Raptured (Cruise)

By S B McGrath

After a long stint lap dancing in Ibiza. Jodie returns to her homeland in Dublin after stealing the club owners fortune. She returns to her first profession as a florist and opens her own little flower shop on the Coombe. Cruise is and American plastic surgeon practicing in Dublin. He has it all the career, the looks, the fortune. The socialite lifestyle and one dirty ugly secret that prevents him from sleeping with women. When a chance meeting between them turns into an obsession can cruise hide his secret from Jodie? And when the club owner finally finds Jodie, can Cruise get to her in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496991324

Book preview

Prologue

New Jersey

1992

His damn car hit the gates again, that was our que. The laughter that filled our three story town house died in an instant. He was home. Our father the infamous Rocko Vendetti and by the sound of it he was drunk, high or both. My brother Lance and I fled to the safety of the gloomy basement. Mom didn’t give the instruction anymore, we’d just automatically run for the door. I was twelve and Lance was ten this particular night.

The basement wasn’t really that bad once you descended the cold concrete steps. Our Mom had installed video games, a fuzz ball table and action men with all their artillery to keep us amused while above Rocko abused her in many more ways than one.

Let me tell you about that Mother-Fucker! Rocko owned this side of town. You got a problem you go see Rocko. You need money you go see Rocko. And if your man was beating on you, you definitely go see Rocko! He’d take pleasure scaring the shit outta those wife beating cowards. By the time he’d be finished with them they wouldn’t lay a finger on their ladies again. That’s if he left them with any fingers to go home with!

If there was ever a fucking hypocrite it was him that bastard! Mom had accepted his cruelty towards her and even though I was just a kid, I knew why. She was protecting her little guy’s! Oh she would answer him back alright, he enjoyed a good scrap. And Mom being from Ireland had the feist to entertain him until he’d finally wear himself out.

All the nights had the same pattern. He’d stumble through the door calling for her. She’d question where he had been. He’d tell her he was out getting some American pussy. Then would come the jeers, the insults and a few slaps for good measure. Then the lonely light bulb in the basement would begin to rock to the beat of him raping her above. I’d cover Lance’s ears as I cradled him on the two seater couch, to shield him from hearing the sick fucker’s grunts. It would go quiet for moments before Mom would scream to a final punch, slap or kick and then he would stumble away. Then Mom would come get us and take us to bed up the back stairs. She would snuggle us in and warn us to stay safe.

Yeah I knew the drill! Until that night I heard Mom fighting back. No fucking way ye bastard. I’m taking the boys and I’m leaving you. Do ye hear me? I’m outta here and you’ll never see us again.

you’ll never take my bloodline from me, he shouted you can take your boney ass outta here but you will never, I repeat you will never take my boys. You hear me skinny Irish ho?

There was shouting and scuffling, Lance began to cry. It’s okay Mom will come get us soon shush bro. I tried to soothe. The usual pattern had been broken there was no sign of Mom. Fear surged through every nerve of my body. It was silent, my stomach rolled with nausea. I was afraid to breath. It must have been only seconds but felt like hours, before I told my brother to wait there. I climbed the steps fear growing stronger as I put one foot in front of the other. What I witnessed as I opened the door haunts me to this very day.

I stood there my innocent eyes scanning the scene. Rocko his back to me staring at the wall ahead. Mom sliding down the same wall, blood splurting from her neck soaking the walls and the floor. When Rocko dropped the knife he was holding, I rushed to Mom who half sat half lay on the floor. I knelt at her side pulling my t-shirt off and held it to her neck. It soaked in seconds. It was when I turned to look for something else to use as a towel that the knife caught my eye. My fucking father still standing to my left I grabbed the knife in my right hand. Mother-Fucker didn’t see me coming. Mom dying before me I filled my lungs with air and pulled my arm back. Driven by resentment, rage, anger, compulsion I roared at the top of my voice and drove the knife straight through his gut! His eyes flickered as he dropped to the floor. He died with both hands on the handle.

With all the strength in my skinny legs I kicked his deceased body away from Mom and I. When I looked up Lance was standing at the door. He’d witnessed everything.

