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“I have a job interview, and I needed you to come.”
“Why?” I laughed, keeping her pace as we weaved through the bustling crowd on the busy New York City sidewalk. “I think the idea is people are supposed to go to these on their own.”
“Not this place.” She came to a stop, looking down an alley.
I surveyed the area before my eyes settled on the corridor she was referring to. “You’re interviewing to be a crack whor—”
“Move bitch!” A random man bumped into us both hard as he dashed past, clutching a handbag in his arms.
“Help!” A woman screamed, pointing at the man who was now long gone into the multitude of people.
“Come on.” Maddie tugged my arm down the pathway.
We came to a stop below a sign. It was not currently lit since it was the middle of the afternoon, but I imagined it was beautiful at night. Pale yellow, blue, and red bulbs framed the establishment’s white name,Abruzzo’s Jazz Club, with a large gold saxophone nestled behind. A closed, metal garage door beneath with an Edison-style lamp mounted on the weathered brick wall gave the alleyway a nostalgic ambiance.
Okay, not so bad, I sighed to myself. It no longer felt creepy at all.
Maddie texted on her phone for a moment, then dropped it in her messenger bag. “He should be right here.”
“Who ishe?” I lifted a hand to my chin.
“The manager.”
We waited a few moments, then heard a noise behind the solid metal. The door rolled up, and a man smoking a cigarette opened the black, wrought-iron gate behind it. Flashing us a smile, he extended his hand toward the entrance.
The moment I stepped through the door, I realized we were in another elevator. Puzzled, I scanned the smokey box we were now trapped in as it closed. The guy remained silent, checking out his handsome reflection in the mirror on the wall. He was around six feet tall and covered in tattoos up to his chin. He glided his fingers through his hair as he ran his tongue over his perfectly straight teeth as if he were checking for any traces of food.
Maddie didn’t seem concerned. She wore a wide grin as we descended into what might have been our impending doom. When I made eye contact with her, she wiggled her brows. Then there was me, usually confident, but my father worked with enough criminals for me to know these types of places were full of illegal activity.
Jazz clubs were popular in the city, but many people went unaware of the activities that went on in the back rooms. Not that I knew for certain, but I’d witnessed many conversations on my father’s end. The doors parting caused me to stiffen.
“Sorry, we’re not so flashy right now.” The man stepped out of the elevator, leading us into a large dimly lit room. “The place is hoppin’ at night, though.” He pointed to the stage with instruments and a giant blue curtain hanging on the wall. “But right now, we’re just doing daily shit.”
A lone bartender in a fedora stood behind the bar, buffing glasses. A round table of five men convened in the darkest corner, sipping on drinks and murmuring among themselves around a pile of money in the center. I scanned the room, noting the dark walnut tables peppered throughout, pointed toward the stage. Little LED candles flickered in the middle of each one.
The man reached over, snuffing his cigarette out in an ashtray, then took a step back, looking us both up and down. “Which one of you is Madison?”
“That’d be me.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “I-I go by Maddie though.”
“Love it, Maddie.” He turned his attention to me. “Name?”
“Eliza.”
“You twenty-one?”
I nodded. “Y—”
“Actually,” he held up a finger, “don’t answer that.” He chuckled darkly, lifting his chin toward the bar. “Jimmy, get this girl whatever she wants. I’m taking the other one to the office for her interview.” He laid his palm on my shoulder, leaning close to my ear. “If you have to use the bathroom, tell Jimmy so he can escort you. You don’t roam around in here if we don’t know you. Got it?”
I nodded again.
“Good.” He patted my head, using it to gently steer me toward the bar.
I glanced back over my shoulder to see Maddie joyfully following him toward a door guarded by an armed man.
“What’re you havin’, doll?”
“Oh,” my throat suddenly felt dry as I took a seat, “just a water? Please.”
