Games Men Play

By W. C. McGhee

Games Men Play is smart, sexy,
and totally enthralling. Its a thriller
that will pull you to the edge of your
seat.

Kalar Hargrove, an African
American reconstructive surgeon,
works in a renowned Philadelphia
hospital and is on a career fasttrack.
Life is good until this revered
surgeon gets lured into the highstakes
game of a pharmaceutical
tycoon while trying to save a friend
from the grips of a notorious payfor-
play impresario who will stop
at nothing to get what he wants.

This novel moves from an exclusive
doctors address in Rittenhouse
Square to a gentlemans emporium
in NY City. It takes you on a
high speed ride from Las Vegas
to a yacht in LA, from Costa Rica
to an explosive finish back in
Philadelphia that puts everything
on the line. This insatiable pageturner
will leave you breathless.

W.C. McGhee, has written a riveting
thriller you wont want to put down.

Like it on Facebook.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468523034

W. C. McGhee

W. C. McGhee resides in Atlanta, GA. The author has worked in fast-paced corporate environments including the health care industry. A vital team-player on the corporate front, W. C. McGhee has first hand knowledge of the challenges faced by corporate professionals, the hard decisions they continually make and their responsibility to patients, clients, stockholders and board members. Watch for other novels by the author, they won't let you down.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgements

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Acknowledgements

With greatest appreciation, I thank my Mom, Sandra. You were such a loving, optimistic and positive force in my life and in the lives of others. Your exuberance and effervescence made me the person that I am. I believed you when you told me that I could do anything. I lost my Mom two years ago, but she is still watching over me. Without you Mom, this book would not have been possible.

Thanks Dad, Larry, for challenging me with tough questions, even when I didn’t want to hear them. Your motto through my formative years . . . Think on your feet. I’m still working on that instruction, but asking the tough questions works, especially when the person I’m asking is me. One out of two isn’t bad.

Aunt Dot, you always treated me like an adult even as a child. I always thought that was so cool. You let me reason things through with a little coaxing of course. It made me a better person and I thank you for it.

Thank you Father God for your guidance and instruction. All things are possible through faith and believing.

To the rest of my family and to my friends, I appreciate you. Each and every one of you mean the world to me. May you always have happy times, laughter even in the rain, unthinkable joy and lots of love.

Mrs. Enty, thank you for the excellent English lessons. Who knew 7th and 8th grade course study would so importantly shape my future. I thought of you throughout the editing process of this book. Our teachers help shape our tomorrows.

AuthorHouse, this has been quite a journey. Thanks to your team of friendly professionals for their assistance in bringing this novel to press.

To the readers thank you for choosing ‘Games Men Play’. Though a work of fiction, I tried to create realistic characters, and a storyline relative to today’s state of public opinion and concern.

I hope you enjoy the book and continue to travel this journey with me as I introduce new characters that you will adore and sometimes even hate, in novels that will not only thrill but titillate.

W. C. McGhee

Preface

The surgeon held a laser sharp needle to the light then looked down on the torn skin of the woman that lay on the table. In the waiting room friends and loved ones gathered in sorrow. The child she carried could not be saved. The mother, barely clinging to life, would never bear children again.

When the couple opened their eyes in the recovery room they realized their life had changed forever. The life of their son had been ripped from their hands by a man driving under the influence of an illegally purchased prescription drug. A drug touted to be non-addictive.

At their bedside, the reconstructive surgeon listened to the couple recount their loss in agony. He realized then that there had to be a better drug out there; one that would not cause addiction, one that would no longer cost the price of an innocent life.

Chapter 1

Kalar Hargrove ran up the front steps of his Philadelphia home nestled in an upscale bedroom community. An enraged Letitia, a woman whose body had become an aphrodisiac to the beleaguered surgeon, paraded through the halls in black lace lingerie. Her black patent leather tap pants, silky black hose on long slim legs stomping back and forth on 6" platform heels caused his heart rate to accelerate. He wanted to pick her up and take her where she stood.

It would have been nice to present her with flowers, tell her how beautiful she looked and plan an evening that would make her succumb to his charm, but that’s not the kind of relationship they enjoyed. That kind of relationship was a distant part of a past he shared with a woman who stole his heart, crushed it beneath her arm like an oblong piece of deflated pigskin, and never looked back. So he spent his time in relationships that would only bring pleasure, never pain.

