“Don’t play dumb,” I said. “You know he owns a brothel and a casino.”
Jack’s jaw clenched, and he nodded.
“I don’t care what you do. Honestly. None of my business.”
“Andrew got himself into trouble, you said?” Jack asked, staying focused.
“Yeah. He lost three hundred thousand dollars in the casino and then offered me in lieu of his debt.”
“Offeredyou? You better explain and explain fast because I have an idea of what I think this is and I—”
“I left my job two months ago to work for Flynn.”
“Are you having sex with Campbell to wipe a debt clean?” he asked bluntly. “Because if that’s the case then I’ll lend you the money and we’ll fucking sue the hell out of—”
“It’s not like that,” I assured him. “I promise. I’m working in his club as a cocktail waitress, and Flynn has been nothing but honorable.”
I could tell Jack didn’t believe me, but he held his tongue.
“I didn’t come here to discuss my arrangement—I need your help with something. And I need you to be discreet.”
“I am nothing if not discreet,” Jack promised. “What is it you need?”
Alia handed me a bottle of water as I tried to catch my breath. We were in the living room of her loft apartment in Queens, and she was teaching me a basic burlesque routine. Dancing was nothing like running, and it used different muscles, but Alia had been right. I did enjoy it.
“Chelsea didn’t show up last night for her shift,” Alia said.
“Really?” I asked. “Did she call?”
Alia shook her head. “Nope.”
I took a drink of water while I thought about what that meant. It was pretty coincidental that someone had died in the club from a drug overdose, and then Chelsea had disappeared. For all I knew, it was a sign of guilt.
“Has anyone heard from her?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Lacey called her the night of the staff meeting and left a voicemail, but Chelsea never called back and she didn’t come in for her shift. She didn’t show up for her next shift either. It’s really unlike her. I’m kind of worried.”
“How well do you know her?” I asked.
Alia shrugged. “I know her as well as any of us know each other.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that some of us are only work friends and some of us actually see each other outside the club. Chelsea was always reliable—on time and everything. She rarely called out. I know she’s in school, and when she’s not at work, she’s studying. But we’ve never hung out. Not until we had that sleepover at the hotel.”
“That was fun,” I said.
“Yeah, it was. It was your idea, wasn’t it?”
“My idea?”
“Don’t play dumb. Ever since you started working at the club, things have been changing. For the better,” she said, “but still changing.”
“I pitched Flynn an idea—instead of just having dancers perform, I suggested singers who would keep in the theme with the 1920s.”
“Flynn?”
Oh, crap. I’d totally slipped up.
