Billionaire Daredevil In Love

Clayton:

I walked straight to a police officer who immediately recognized me as Clayton Rocco, the billionaire. He told me that Trent was in a cell.

"I want him out," I barked.

"But, sir, w-we can't just do that," he said timidly, "I mean his crime was..."

"Shut the fuck up, and release my friend," I said, giving him a nudge on the shoulder.

He scurried away like a frightened mouse, obviously to report to a superior, and I sat down gently, satisfied, because that was what I wanted. In a moment, the officer returned, and he did so with another officer - a large burly man with hairy hands.

"Mr. Rocco," he said, extending his hand for a handshake, "I'm detective Lance. It seems there has been a misunderstanding."

Compared to his body, his voice was quite small. I stood up, met his eyes and refused to shake his hands. I had to be as overbearing and arrogant as possible, or I would not be given due respect.

"Of course there has been a misunderstanding, Lance," I said in a harsh whisper, "my friend, Trent, is behind bars and I want him out now."

"Sir, please, calm down," he said. "I have looked into the case and he was accused of stabbing a stewardess. Further investigations have shown that said stewardess is deceased now. This is a homicide, sir, and we intend to treat it as one."

"Fucking Trent," I thought to myself. "Going around stabbing people. What the fuck is wrong with him?"

The officer gave me a look as if to say "so?"

"I don't care what he did, Officer Lance," I said, "and I don't give two shits that you intend to treat this as a homicide. I want Trent out and I want him out now. You do not seem to know who you're dealing with. I'm Clayton Rocco, and I own more than half of this city. What I say fucking goes. So go in there and release my friend."

Officer Lance seemed stuck. He bowed his head and shook it sadly. I knew he had seen the indignation on my face and that he knew the power I wielded, but he still had to do his job. I started to pity him, so I thought to make things easier for him.

"Look, Lance, how about this?" I said in a conspiratorial manner. "We can clean this mess up, pretend it never happened, and you wouldn't have to be in any trouble. I know you know what happened. Trent got drunk and stabbed that stewardess, but that wasn't intentional. So let this go. As an incentive, I'll give you some money."

I said the last sentence as a whisper into his ear.

"I-I can't do that," he stuttered. "I can't take a bribe."

"Sure you can," I said, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Look, it's no big deal. Things like this happen all the time. You can let it go. I'll have my accountant put fifty thousand dollars into your account later today." "What?!?!" He said, and then covered his mouth with his hands. "Fifty thousand? That's more than my annual pay."

"I know," I said. "Now go in there and bring my friend the fuck out, and that fifty thousand will be yours immediately."

Without hesitation, he turned and left, and in a few minutes, he came out with Trent. Trent looked gaunt and wretched, as if he had suddenly lost a lot of weight in just a few hours. I was utterly disgusted by him, but I chose not to say anything yet. I took the officer's account number, promising to settle him once I reached home, and I walked to the car with Trent.

"Thanks, man," Trent said as we began the drive home. "It was hell in there, I swear. Thanks for coming through for me. What would I do-"

"Shut the fuck up!" I barked, so loud that even the driver shuddered. "Just shut the fuck up. This is why your life is miserable - you make terrible decisions. You took a life, man. You killed someone. You should be behind bars, really, you should rot in prison. If you weren't my friend, I swear..."

I stopped to catch my breath. It had been a long time since I had been that angry.

Nadine:

When I went home, surprisingly, Clayton was at home. He looked at me in a weird way because my eyes were puffed up from all the crying I did in the car. I couldn't even stay and talk with Anna. "Why do you look this fucked up?" He asked, his voice strangely mild.

"Nothing," I said, and made it for my room.

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"Don't 'nothing' me," he said, grabbing me by the arm. "I said what happened? I'm your husband and I deserve to know."

"Naomi, she got killed at the bar," I explained, choking with tears. "Some psychopath drew a knife and stabbed her. She bled to death. She, she -"

"What?" He said. "Stabbed? Do you know who the assailant is?"

"I don't know, and I don't give a shit," she said. "But I heard the police have taken him into custody."

He let go of my hands. He looked spooked, as if he had seen the ghost of a long lost friend, and it surprised me. I know he did not care about Naomi, and he barely even cared about me. "Trent," he said under his breath. "Fuck!"

"What is it?" I asked. "And why are you calling Trent?"

"Nothing, I-I remembered something," he said and left my side.

I knew Trent. He wasn't at the house all the time, but Clayton called him enough times for me to know that they were close. I jogged up the stairs, went into my room, collapsed on my bed and cried my eyes out. I wondered how I would relay the news to Anna. I heard a knock at the door. It was Clayton.

"I'm sorry about your friend," he said. "Trent is such a bastard."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. So it was Trent.