Allure for such pleasure had become Letitia’s calling card. Her perfume hit his nose like ammonia beneath the nostrils of a semiconscious man, snapping his neck with desire.

I don’t understand you, Kalar, she said. You’d rather spend time with your patients than with me. Letitia had a dark chocolate figure men dreamt about. Her breasts were small, but her eager panther like obsession with Kalar’s erections more than compensated for her lack of cleavage.

He pulled her to him, wrapped his arm around her waist and shoved his hand deep into her pants. Take me, she gasped.

Desire in his body grew. She ran up the stairs, he behind her, pulling her tap pants down over her firm derrière with urgency. She fell over his bedroom bench, kicked the pants over her heels, screamed in laughter, and called out his name as they continued to undress.

Kalar ripped the corner of the condom package open with his teeth, slid the latex sheath over his rock hard penis and moved into her voracious undulating pubes with acuity. She gasped as he repeatedly hit those triggers that made her body shudder. He felt her hands tremble as she pressed down on his buttocks enjoying the velocity of his penetration. Sounds of their erotic coupling permeated the quiet serenity of the hot room. Sexual abandon overruled all decorum as he clasped her hands and threw them over her head. Slim hot legs wrapped around his waist and hot hips that palpitated beneath him caused Kalar to perpetually lunge like a rod of steel to the depths of her erupting pubes until his body quaked in spasm and could take no more.

Kalar rolled off the divan and fell onto the Egyptian rug his hand resting on his broad heaving chest. He was the perfect specimen of a man. One that exercised his body to exhaustion and his mind to greatness, his broad shoulders narrowed easily over slim hips and muscular thighs. His skin the color of cream infused with honey was drenched with perspiration.

Kalar stood beside the bench extending a hand to Letitia. But she wasn’t looking at his hand. She was looking at one region of his body with open adoration. He knew better than to think a single serving of his love would ever satisfy the nubile beauty’s desire. So he lay back on the rug, lifted his arms in surrender and gave in to her unbridled hunger.

Chapter 2

Kalar arrived at the Den the next morning, a restaurant/bar for the medical set, forty-five minutes after he kissed Letitia goodbye. Sales and media professionals knew to get the scoop on hospital activities, and nourish deals that would eventually be made by the hospital’s purchasing decision makers, meant making their presence known at The Den. More contracts had been negotiated there than any allocated location for such deals in the hospital.

The reconstructive surgeon knew his way around The Den like he knew his way around the surgery suite. A white buxom brunette with an overtly forward personality and thick feathery lashes blocked his path. She seemed more suited for a jock’s locker room than a doctors’ den. Shamelessly batting her eyes she said, Good morning doctor. I’ve been looking for you.

Jonie Corket . . . looks like you’re busy researching another story. He looked through the throng of people gathered around the bar and spotted the sandy-haired specialist she’d been dating drinking orange juice. Breakfast was the morning fare.

I’m not letting you off that easily, she said. Anything newsworthy I can televise? I heard you made a big difference in another young woman’s life yesterday.

Only doing what I do best, he said.

So when will you clear time for me on your schedule doctor? She sidled up to him her firm breasts jutting into his personal space.

I’m off duty, Jonie.

I’m not, remember? I do some of my best work impromptu.

I’ll never forget. He said, and he wouldn’t. One night they were flirting shamelessly aboard a yacht during a medical convention and the next morning they were awkwardly rushing off in opposite directions. She played on his mind like a song; her brunette hair moving like an ensign in the wind while sailing into the Cabo San Lucas sunset.

I’ll let you go this time, Jonie laughed, but you better hurry before I change my mind.

Jonie went back to her date. She lifted a glass to her lips never lacking admirers. Starry eyed interns hoping for fame associated with her stories stood near awaiting her acknowledgement.

Kalar made his way to a corner table where his friends had gathered.

I thought we’d need to call a paramedic to get you away from that ambulance chaser, Greg, the tall dark brown anesthesiologist laughed easily. He had an easy going demeanor and good looks that made women want to spend a lifetime in his arms. His clothes were as impressive as his features adding to his good guy image. What’s she masquerading as today: reporter, sex-crazed maniac, or attention starved newcomer?

