seem to work. Walker's getting better at this. In the beginning, all it took was one little threat to intimidate him. Bucky examines his fingernails, picking a piece of dried blood out from underneath them. "I don't mind starting a war with the LAPD. Steve? Do you mind?"
Steve removes his lips from the girl's neck and shakes his head.
"Not at all," he replies with a smirk.
Walker leans back in his seat and draws in a deep breath. He looks around the club and sucks his teeth. James can tell he's stalling. He can see the gears struggling to turn in Walker's caveman brain.
"You don't give me twenty percent, you don't get to develop in skid row. I'll cut patrols to the area, stop flushing out all of the junkies and lowlifes... I can even talk to the developer and say it's getting too dangerous for Barnes Tower to go up in the area." His mouth morphs into a wicked grin. James wants to shoot him in his perfect teeth. "I can make your life very, very difficult if I want to, Jamie - and that's short of putting you in prison for the rest of your life. You know how many guys in San Quentin want a piece of James Barnes?"
James's blood is boiling. The girl beside him goes to wrap her arms around his neck, but he shoves her away. He's done playing games.
"You'd halt my development on a multi-million dollar project just to get twenty goddamn percent?"
"Don't test my kindness, Barnes." Walker leans over the small table in front of him and cuts a line of the coke that James brought into this fucking city. His work scattered on Walker's table now going up his nose. This guy already breaks into the LAPD's evidence locker to steal drugs, cut them with baby formula and baking soda to make more of a profit... and he's still broke. Walker is wasting his time, and wasting his ten percent cut. He watches Walker snort the line and blink, laughing as he wipes his nose.
"Shit's strong."
"Yeah, well we don't cut our shit with baby powder," Steve growls.
The girl in his lap is still grinding against her. The only reason he's been quiet is because he's had his face buried in her tits for five minutes.
James is furious, the anger in his chest reaching its peak. He can only keep it bubbled beneath the surface for so long. Lily returns with a tray and whiskey. Walker glares at her.
"Where the hell were you?"
"A guy wanted a dance-"
He reaches out and grabs her arm, hard, pulling her toward him as she sets the tray down. The whiskey bottle gets knocked over. The girl on Steve's lap rushes to pick it up as Walker yanks Lily toward him and shakes her hard.
"When my clients are here, you work for me and only me. You understand?!"
"Walker let her go," James growls.
"What do you care?"
"She's doing her job."
"She knows what her job is. Don't you, sweetheart?"
Lily looks terrified as she stares at James. Walker's hand perfectly covers the bruise that he must have made earlier in the night.
"Walker, this is totally unnecessary," Steve says as he leans forward and reaches for two glasses, pouring a drink for James and himself. "We were talking business. Let's just have a drink and cool off. We've got a lot to talk about."
Walker reluctantly lets Lily go and motions for her to sit down on his lap. She's shaking. James knows how Walker runs his clubs, and he doesn't fucking like it. Walker needs to be taught a lesson, but it's not time for that just yet. James and Steve decided a while ago that they would play a long game with Walker. Hell, him owning this club was their idea and he was stupid enough to fall for it. They've got enough to blackmail him for years.
Father Paul told him to try softer methods with the men who angered him. As he looks around and his eyes find Suzy's, he suddenly understands what Father Paul meant by that. She smiles at him, twirling her dark hair around one finger. Walker is too busy cutting another line to notice the exchange, but Steve sees it. So does the girl on his lap.
"Excuse me for a minute, fellas," James announces.
"Where're you going?" Walker asks. "We're in the middle of a business meeting."
"Taking a piss," James replies. "When I come back, we can negotiate."
He'll negotiate down to twelve percent, and that's the most leeway James is willing to grant him. He gets to his feet and motions for Suzy to follow him to the bathroom on the opposite end of the club. He looks over his shoulder. Walker is preoccupied with talking to Steve, his jaw tensed and red as he speaks. The problem with Walker, is that he has a big mouth. Steve will tell him everything he missed.
James turns down a long hallway and stands in front of the men's room. Suzy appears at the end and struts toward him.
"Hi," she purrs.
"Hi. Which way to Walker's office?"
"Wh-"
He grins and reaches out and grasps her chin.
"You're his favorite, aren't you?"
She nods. James grins.
"I'm gonna fuck you on his desk." Her eyes darken and she giggles. He grasps her hand. "Show me where it is."
The lust in her eyes is short-lived, becoming replaced by fear.
"There are cameras in there. They go right to his phone."
"Are they recorded?"
Suzy nods and James chuckles.
"Are there cameras anywhere else?"
"No."
"Even better. I want him to see my handiwork."
"But-"
He turns around and pulls her toward him, his face twisting into a snarl.
"Are you going to be good?"
She blushes and nods.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes."
He strokes her cheek with the back of his knuckles and she helps him find Walker's office. It's locked.
"You need a key-"
James kicks the door open, busting through the lock. He pulls Suzy by the waist and slams her up against the door as it closes. His mouth finds hers in an instant and he hears her moan as his hands wrap around her waist. She winds one leg around his waist and her hips begin to instinctively grind against his. James runs his lips down her neck, biting down on the space between her neck and shoulder. She whines and he feels himself getting harder by the second. The lust coursing through him makes him temporarily forget how much he feels like gutting Walker and his cronies like fish and leaving their bodies in the dumpsters in the alleyway.
Softer methods, Father Paul said.
This is about as diplomatic as James gets when he's confronted with incompetence.
He owns LA, and Walker needs to know his place.
He breaks the kiss and cups her face in his hands. Suzy's lips are bitten red and gorgeous. James has to hold back a feral growl. He's had his eye on her for a while, but she was always sitting in Walker's lap.
"We don't have very long. He'll be expecting to see you on the floor."
