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“No, you’re right. I mean, Idokind of have a tendency to think I know what’s right for everyone.”
“Then why not let me make my own decisions? You know, actually trust that I’ve put some thought into what I’m doing? This job could be my ticket out of this life.” She swept her hand at her surroundings, the shabby Dorchester studio apartment where she’d been living for the last year. “I would be able to afford to live somewhere safer, start taking classes again, and make something of myself, you know?”
“I get it.” I moved over to the bed, sitting down next to her. “I really do. And it’s not a matter of me thinking you’re rushing into this decision without thinking it through. It’s a matter of me knowing things that you couldn’t possibly know. This club, Pussycats? It sounded familiar when you told me the name and now I know why.”
“Because you’re one of their regulars?” Katherine flashed me a sly smile.
I laughed. She had always been good at lightening up a dark mood like that.
“No, it’s because I remember it from a case I took a while back. There’s rumors that this club, and others around town, are owned by the Irish Mob.”
It was her turn to laugh. “The Irish mob? What is this, a Scorsese movie?”
“I know the mob seems like this old-school thing, Kat, but we live in Boston—the Irish mob has been around since Ellis Island days and still exists, still has its fingers here and there around town. Strip clubs are popular with more unscrupulous types because they’re the perfect money laundering setup.”
“OK, well, you know your stuff when it comes to the law. But I went there and interviewed, and everything seemed totally on the up and up. The guy I talked with was professional, and the clientele appeared to be either rich business types wanting to impress clients, or crypto nerds who don’t mind paying a pretty girl good money for a little attention. Not to mention the house rule is one-hundred percent hands-off—they can’t touch me unless I want them to.”
I shifted in my seat. “You’re an adult, and I’m not going to tell you what to do. But you do understand that I’m just looking out for you, right?”
Katherine smiled warmly, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“I do. You’ve always looked out for me. Hell,we’ve always looked out for each other.”
“Yup. And I hope you don’t think that’s going to change any time soon.”
“I know you’re as stubborn as you are smart. And I love that about you. But this is something I have to do. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. This job is going to get me where I need to be.”
I couldn’t help but smile, opening my arms and throwing them around her.
“I love you, Kat.”
She hugged me back. “I love you, too. Even when you’re a know-it-all.”
* * *
Present day…
“Comeon!” I banged on the door with both hands.
“Hold on, geez.” A soft, silky voice came from inside the apartment. The fancy, electronic lock on the door opened with a click.
The woman who greeted me was stunningly beautiful. She had cinnamon colored skin and eyes so deep and dark and sensual that I simply stared for a moment. While she was petite in stature, there was nothing small about her assets. The girl was stacked, with big boobs and a butt so round it almost didn’t seem real. She was dressed in a black negligee, her feet bare and her toes painted a glittery silver. On her neck was a fancy diamond necklace so expensive looking that it somehow managed to draw attention away from her boobs instead of the other way around.
She looked me up and down with an annoyed expression, not bothering at all to hide how irritated she was.
“Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Claire, Katherine’s friend.”
The girl cocked her head to the side. “Katherine?”
I pursed my lips, remembering that this girl was not only Kat’s roommate, but a fellow dancer over at Pussycats.
“Kiki. I’m Kiki’s best friend.” It’d been a couple of months since Kat had started her new job, and I hadn’t even gotten close to being used to calling her that.
She looked me up and down a few more times. “You’re her best friend? Then why haven’t I seen you before?”
As she spoke, I glanced over her shoulder in an attempt to get a better look at the apartment. The building it was in was sleek and modern, and situated on the thirteenth floor of one of the new condo buildings that had been sprouting up near the waterfront downtown. The tall windows looked out over the aquarium and the North End neighborhood. The interior, however, was another matter. There were take-out containers here and there, along with clothes tossed haphazardly on the back of furniture, bottles of one kind of booze or another on the table in front of the big TV where some reality show was playing on mute.
