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Kane,
Your timing is impeccable… and so is your taste. Thank you.
Name a time and place and I’ll be there.
Blythe
P.S. You made me late for work.
I sit back and drum my fingers on the table, unable to hide my smile when another email alert pings.
Dear Blythe,
Always my pleasure, even when giving you yours.
Tomorrow at eight. There’ll be a black SUV outside your apartment. The driver’s name is Carlyle.
Yours,
Kane
P.S. If I had my way, you’d be late for work every day.
Cheeky bastard.
I don’t stand a chance against Kane Alexander. Not even if I want to. I’m startled by yet another knock, this time it’s Amanda. She hurries in with a purpose and takes a seat opposite me, itching to reveal her news like an excited fourth-grader desperate to beat all the other kids to the answer.
“Spill.”
She releases the breath she’s been holding and the words pour out. “Well, you know how you asked me to investigate the building with the red door,” she says without waiting for a response. “Well, it turns out it’s unnamed for a reason, and I just happen to know someone, a connection, who begrudgingly at first was able to reveal some information about it.”
“Who is this person?”
“I can’t explain that just yet. But I can tell you it’s exclusive. You can’t get into this place being a nobody.”
“And what about your source? Is he or she a somebody?”
“Yes, and they’ve been a member for a year.”
“So, how does one become a member of this club?”
Amanda inches forward on her seat. “Well, that’s the thing. It’s less of a club and more a… society.”
“Like a secret society?”
“Exactly!”
Samantha’s working in some secret society? No wonder she couldn’t tell me. But what’s so important about it that she can’t tell me?
“So what… is this like Da Vinci Code secret society? Is sacrificing involved? A cult?”
I want to tell Amanda the reason behind my questioning, but I decide to hold that info close to my chest.
“Well, my source refused to go into detail. In fact, when I pressed for answers as to what made it secret, he pretty much declined to talk any more. That was except for one thing…”
“And what’s that?”
“When I asked how does one get into such a place, he said only those within a certain tax bracket are even considered. He said he’s allowed to invite one guest a year as part of his membership, but because he travels a lot he hasn’t had the chance.”
“You should go. Be his plus one.”
“I asked already, but like I said, whoever it is needs to fall within the tax bracket and unless you plan on giving me a considerable pay increase, I’m gonna have to sit this one out. I am happy to take one for the team should you happen to change your mind.”
“Sorry, that’s unlikely to happen.”
“It was worth a shot.” She shrugs her shoulders and then smiles. “But you, however, could meet their pre-requisites.”
“Pre-requisites… as in plural? What else are they demanding? Blood?”
“Not far off. Along with proof of last financial year’s tax assessment, you need a recent police check and photo ID of yourself, all sent in prior. Then you sit and wait to see if you’re accepted.”
My curiosity is well and truly piqued. I don’t like my chances of being accepted, even though my business financials are strong, and a police check may find one speeding fine from five years ago, but I certainly don’t carry the wealth these people would be expecting and especially not now Shawn has blown it all.
But it’s worth a shot.
I have to find out what my sister is sinking herself into. My mind is running wild with possible explanations. Anything from being a high-class escort, to a cult member committing human sacrifices, to dealings with the formidable mafia.
“This source of yours, do you trust him?”
Amanda nods with gusto.
“Well then, sign me up. But wait…” a sudden thought hits me, “if this place is intentionally kept secret, what stops anyone from telling, especially a talkative plus one?”
“An oath.”
“I have to swear an oath?”
She nods, eyes widening.
“And what happens if a guest breaks that oath?”
“I guess you’ll take a swim… with the fishes.”
* * *
Dressed in soft, pink leggings and an oversized shirt, I pour myself a glass of well-deserved wine. I’m starting to feel more at home in my new apartment, but there’s still something missing. I can’t say for sure that it’s male company I’m missing because Shawn has been absent for so long, I’m used to my alone time. But it simply feels strange knowing no one and nothing will be walking through the front door except me. Sitting on my new sofa, I decide to give Samantha one last shot. One last chance to spill the beans before I action the pre-requisites.
Setting my number to invisible, I dial Samantha and wait, counting the rings. The first call goes to voicemail, and I decide not to leave a message. Dialling again, I count five rings before she finally answers.