Mom was almost unconscious as I instructed Lance to pour the whiskey bottle into her mouth. I had no other choice I had to do something. I began to sew her neck with a simple needle and thread she always kept hanging from the wall. Man was I glad to see the cops and the paramedics. As they loaded Mom into the ambulance Lance and I watched on. She looked to the both of us one word slipped from her lips before she passed out. HOME!

Three months later

All I remember was feeling Moms eyes on me as I stood in the dock of the juvenile court. After hearing the case Judge Purcell looked out towards the crowded courtroom of reporters and journalists. His glasses dangled on the end of his nose as he began to speak.

"Not only is this young man a hero, in my

Judgement he has the talent and capacity

To become a mighty fine surgeon.

This boy has been through enough.

Mrs Vendetti take your son home. I will

Be keeping an interested eye on his progress."

The gavel went down.

Case dismissed!

Chapter One

Fernando’s. Present day.

Jodie

rose.jpg

The beaded curtain parted and Domonica appeared in the dressing room of the club.

Hi Jodie, she called in her Latvian accent.

Howaye Domonica, is there many out there?

Quiet enough. She pulled the belt of her pink satin robe. Will you be home tonight?

No its Fuckfaces poker night. I’ll be hostessing. You can lock up I’ve got my key.

K you know where I am if you need me Jo, she firmly stated.

Domonica what can I say, I don’t do the best friend thing anymore, but Dom was the closest I’d let in since Mandy. Dom and me were Fernando’s loyalist dancers. We’d been there the longest. We took care of his six other younger girls. The eight of us shared two if his apartments ten minutes away rent free. He paid a stingy wage but the tips were okay. Sounds good right? Wrong! You see in order to work at the club, we had to surrender our passports to Fuckface. He wasn’t in the habit of having his girls trained only to flee as soon as they had saved their airfare home.

I removed my sweat suit and trainers to dress in my leather two piece and platforms. My usual Tuesday nights costume. Parting the beads I stomped out to the beat of She Wolf by Shakira. I swayed through the dimly lit club and climbed onto the podium. The one in the centre. I threw my long blonde hair backwards as I placed my right hand on the shiny pole. Placing my left hand for core balance, I swung around. It’s going to be a long night I thought as I built up my performance for some tricks.

After I finished my set and dressed Fuckface [Fernando] gave me the keys to his apartment. The one above the club. Tuesdays were his usual poker night. My duties were to line the breakfast bar with shots of tequila. Then cut the coke he left out earlier in a small zippy bag.

Closing the front door of his apartment, I rushed to pour the shots. I had lined twelve shot glasses before I lifted the coke I spilled half the bag out on a mirrored tile. I cut eight generous lines and placed it beside the shots. Now I had a few precious minutes before they arrive for their game.

Removing the ugly picture that hid the safe in his lounge I breathed in. The safe was an old type the ones with a knob. Tight bastard!. Clicking the knob nine times forward then four clicks backwards, again twice forward and once back. Nothing. Fuck! I was sure of the first three numbers by now, I had memorised them from sound. I repeated the action again this time I clicked backwards twice on the fourth number. Still nothing Shit Shit! Ongoing for my third attempt I heard stirring outside. I quickly replaced the depressing picture and rushed back to the kitchen, perched my ass on a high stool and braised myself.

The four men sat at the dark wood table with matching high back chairs. There was Fuckface with his greasy black hair and beady brown eyes. Skinny the fat smelly baldy bastard who watched over us in the private lap dance room and Fernando’s faithful right hand man. Antonio the restaurant owner of Antonio’s bar and grill from next door. And finally Pablo the local tobacconist. Although I suspected he sold more than tobacco and cigars.

Placing four shots, a salt seller and lemon wedges on a tray I began my hostessing routine. Next I brought them the mirror and four straws. Starting on my left side of the table, I handed Fuckface his straw, bending down for him to snort a line. He sniffed along the mirror and threw his head back. Taking the straw to his other nostril he took another bang of the fluffy white snow. The other three men followed his actions. He tore the plastic wrap from a fresh deck of cards and dealt each man a hand.

Sitting back down on my stool, I took out my emery board and began to file my nails, awaiting my next order. Bored out of my brains, I began to think about Mandy

Fuck You Mandy!