"I know."
"Bend over the desk."
She giggles and rushes toward Walker's desk, swiping off all of his papers, empty coffee cups, and pictures of his wife and kids. James chuckles as they clatter to the ground. He smacks Suzy's ass and unbuckles his belt.
"That's a good girl."
She looks over her shoulder as he pushes her panties aside and runs his fingers through her folds.
"Will you get me out of here?" She asks sincerely, her large brown eyes burning into his. "When this is over?"
James pushes himself into her, his eyes rolling back as she engulfs him fully. Suzy whines and he begins to fuck her hard and fast.
"I'll get you a job at another club, babydoll. Tonight. You're not gonna work here anymore."
He smacks her ass again. Hard enough to leave a welt. She cries out and James picks up the pace, fucking out all of his rage, his disdain for Walker, and his frustrations from the past few days. With one hand, he wind's Suzy's hair in his fingers and pulls her head back.
"Scream for me again."
She does and James growls, biting down on her shoulder. Her perfect fingernails dig into Walker's desk.
"Good girl," he breathes.
James doesn't even really care about his climax at this point, it just feels good to think about anything else than his confession to Father Paul and Walker's utter stupidity.
"Feel good, baby?" She purrs.
"Don't talk," he snarls as he fucks her harder. His head rolling backward. He bites his lip and grunts as he spills into her.
He pulls out of her, zips his pants back up, and buckles his belt as Suzy fixes her underwear and smooths her hair back down. James grasps her by the chin and kisses her softly. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and counts out some bills. He hands her $2000 in cash.
"I'm not a hooker," she says softly.
He raises an eyebrow.
"Never said you were, babydoll. You said you wanted to get out of here, didn't you?"
She nods.
"He beats the shit out of us."
"I know. This is just generosity. You'll start working at Sam Wilson's club on the weekend. I'll make a call tonight. Get your shit and get the hell out of here before he sees you. I'll order you an Uber."
"Thank you," Suzy whispers.
A twinge of pride creeps into his chest. He pulls out his phone and orders her an Uber to Barnes Tower. She can stay for free. As he confirms the Uber, he looks down and his brow knits together.
The picture that Suzy knocked over earlier isn't of Walker and his wife, it's him and another dancer looking rather domestic and holding a small infant. James bends down to retrieve it.
"Cute kid," he says, showing it to Suzy. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Michelle. Nobody's supposed to know about her but Walker. It's why he has cameras in his office."
James nods.
"That's smart."
He pulls his phone out again and snaps a picture of it. He can use this to his advantage - in fact, he considers his little business meeting with Walker to be over. James has all of the ammo he needs to negotiate a twelve percent cut instead of twenty.
"Thank you again, Mr. Barnes."
He looks up at her, temporarily distracted from the pride swelling in his body at this newfound ammunition. He offers a curt nod.
"Your Uber will be here in ten minutes."
Suzy takes that as her cue to leave Walker's office. James waits for her to run down the hall before setting the picture back on the desk, facing the doorway. He turns on his heel and leaves the office door slightly ajar.
When he gets back to the VIP area, he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles sharply.
"Steve!" He barks.
His best friend is snorting massive lines of cocaine off of a girl's tits. Can't leave this fucker alone for a second. James rolls his eyes as Steve looks up. He motions to the front door. He's had enough of Walker.
Steve nods and stands up, kissing the girl beside him. Walker holds his arms out.
"Where the fuck are you going, Barnes?" Walker shouts.
"We're done here, Walker," James says with a grin. "Nice office, by the way."
"Wh- where's Suzy?" Walker asks. "What the fuck did you do?!"
James shrugs and winks at him. Steve chuckles as they head for the exit.
"Catch you later, Walker!" Steve calls. "Thanks for the blow!"
James walks ahead and Steve has to run to catch up with him as they step out of the building and get into the car.
"What the hell did you do?" Steve asks.
"Father Paul said I had to work on softer negotiation tactics."
Steve raises a brow as Peter starts the car and James tells him to drive to his penthouse.
"And? What were those?"
"I fucked Suzy on his desk in front of his cameras."
Steve throws his head back and howls with laughter.
"You're a fuckin' animal, Barnes."
James sighs softly and his phone dings.
You're fucking dead. Where the fuck is Suzy????
He smirks, a small electric thrill coursing through his veins.
Dunno.
Liar. What about my 20%?
You'll get 12.
20 or I make your life a living hell.
James sighs. Time to pull out the big guns. He was hoping to save this. He opens the picture he took of Walker's secret little family and sends it to him.
And I do the same. Pretty stupid of you to keep this out in the open. What would the people of Los Angeles say, John?! It's almost election time, isn't it?
Fuck you, Barnes. I'll blow your fuckin' head off.
You'll take 12% or I leak this to the Times. Don't forget who the King is, sweetheart 😘
James turns off his phone before Walker can respond and draws in a breath. He's well versed in this game. Walker will back down immediately, or he'll face personal and career ruin.
"Peter?" James asks.
"Y- yes, Mr. Barnes?"
"I'll need you to swing by Barnes Tower tomorrow night and take a girl named Suzy to Sam's club around 10:00pm."
"Sure thing, Mr. Barnes."
"Thanks, kid."
"Look at you," Steve laughs. "Playing Captain Save A Hoe. I think you've got a heart in there after all, TinMan."
James doesn't answer. Instead, he stares out the window as the music spills through the speakers. Tchaikovsky. His mother's favorite. It's her birthday tomorrow. He turns to Steve.
"You know a good flower shop around here?"
Steve scoffs.
"Why the fuck would I know that?"
"Just askin', Stevie."
"I can look one up, Mr. Barnes!"
"Not right now, Peter," James whispers, closing his eyes. "Do it later and drop me the location."