Page 24 of Beguiled

I’d been fearful the location would be in some sleazy part of town, pleasantly surprised when Tawny had listed the address as being in the meatpacking district, a location where there were a solid two dozen trendy clubs and hotels.

As soon as I’d walked down the street from the subway stop, music coming from every direction had assaulted my senses. By the time I’d gotten close to the address, I could see activity on the rooftop. While the building was only a midrise, the façade was sleek with a red awning out front and bouncers not only standing by the entrance, but at least two others walking the perimeter.

Like guards.

Or soldiers.

I’d sensed they were armed, which wasn’t completely unusual in New York. The sidewalk had been crawling with people dressed in designer clothes, all hoping for a chance to be selected to get inside. When I’d walked past the crowd, I’d heard groans and experienced catcalls.

Thank God I’d worn a long coat covering the stupid outfit that I had no business being in. I wasn’t this girl, not the one staring at me in the mirror. I’d waited to slap on the makeup until I’d reached my destination, Tawny telling me I’d have a dressing room to store my things.

She’d been right, the room nicer than I imagined the ones on Broadway to be.

Once I’d announced my name, I’d been led down a step of dimly lit stairs to the basement. That’s when the reality of what I was doing had hit me harder than before.

The noise was loud enough my ears were pounding, the selection of music different than what I’d heard outside.

Heavy metal music had met me downstairs, all hard-core bass and drums designed to create a powerful vibe, fueling the obvious testosterone in the room.

Now I stood in the space, gasping for air as I continued to stare at the girl in the mirror.

Contacts in, my natural curls allowed to stream past my shoulders and down my back, and the makeup just as glittery as what I’d remembered Tawny wearing. Supplied by my best friend. I was still grousing as I’d done the entire afternoon and into the evening while trying to concentrate on work. I was even wearing two garters to collect all the money I’d earn.

Why was I more than a little sick to my stomach thinking about parading around like some call girl instead of a card girl?

Thank God, Mr. Chertov had left for the day around three, which had allowed me to begin working on the spreadsheet that would turn into a presentation. In agreeing to help Tawny, I was losing valuable time. That would mean a long, sleepless night when I got home.

I couldn’t lie and say the cash wouldn’t come in handy, but Jesus, I was scared to death I’d fall on my face. The heels were too tall, the outfit too short and way too tight. And the makeup was already itching.

But at least there was no one on this planet who would recognize me. I couldn’t recognize myself. I almost looked like a fairy princess. Well, maybe that was stretching it a little bit. What the costume did allow was for me to hide behind the look, pretending I was someone else.

A hard knock on the door forced me to jump. It was time. My visitor didn’t wait to come inside, parading into the room with another closing the door behind him. And I assumed guarding the visitor with his life.

Maybe I had seen too many thriller movies.

The man was older, his gray hair neatly trimmed, his eyes hardened, but after giving me a scrutinizing onceover, his features softened, at least enough that I didn’t think he was planning on tossing me out. He was wearing a suit like everyone else I’d seen so far, only I could tell he was a man of authority.

“You’ll do,” he said in a quiet voice, wasting no energy in providing additional feedback.

Call it nerves, but I wasn’t thrilled with the reception. “I do so like to please.” The words were dripping in sarcasm, which prompted him to smile.

He shook his head, laughing while rubbing a fat finger across his lip. “Correction, you’ll do very well. The men prefer spunk over pageantry. Something for you to keep in mind.”

“Well, at least that’s something I have in spades.” My skin continued to itch, but more from being treated as an object.

“I’m Patrick Kilborn, the manager of this illustrious club. I understand you’re Saige. You come highly recommended and I don’t like disappointment.”

“Oh, I aim to please.”

“Good girl. Now, while I understand you’re friends with Tawny and she probably already told you this, I’ll tell you what I say to all the girls. What happens here stays here.”

“Like in Vegas.”

His eyebrow shot up. “You could say that, although this club is currently filled with men of power and as such, they will not tolerate their choice in activities or proclivities to be criticized. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Look the other way.”

He finally grinned. “Excellent. You do understand. What I also need to tell you is that the fights are used to settle disagreements.”