“I’m not worried. I just don’t feel like drinking tonight.” Nell clinked her glass against Harper’s. “To Evie?”
Harper took a sharp breath. There was a reason neither of them had been scheduled to work that evening. If Darryl hadn’t demanded his two most popular dancers show up, they wouldn’t even be there.
She forced on a smile, clinking Nell’s glass.
“To Evie.”
A pang fired through her chest. An expected reaction, given that it showed up basically every time that name was mentioned. Pain that had been present for over two years, ever since she got a phone call from a bored New Orleans police officer investigating the disappearance of one Evelyn ‘Evie’ Atkins.
The details in that call were all they’d gotten. Every other piece of information came from a private investigator whose dozens of billable hours had produced no answers.
Waste of money. It was obvious what had happened, even if no one would admit it.
“Is everything okay over here?” A stern voice, softened by a southern lilt, made both Harper and Nell turn. Patricia had approached the bar, her fair skin taking on a reddish hue under the scarlet club lights.
She’d been in her office most of the night, so she wasn’t as alluringly dressed as the girls working the floor. Though, Madame energy and blessed genetics meant she wasn’t many steps removed.
Patricia had spent over a decade managing clubs like this, and she looked ten years younger than her age of forty. Beyond a few lines of gray in her dark brown hair, her appearance hadn’t changed in the half decade Harper had known her.
“We’re good.” Nell kept her smile in place, while Harper had given up on hers.
Patricia crossed her arms. “Then why aren’t you walking the floor?”
Harper knew to be wary of questions like that. Most managers didn’t like seeing the dancers project anything other than sultriness—least of all misery. But Patricia wasn’t like most managers.
“I needed a break. Nell did, too.” Harper stabbed the straw into her water, making the ice cubes clink together. “Celebrating your dead friend’s birthday does wonders for your energy levels.”
Patricia’s stern expression faded. “Harper…”
“You disagree? It’s been over two years, and we’ve heard nothing. What do you think that means?”
“We don’t know that she’s dead,” Nell said, voice low. Her real voice, soft like velvet, and unlike the silky, seductive one she used when working. “Anything could have happened. And Evie’s tough. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“She’s notfine. If she was, we would have heard from her by now. She would have come back, instead of just being gone like this. If you think otherwise, then you’re just lying to yourselves.”
Nell’s shoulders tensed. Hurt flashed over her soft features, amplified by her brown doe eyes turning glassy.
Harper wanted to curse at herself. Sheneversnapped at Nell, not even in jest, but her tongue didn’t care about that. It had a habit of spitting out cruel words before she could think to keep them in.
It made most people keep their distance. But Nell and Patricia didn’t move.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…” Harper’s bottom lip trembled. “It’s notfair.”
Someone vanishing like Evie had done wasn’t unheard of. Harper knew a few other girls who’ddisappeared. Sex workers were easily forgotten, making them easy targets. Expected ones, too, going by how fast people had lost interest in Evie’s case.
Two and a half years ago, a woman Harper loved more than a sister had moved from Shreveport to New Orleans in search of a better life. Now she was probably rotting in a ditch somewhere.
“No. It isn’t fair.” Patricia put an arm around Harper’s shoulders. Nell let her smile return, carefully wiping her eyes before reaching her hand over the bar.
Harper took her hand and clutched it tight. She leaned against Patricia, stopping herself from turning her face against her shoulder and blocking out the room like an overwhelmed child.
When Harper leaned away, Patricia caressed the side of her head, smoothing out her bleached blonde hair. Harper usually dyed it bright colors, but she hadn’t felt like doing it in months. It had grown out enough to have dark roots.
Then Patricia stiffened, hand resting by Harper’s cheek.
“You have shadows under your eyes.”
Thatobviouslywasn’t all she’d seen. Harper adjusted her robe and slipped off the stool.
