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No one was there. I watched the door for a few moments, but it didn’t open again.
Calm down, Claire, I thought to myself.This is going to be hard enough without you imagining things.
As I picked up the screwdriver and went back to work, I tried to reassure myself that I'd only been hearing things, that no one had actually opened the door and seen me in there. It was harder than expected to convince myself of that. I waspositivethat I’d heard the door open.
Didn’t matter. I was there on a mission and I was going to see it through.
Once the last screw was off, I pulled the vent cover carefully away and set it aside. Then I took one deep breath of fresh air before ducking my head down and crawling into the space. I coughed right away, the dust hitting my lungs hard. Thankfully, the trek didn’t take that long. I made my way to the other side of the chute, taking out the screws as quickly as I could before opening it slightly.
I peeked through, relief taking hold when I saw that the coast was clear. When I was ready, I eased through and shut the cover behind me, leaving the screwdriver in the vent.
My heart raced as I caught my breath.
The hallway was lit with moody track lighting, framed pictures on the walls of sexy women drawn in oils. The music from the dance floor softly pulsed. The hall was clear for the time being, but there was no doubt that the longer I stayed there, the greater the odds of me being spotted.
I stepped to the nearest door and tried to open it, but it was locked.
Before I had a chance to try another, the sounds of low voices came from around the corner on the far side of the hall. Two men were approaching, and I could only guess what they’d do if they were to find me.
I rushed to the next door down the hall, praying that it would be unlocked.
“Umm… can we help you?”
The sight on the other side of the door was one that I hadn’t been prepared for. At all.
Six women, all in various state of undress, were either seated in stylist chairs or standing in front of big vanity mirrors. Bikinis and dresses and shoes and makeup and everything else that a stripper would need scattered here and there.
Shit. I’d walked right into the dressing room and every pair of eyes was on me.
“Uh, hey!” I raised my hand and waggled my fingers, as if nothing at all were wrong. “I, uh, think I took a wrong turn or something.”
One of the women, a tall blonde with huge fake boobs that stared at me like two giant, round fisheyes, let out a snort.
“I’ll say you did.”
Another of the women, short-but-stacked with dark and beautiful features, put her hands on her insanely curvy hips and looked me up and down in about the most judgmental manner possible.
“I was gonna say, you don’t look like the type that dances here.”
“Hey!” I protested, unable to resist. “It’s notthatunfathomable, is it?”
The shorter woman laughed, shaking her head before turning back to the mirror and working onher makeup.
“Seriously,” said the blonde. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?”
The other women watched, eager to hear my explanation as to why I was in their personal space. Right as I opened my mouth, an idea occurred to me.
“Hey, any of you guys know Kiki?”
Something very strange happened at the mere mention of my friend. The faces of the women, all confident and even a little cocky, fell. The blonde turned to the woman next to her, as if unsure what to say. The shorter one stopped in the middle of applying her eyeliner, freezing in place.
I’d hit a nerve.
“Why the hell are you asking about Kiki?” The short woman turned slowly, her expression heated. “Who the hellareyou?”
I had to play it smart, since it was very obvious that I’d stuck my finger right into the middle of an extremely touchy subject.
Putting on a look of innocent confusion, I spoke.