A woman with a mission, Kalar said shaking hands with his friends.

I’d be her mission of mercy any day. Shelton, the tall light lanky architect whose laughter resonated from the depths of his larynx, stood to greet his friend.

You’d run for cover, man, Kalar smirked and clasped Shelton’s shoulder good naturedly.

Sorry I’m late my brothers, Ron stepped toward the table. Shorter then the rest, the fast talking lawyer had an ego that mirrored Johnny Cochran’s and a lust for women that matched Ray Charles’.

I bet she’s sorry, too. Kalar said.

You know I don’t roll like that. Ron fell into a seat at the table.

I wish you’d roll in on time, Kalar said.

What’s time got to do with it? Ron asked.

What’s it? Greg and Kalar laughed.

A vise grip, my brothers. My head was stuck and I couldn’t get it out.

What was your head doing stuck in a vise grip? Shelton skeptically looked at Ron his friend of many years.

Drilling for oil in mother Africa, baby, Shelton and Kalar groaned as Ron received a little dap and pegged laughter from Greg. I had to drill down deep until I triggered an eruption followed by gratuitous screams of pleasure.

She was placating your ego is what she was doing. Kalar said.

Ron ignored him, I’m talking major orgasmic tremors reacting to this big rig being thrust to her depths.

You’re talking lust! Greg said.

I’m in lust, but she’s in love. Ron laughed.

In love with the maintenance man, Greg laughed.

Hey! I don’t write the rules, my brothers. Ron continued, I simply enjoy them.

We’re all maintenance men. Kalar said under his breath.

Since when, are you a maintenance man? Shelton asked Ron.

Since it wasn’t, Zima, Ron called his wife’s name under his breath as he looked around to ensure no one out of his circle of friends heard.

Man, she’s your wife. Kalar said.

I know that! Ron retorted. But that well’s run dry. He whispered; agitation in his voice.

You’re not making sense. Shelton looked away in disgust and back. He’d often vent with displeasure at Ron’s blatant disrespect for his wife and the mother of his two children. You and Zima were making all kinds of noise at the resort a couple weeks ago.

Look, different people do different things and this girl loves to do those things. All I want to do is maintain a relationship she finds acceptable, and enjoy myself in the process.

Shelton shifted uneasily in his seat. Trouble is going to catch up with you one of these days. He mumbled.

Shelton, his wife Tricia, Ron and his wife Zima were the best of friends. Their children went to school and day care together. Tricia and Zima were on the same committees, volunteering for the same organizations. They were neighbors by choice. But Zima turned her back on reality. Her short brown Willie Garret look alike husband was a full time philanderer, part-time father and nanosecond husband.

For years Ron made it home long enough to sleep four hours, take a hot shower, shave, change clothes and read the morning paper in silence while their children ate breakfast. He’d grunt his goodbye to Zima then spend another sixteen hours tangled between boardrooms and bedrooms with a menagerie of people in between. Ron had moved his family to the suburbs amidst doctors, lawyers, and CEO’s. But the people who patronized his law firm were from the streets. So in order to keep it real, he made a surrogate wife out of nearly any woman who would have him.

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The four men moved their razzing to the adjoining golf course. Working their way slowly around the Saturday brunch buffet, Greg said, turning his head briefly in Kalar’s direction, I thought you weren’t going to make it today. Figured Letitia had your agenda booked through the weekend.

Will never happen my brother, she’s probably home sleeping like a baby. He rolled his head in mock slumber.

Or out tossing around that credit card, Shelton, laughed.

She can do whatever she wants with her money.

Man, Ron spoke from the other side of the oblong buffet, keeping his eyes peeled on the steamed shrimp, fried trout and grits while he filled his plate. A few weeks ago you were sprung. Letitia had your nose wide open. We couldn’t get you away from that girl.

Everybody’s not like you Ron, Kalar laughed. You catch the scent of potential tail and go running behind it.

You’re right, Ron said tapping his forefingers against his thumb, As long as it’s safe, damn if I let it go to waste.

