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“Let me tell you something,” I whispered, straightening out my back and taking a step forward. I now stood less than six inches away from him, my neck craning back as I looked up at him. “In all my life, I’ve only met one man who wasn’t a liar, and now he’s dead. Anyone else with a dick? I don’t trust you.”
Zander looked like he wanted to say something, his mouth opening, whatever retort ready to be said, but in the end, he kept it to himself.
Good. Maybe he’d take a hint and shut the hell up for the rest of the night.
We went to a few more clubs; none were as impressive as the first, and none were as packed full of people. Each had their own atmosphere, but I supposed if I had to pick one, I’d choose the first.
We were at the point in the night where there was only more club to visit. One place that called out to me during the day when I was walking home after the failed attempt at meeting Cypress’s local priest.
The Playground.
I know, I know, it seemed a silly name for a club, but that’s because it wasn’t like the others. From the research I’d done earlier, I knew it was meant for the more… discerning client. Not for children looking for a good time with their friends. They had a website, but there was not much on it, besides copies of forms you had to fill out and bring with you if you wanted to participate, along with their mask policy.
It might be weird to have Zander following me to this particular club, but then again, I didn’t give a shit about what he thought about me. It was obvious he had hoped tonight would bring us closer, that I’d swoon over his muscles and spread my legs for him—how fucking ridiculous.
“How many more?” Zander spoke, breaking his long bout of silence. He’d kept to himself ever since my outburst at the first club, which had been quite nice.
“Just one,” I told him, and then I shot him a glare. “And remember, you can’t tell my father—”
“I won’t.” He almost sounded annoyed, as if he could not believe I thought he would run and tattle on me.
“If you do,” I warned him, “I’ll be sure to tell my father all about how you got handsy tonight… with more than just your hands.” As much as my father used me however he wanted, I was still his daughter, and he would not take something like that lying down… even if it was a lie.
“What? I didn’t—” Zander let out a groan, knowing I could end his career with my father just like that. “I won’t tell. I promise.” Less angry then, more serious.
If I was a more naive girl, I would’ve believed him. Hell, I might’ve believed every word he’d told me tonight, maybe even got secretly thrilled that he wanted to get to know me. A lot of guys pretended to have interest in me, but only because I was Miguel Santos’s daughter. Not because of me.
No one ever wanted me for me. That was the curse of being the Santos heir.
It took us about twenty minutes to walk there, but we ended up before the Playground. The neon light was a bright, vibrant pink, shining in the darkness of the city. There were no bouncers outside of its front doors, unlike all the other clubs we’d been to tonight.
Zander tossed me a look, but he didn’t say anything. He kept his thoughts to himself as we strolled up to its doors and pushed inside. We were greeted by someone behind a desk; a small office space whose walls had been painted black. Same with its ceilings. The recessed lighting was dim, lending to the atmosphere of the place.
A door was behind the desk, and the girl working it wore a blue mask. It covered the top half of her face, allowing us to see the wide smile she gave us the moment we walked in. “Hello,” she said, “how can I help you two tonight?”
I stepped toward the desk, leaning on it. It was black, like everything else here. “I’m new here, and I stumbled across this place.” The girl nodded along as I spoke, and I wished Zander wasn’t here with me; it made things just a bit more awkward.
“Ahh,” the woman spoke, “here for a tour to make sure the Playground is the right fit for you?”
I resisted my urge to glance toward Zander, nodding along with the woman.
“Perfect. Let me get you two some NDAs. Once you sign them, I’ll call someone up here to take you through the place.”
“NDAs?” Zander spoke up. “Why do we have to sign nondisclosure agreements?” Someone who worked with my father should know, or at least suspect.
“What goes on in the Playground stays in the Playground,” she explained. “Many of our clients are… in the public sphere, so to speak, and they do not want their after-hour activities talked about.” The woman bent down, opening a drawer on her desk. “I will also need to copy your I.D.s, along with taking your cell phones until the tour is over.” She slid the papers toward us, setting down two pens atop it.
“What…” Zander was still playing stupid, or maybe he really was that stupid. Who could say? Either way, it took him far too long to get out his I.D. for the woman and sign the paper. I was already finished by the time he did so, with my fake name, of course.
As the woman disappeared to copy our I.D.s, Zander looked at me. In the darkness of the room, his eyes looked less green and more shadowy. It gave him a dangerous look, but maybe that was because I knew he was, in fact, dangerous. He probably had a gun on him, which they’d also take before they let us go into the back, where the actual playground of the club was.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“It’s a club” was my answer.
“What kind of club?” Zander paused, waiting a beat before adding, “A sex club?”
The woman reappeared, our I.D.s in one hand and the copies of them in another. “We prefer not to use that term,” she informed us as my cheeks started to burn a bit. Like I’d said, it would be easier if Zander wasn’t here tagging along. So much easier. “We simply provide the space, the music, and the masks. What our guests do is completely up to them.”
