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Marisa
Guadalupe and I entered Oasis through the VIP entrance, skipping the long line of clubgoers wrapped around the length of the building. I couldn’t imagine having to wait that long to get inside anywhere. I would never have had the patience to deal with that. Lines like that reminded me of shopping on Black Friday, Christmas Eve, or the day after Christmas. It was crazy that so many people would subject themselves to that kind of torture. Then again, people thought what I did was gruesome, so who was I to judge?
Lupe walked to the front of the VIP line—a woman who owned the place kind of attitude. The security guard gave a quick nod of his head and waved his hand for us to enter. Lupe gave him an audacious smile.
Lupe tossed me a quick and carefree smile over her shoulder. A smile that said she was confident no one suspected a thing about me. Either this guy was a thug who worked for Los Tiburónes, or he was a giant piece of muscle used to intimidate anyone who thought twice about stepping up to him.
The clicking of our heels was muffled by the deafening noise. I felt like we were being swallowed by the wild sounds of the music and everyone inside. As we walked, I took in my surroundings while gawking at everything around me. My cop instincts were at the forefront as I counted heads, exits, and doors. My undercover personality looked around in uneasy wonder as any newcomer would. This place would definitely be an experience for the everyday man.
Lupe didn’t communicate with me as she led me to the circle bar in the center of the place. She acted with the natural ease and grace of someone in charge. I could see now how she had fooled everyone she worked with. Her stance, her ramrod straight spine, and her gigantic attitude that dared anyone to question her were in full effect. It was as if she turned on an invisible switch the moment we stepped from the car.
She slapped her handbag on the bartop with a mischievous smile and motioned for me to do the same. The fact that I now actually had Ramona Perez’s wallet and actual credit cards in my possession solidified my cover. The only fake thing in my possession that didn’t belong to her was the driver’s license. When Lupe handed me Ramona Perez’s stuff, she merely shrugged and told me, “She’s not going to be needing any of this anytime soon. I figured it would help solidify your cover.”
I had no qualms about making my cover as believable as possible and didn’t hesitate. I’d hand everything over later. But for now, I was Ramona Perez. And having her belongings in my possession fortified my clandestine persona.
Oasis was massive. If I weren’t so engrossed with taking everything in and strategizing, I would have been overwhelmed with everything Oasis offered its clientele—a tropical paradise with palm trees towering above us, and twinkling lights creating the effect that we were actually outside instead of inside a concrete building. Women dressed in scantily clad birdlike costumes danced inside swinging birdcages from the ceiling. The women’s faces were expertly painted, while their bodies were adorned with feathers that barely covered their breasts and bikini areas.
A couple of dancers, both male and female, were set up on mini-stages around the circumference of the main club floor, dressed in sexy tropical-styled outfits that left very little to the imagination.
Secluded VIP rooms took up two walls of the second story. Private balconies were provided for each room, and a few patrons were dancing on them instead of sitting inside the rooms.
Everyone was gorgeous and dressed to impress. Every single person in attendance was there to see and be seen. It was like being in a room of top models and superstars. I scanned the crowd, taking in as many people as possible to see if anyone was familiar, but no one stood out except those I knew who were there for their undercover assignments.
The music was loud, but I could still have a decent conversation with myfriend. Lupe leaned closer and said, “It will be crazy in here in about an hour. Right now, everything’s pretty relaxed.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. The DJ over there, Cloud, is amazing. You’ll be fighting the urge to dance. You’ll see.” She nudged me like an old-time friend, then did a little dance move in her chair.
I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at my mouth. I laughed out loud, playing along, and mimicked her moves. Then I kept looking around with interest. In the center of the room was a circular bar. It and the floor around it were lit up with blue lights. It gave the impression that there was a huge body of water in the center. White stools on silver pedestals provided seating.
The second bar in the club resembled the form of an underwater cave—something you’d see if you went scuba diving. A waterfall flowed at the center of it, and the lighting at this bar changed colors—pinks, blues, greens, yellows. It was a magical kind of glow, like the lights at Christmas time that change color or come in a variety of colors.
Now that I’d gone over every square inch available to me, I told myself to get into character. I was here as a prospective client and a friend of her father’s. My cover needed to be believable, and if I didn’t stop acting like a cop, anyone watching me would notice my investigative assertiveness. I needed to start acting like someone there to have fun, not someone who was there doing a job. Unless that job was to get drugs.
“Look,” I leaned toward Lupe and pointed. “Check out those moves.”
Lupe laughed at my expression—mouth opened wide in awed appreciation. She knew I was putting on a show because so was she. She knew what it meant to keep our covers concealed. It wasn’t just her life at risk, but mine. If anything went sideways, we’d both be in a precarious situation. Neither of us wanted that.
Goosebumps pricked my skin as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I shivered involuntarily. I was being watched. My ingrained training, coupled with my heightened sense of awareness, told me I had eyes on me. Eyes that didn’t belong to my own people. I scanned the floor with the eyes of someone who was interested rather than trained to take in every minute detail and tried to repress the ever-present heaviness brought on by uncertainty and tension. No one stood out to me.
Lupe’s smile faded. “¿Quétal?What’s wrong, Ramona?” She used my cover name and placed one of her hands over mine the way she might if I was who I was supposed to be.
“Something feels off.” I kept my head neutral while trying to span as far as I could see without seeming like I was trying to gather intel.
“Nothing’s wrong, Ramona.Cálmate. Just relax.”
I pressed my lips together and sighed. “Easy for you to say. It’s just . . .” I moved my eyes over the room again—nothing but performers and a mass of swankily-dressed people dancing. And that’s when I saw him. Tyler was talking to a group of girls on the other side of the room. Even though his gaze wasn’t locked on me, I could still feel his eyes on me. His ability to watch without watching was both impressive and disturbing. I couldn’t help the urge to want to laugh while wanting to storm over and rip him from the clutches of the hussies he was otherwise engaged with.
“Let’s order a drink.”
I sighed and tore my eyes from that part of the club. “Yeah. At least for appearance’s sake.”
She threw up her hand. “Dos Cadillac Margaritas,” she instructed the bartender before he could even ask what we wanted.
We dropped into a deep conversation, the kind that necessitated talking and ignoring everyone around us. At least to everyone else’s eyes, that’s what we appeared to be doing on the surface. Every once in a while, we’d direct our attention back to the bird dancers, clubgoers, or some other part of the club. The act was all to conceal what we were really doing. Me collecting more intel, Lupe telling me things I needed to know. It was odd to see people sitting on large cushions instead of dancing. It was equally strange to see other groups, mostly couples, snuggled up in booths that had been carved into the walls of the club. These looked like private caves with dimmed lighting.
Surprisingly, the time we spent waiting for Jorge Castro to come meet us was worthwhile. Instead of having to be covert or having to wait until we could speak privately later, we were able to go in-depth out in the open—no one the wiser.