Chapter 3

Rain met Kent while tending bar part-time at the Sheraton Hotel. Clad in a neat black and white uniform, the petite young woman mixed cocktails then set them on a server’s tray.

Kent sat easily at the bar, surveying his surroundings, quietly watching the bartender. He was impeccably dressed. His skin the color of toffee, his face marked and pocked like a prize fighter’s, his eyes unforgiving. He had a couple drinks and left his business card on top of a hefty tip like a chip on top of a stack of played cards at a black jack table. A multi-carat black diamond adorned his pinky finger. His starched white shirt had long cuffs, fastened with thick gold links, while a thick gold linked chain hung from his wrist. The back of the card read, in rich wet black ink leaving its imprint on the front, ‘Your monthly salary doubled in one night.’ There was an address and an appointment for 7:00 a.m. that Tuesday morning.

Rain was familiar with the location. It was a small exclusive address in Rittenhouse Square. She flipped the card over, following his name were the initials MD. She showed up on time. Good thing too, because he opened his office door precisely at 7:00, and ushered her into a small traditional office.

I’m not going to beat around the bush, Amy. He said. My company Berkshire, LLC owns an exclusive night club in New York City. I’m always scouting for good talent. I liked the way you conducted yourself Sunday at the bar. There were all kinds of people doing all kinds of things, yet you worked as if you had no interest in what your patrons did. Is that true?

Rain scanned the neat office and kept her tone low, I’m hired to bartend. What patrons do should have no effect on my ability to deliver good service. Those words were imprinted in her memory amidst the hundred and fifty-two cocktails she’d memorized in Bartending School.

What’s your full name, Amy?

She looked at her watch and then up at Kent. Rain Aming Bailey.

Are you Asian?

No. I’m bi-racial. My momma’s white and my daddy’s black. My momma said I looked part Indian and part Chinese, so she named me Rain Aming.

Rain, Kent stood and circled her chair. I like that name. I’m surprised you don’t use it. He stopped behind her, massaging the fingers of one hand into her shoulder. They were firm caressing fingers.

She felt as though she should respond, My grandmother wouldn’t let anyone call me Rain. She said rain made people cry.

I’d prefer you use it, should you work for me. He moved over to the desk then bent down so he could look directly into her face. You’re beautiful, he said incredulously, then softened his tone. Are there any circumstances in which you wouldn’t work?

I won’t work for free. Amy checked her watch again. They were already fifteen minutes into the meeting and she needed to make another by 9:00 a.m. The location was an hour away. Her meeting with Kent could end up a mistake, but she tried hard to suppress any noticeable anxiety.

Do you have another appointment?

Yes.

May I ask where? Can I call a cab for you?

I have a car. Dr. Jackson you mentioned a position that could double my salary? How is that possible?

As I said Rain, my company owns an exclusive club. He circled the desk. Every employee must sign a strict confidentiality agreement. If you choose to take a bartending position you will receive the same benefits my medical staff receives. That includes dental. I guarantee you will never be harmed or threatened. Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen. However, to protect our clients we have our staff undergo bi-monthly mandatory disease tests.

Is sexual activity involved in the position? Is this why you’re paying so much? She was ready to leave at that point.

I’m paying you to keep your mouth shut. I’d like to give you an opportunity to work in the fast lane and see if we can make some of Rain’s dreams come true.

Is there nudity involved?

Do you get nude in your present job?

No, but I have been propositioned.

Okay, I must now ask you to sign a confidentiality agreement. It guarantees everything disclosed during this meeting and after, whether or not you decide to join my employ, as strictly confidential.

That’s fine, she said.

Kent opened the door and asked his medical secretary, perched at her desk, to notarize the document and make copies. The secretary watched as Rain signed the document. Then left returning with a much thicker document, the stipulations quite entailed.

Kent asked Rain if she would like to have the contract reviewed by her lawyer. She shook her head no. He then went on to tell her about the club. As she listened to the details the room began to spin around his words. She had heard of such clubs, but had never been approached by any proprietors. She needed time to think through the outcome of such an alliance, consider the money, and the type of reputation she would have if she stayed in the city. She also needed to consider the impact the club, and its reputation, would have on the rest of her life. She was a bartender and a damn good Mixologist. Rain knew from past experience that some roads led to the future and some roads led nowhere, even when they seemed to lead somewhere. She had no idea where this road would lead.