You see Mandy had been my best friend since we could walk and talk. Growing up together in Central Dublin together. The liberties it’s called by us Dubliners. We were inseparable like twin sisters. Although I had an older sister Nicole and a younger sister Kirsty.

Mandy had a cheeky, cocky, confident personality and being three months older than me, I kind of looked up to her. We were always getting ourselves into some scrapes or another. Pranking the teachers in school. Getting detention for smoking behind the prefabs. Rolling the skirts of our uniform up to our asses. Yeah we drove the poor nuns demented. Not to mention our poor suffering Mas and Das. I loved Mandy, she was a scream back then.

At the age of twenty three, two years after my poor Ma died, Mandy suggested we’d go on a working holiday to the Spanish isle of Ibiza. Come on Jo, it will be great fun. We can waitress in the daytime and party all night.

I didn’t really want to leave my poor Da and my cushy job in Nancy’s flower shop. Nancy had been good to me. She’d trained me to be a good florist. She’d also stepped in as a mother figure to me. Anyway that’s beside the point, Mandy had talked me into leaving for the sun in her usual persuasive way. Of course I’d go with her, I idolised my best friend.

Ah but Mandy was a great girl back then. But after a few weeks on the island things began to change. Yeah we had secured good waitressing work and bar work for the evenings, leaving us a few hours to go out clubbing. It was while out clubbing, she developed a taste for the coke, meth, marijuana any drug she could get really. I don’t confess to being snow white but the drug scene just wasn’t for me. Yeah I’d smoked a few spliffs in my time. But I could take it or leave it. Mostly I didn’t even bother and stuck to cocktails.

Mandy was spiralling out of control by the end of the first year. She’d gotten us fired from so many restaurants and bars. We had lost our lovely two bed apartment due to debts to her dealers. That’s how we ended up working at Fernando’s. He took our passports that first night.

So there we were working for Fuckface. The first two weeks were torture as Suzanne trained us into reasonable pole-lap dancers. I had pains in every muscle and muscles I didn’t even know I had. I don’t know what ever happened to Suzanne. She just disappeared one night and never returned to the club. I hope she’s okay. She was harsh but fair and a fantastic dance teacher. I covered for Mandy’s habit as best as I could, but the girl wouldn’t even try help herself. She’d lost weight and looked gaunt, by the time Fernando had enough of her and fired her skinny ass. I refused point blank to move on with her. She promised to get clean "yeah right" and so I finally told the stranger she became, she was on her own. Last I heard around the island, she wasn’t doing too well

Fuck Mandy.

Ah poor Mandy!

Chapter Two

Jodie

rose.jpg

Still sitting on the barstool day dreaming away to myself. Fuckface orders another line. I jump to my senses and oblige. Following their hit with another round of tequila, and another and another. Holy crap I hope this doesn’t start to get messy. On and on they played. Is this night ever going to end? Looking over at Fuckface wearing his poker face, I realised there was fat chance.

Skinny and Antonio had folded leaving Fernando and Pablo still in the game. Pushing back on his chair and standing, well swaying more like Fernando called for a round of Jack Daniels. He stumbled from the kitchen to the lounge. No problem I just need the ladies room and I’ll get that, I called after him.

Peeking from the slit in the door, I seen Fernando remove the painting from the wall. He must have had a good hand. The little pixie that lives in my head told me. Okay Jodie this is it! Concentrate, fucking concentrate real hard. Nine clicks forward yeah that’s right four clicks back. Yeah! Another two clicks forward.

"Come on! Concentrate Jodie for Fucksake!"

Six clicks back. The door swung open. That was all I needed. I’d finally cracked the code. I hurried back to the kitchen before he spotted me. Time to introduce Jack to the Xanax.

Reaching into the side pocket of my hold all, I discretely remove the small packet of crushed up Xanax. Clinking the glasses while dropping in cubes of ice, I quickly poured the powder into the four glasses topping them with Jack. It’s now or never! I carried the tray over to the waiting gamblers. Fuckface spanked my ass as in thanks. She’s a good girl, this one, he rang out to the other creeps with a