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I looked down the slope of my body. Nothing was left to the imagination. I would have felt insecure if I wasn’t so nervous. And seeing Demie did nothing to calm my nerves. I had been to a few clubs with friends for after work drinks, but I had never seen a waitress wearing this kind of outfit. “Are you sure I’ll be safe?” I asked Liam. “What if something goes wrong and I need help?”
Liam retrieved a black case from his pocket. He clicked it open and showed me the mic inside, no bigger than my pinky nail. “We’ll be able to hear everything you say on this. We can’t talk to you through it, but if anything goes wrong, we’ll hear you and the guy we have on the inside will get you out.”
I reached up and scratched my scalp. It felt like there were a million tiny red ants crawling over my skin. I adjusted the wig with a quick tug. “Shouldn’t we have like, a code word or something?”
He gave me the same look I gave people at work when they call the help desk to tell me they forgot their computer’s password after having changed it only an hour ago. “Sure,” he said in a tight voice. “If that’ll make you feel better. What code word do you want to use?”
Stop scratching,I thought as I reached up and scratched my scalp again. The ants had moved from my head to cover my entire body, and now all I wanted to do was rub my bare ass against a cactus. “I don’t know. You’re the expert?” I had only seen these situations played out in movies, but code word seemed like a no-brainer. I would have thought twice about agreeing to this if I knew I was working with amateurs. “What about, boxercise?” I asked.
He quirked a pale eyebrow at me but said nothing.
I scratched my arm. “It’s a workout class, it’s like Zumba mixed with boxing. Shut up, it was the first thing that came to mind.”
He sighed, shaking his head to himself. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter, we can use that.”
“How am I supposed to wear the mic? I don’t see a clip on it, and I don’t have any pockets.”
“Yes, you do.” He reached his two fingers into the case and without any warning, he shoved it down my line of cleavage. The mic disappeared somewhere between my breasts.
Glaring up at Liam through my lashes, I jerked away from him. “Don’t touch me again,” I said, adjusting my bodice so the mic sat perfectly between my breasts.
Demie pulled into a dark alleyway and shifted the van into park, flicking off the headlights. Outside there was a door with the words “Exit Only” on the front. The scene felt as lively as a funeral. It had been a couple years since I had been to a club, but where was the long line of people waiting outside the front entrance, shivering in the cold as they waited for the bouncer to let them in? Or the woman standing outside on the street corner drunk calling her ex to tell him she still loved him? Or the group of friends standing around in a circle, laughing, as they passed around a single cigarette?
Something was wrong. A cold dread knotted deep inside my stomach. “Liam, what kind of club is this?”
He opened the side door and motioned for me to get out. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said. And as an afterthought, added, “They won’t touch you. They’re not allowed to touch the waitresses.” He pointed to the door with the “Exit Only” sign. “You’re going to go there and wait for a goblin named Robbie to let you in. He’s our guy on the inside. He will keep you safe. And like I said, if anything goes wrong,” he hesitated, “use the code word. Boxercise.” His lips curled like he had bitten into something vile.
I crawled over his lap to the open door. For some reason, hearing him say the code word out loud—even if it made him turn his nose up in disgust—made me feel a little better. We were on the same page with that at least.
“Oh, and Skye?” I stopped on my path to the door, turning my head to look at Liam still sitting with the car door propped open. “Don’t even think about trying to escape or telling anyone to help you. Robbie has orders to stop you if you do.” He slammed the van’s door before I could even think of a response. Not that I had one, his words left me feeling cold and unsteady.
I watched as the van sped off, disappearing down a street. I turned my attention to the door, hesitating. Robbie wasn’t here yet. Maybe this was my chance?
The metal door made a whooshing sound as it opened. A goblin wearing a black shirt with rolled short sleeves stared at me. Inside I could hear the low thump-thump-thump of dance music. “You Liam’s girl?” he asked.
I hesitated. What if I said no and ran off, would he chase me? Robbie has orders to stop you, Liam’s words echoed in my mind. Not wanting to press my luck any further by running in heels; I sighed and nodded. “Robbie?”
He opened the door wider, waving for me to come inside. Robbie led me through a woman’s dressing room, passing by women in varying stages of undress. From humans to orcs and even a few fae, they all stood in front of their opened lockers, breasts and asses hanging out as they changed into their work clothes. I had never seen so many species gathered in one place, not even at college.
We passed a human wearing nothing but pasties slapped over her nipples and a G-string stuffed with money, bent over as she ran a wet wipe down her glittery thigh.
My heart sunk deep into my stomach, confirming my fears. This was a club, but not the kind I had ever been to.
They don’t touch waitresses. They don’t touch waitresses, I repeated in my head like a frenzied mantra.Smile. Pour drinks. Boxercise. You’ll be fine.
I followed Robbie’s heels closely, stopping myself a few times before I accidentally bumped into his back. He kept his gaze forward, uninterested in checking out his surroundings, as if a room full of beautiful, naked women was as exciting as filing your taxes early.
“Your name is Rachel,” Robbie said as soon as we were in the hallway. The club music had steadily grown louder as we moved closer to the heart of the building. But not so loud that I couldn’t hear his instructions. “I’m taking you to our VIP room. Liam probably already gave you instructions, but all you need to do is follow the other waitresses. If the customers try to talk to you, just play dumb.” He reached up and scratched his chin; his eyes flicking from left to right as he checked the hallway. We were alone. I stared at the gauze bandage wrapped around his forearm. He caught me staring and gave me a curious look. “What?”
“What happened to your arm?” I asked. He was the goblin from the warehouse—the one Ansel had tortured. He was much taller in person, but the bandage had confirmed my suspicions.
He dropped his hand to his side and narrowed his eyes at me. “I burned my arm while cooking,” he said slowly.
He probably thought I was in on it. That I was adding insult to injury, so to speak. I wished I could tell him that I was a victim just as much as he was, but I still didn’t know if I could trust him or not. I couldn’t stop hearing Robbie’s agonized scream as Demie sliced off his skin; it still made me sick to think about it. And seeing the arm in person only made me more nauseous.
I desperately wanted to ask him what was on his arm and why it infuriated Ansel so much? But I stopped myself, knowing Liam and Demie were listening to our every word.
I followed him further down the hallway, the music growing so loud I could feel the bass pulsing through my bones. When we took the stairs to the upper level, the music slowly faded to a tolerable level. But my head still throbbed to the beat of the music, thanks to the blood pounding in my ears.