She stood abruptly, I have to go. I don’t need a lawyer to look over these papers, but I do need time to think. It sounds like you need a lot more than a bartender Dr. Jackson. I’m not sure I can do that.

Look. He put his hand on her shoulder again, this time he was close enough to smell the perfume in her hair, see the hint of glitter around her eyes, the true length of her neck and the curvature of her breast against the fitted sweater.

If I wanted some bartender who didn’t know her way around I would have asked that bubbly blonde co-worker of yours, so anxious to please, to join my organization. I need somebody who’s willing to walk the walk and talk the talk. I need somebody who won’t let it get to her when she sees something she doesn’t want to see, or hears something she doesn’t need to hear. I need someone who wants to work on the inside, but who comes from the outside, maybe even the wrong side. Somebody who knows what its like to be accused of a crime, before she even commits it.

I’m not about to commit any crimes, Dr. Jackson.

Crimes are committed everyday, Ms. Bailey. He dared to touch her hair near her neck, brushing it lightly. A glint passed over her eyes as she looked at the well dressed professional black man. I’m trying to stop crimes, giving people an outlet and an opportunity to enjoy themselves, giving others an opportunity to make money in the process. I’d start you off in the main club in front of the dance floor. By the time I open the gentlemen’s club, everyone will know your name. Some of them will come just to see you, which is exactly what I want them to do. His voice was almost hypnotizing. The bar in the VIP Lounge will be yours. Often the main draw to these clubs is not the act or the patrons, but the people who work there.

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He opened the door. She quickly surveyed the outer office already filling with long legged young women leafing through magazines. I hope to hear from you within the next couple of days Rain. Make a good decision for us both.

He walked Rain up to the secretary’s desk. His secretary stood quickly and, amongst pleasantries, ushered the young woman out the front door.

Kent picked up a few laboratory results from his secretary’s tray and went back to his office. He needed to work, but his mind was on Rain. Her name fell across his mind like a waterfall on an exotic island.

His secretary disrupted his thoughts when she put a package on his desk. He looked at it, blood test results, then threw it into a corner tray. He refocused his attention on Rain. He thought of how classy she was, how sleek and tight her body. He couldn’t wait to see her naked. He didn’t want somebody who would fall for anything. However, he did want somebody who could handle almost any situation without being street. He knew men would like playing with Rain. She looked like a petite vixen in a video game; but would she sign on? What would it take?

Chapter 4

Rain took the car back to the rental office when she left her second appointment. The Banquet Manager at the Sheraton called a meeting of his staff to make an announcement. She hadn’t been let go, but like so many others was devastated that her hours had been cut. For her there would be no more weekends or overtime, and that’s where the tips were. Her livelihood was dependent on those tips.

Rain changed clothes, put on a pair of slim fitting jeans, a top and a zippered grey sweat jacket with a hood. She’d changed her look in a matter of minutes. With the hood up, she looked more like a troubled teen then a gainfully employed young woman. She had long since moved out of the house she shared with four military females. The military had transferred her friends out of town, one right after the other. It was unbelievable how quickly her four female roommates transitioned to four men.

The guys were slobs, but at first everything was cool until one of the guys got drunk and found his way to her room. She stayed with one of her Filipino friends’ mom and sister until she found a place of her own. With the tip money she was making at the Sheraton and on base she was able to manage, but now with cutbacks, she’d have to take another job quick.

She packed items she needed for the night’s shift into an army bag and rushed out the front door. She threw up her hand to hail a cab, but they continued to switch lanes as they whizzed past. She half walked and half ran up to the corner for the three o’clock bus. She made it in time to see people boarding. She hung her head and trudged toward the back of the line.

With her arm dangling from the hand strap above her head she leaned on the metal door divider taking the smooth riding bus downtown to the base. She took the time she had ahead in travel to read over the contract Kent Jackson unceremoniously provided. It was a detailed document swearing her to secrecy, not allowing her to disclose any aspects of the business, discuss the activities of the patrons, employees, or services provided including those services she would provide. Page two and three included a list of locations that also could not be discussed.

She took an empty seat