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It never occurred to me that there would be a dress code for the club. Based on what the long line of people waiting along a rope stanchion has on? There is, and it’s a lot more revealing, leathery, and tight than what I’m wearing.
Lucky for me, I have a golden ticket. I don’t wait on the line—only because it looks like an hour’s wait and somebody will notice I’m missing by then—instead heading right for the bouncer at the door. I’m not so sure if he’ll believe me when I tell him that I’m Link’s wife, but as though fortune herself is smiling down on me, one of my babysitters is stepping out with a date at the same time as I’m trying to explain who I am.
He’s one of the ones who introduced himself. His name is Marco, and though he smirks when he sees me, he voices that I really am Mrs. Crewes. Despite the judging look the bouncer gives me—I choose to believe it’s my outfit, and notmehe’s judging—he steps aside, letting me walk right in.
The atmosphere slams right into me, and my first impression is that I’m never going to find Link in here.
It’s so crowded. Dark and crowded andhot, with bodies everywhere, most of them hidden in shadows, or bumping along, mimicking fucking on the dance floor. It smells of smoke and sweat, plus the overwhelming stink of booze, and my nose wrinkles.
That’s not the only sense of mine that’s affected. The music is so loud in here, I can feel the rhythm of it beneath the soles of my sneakers.
Figuring I’ll get used to how overwhelming it is if I just immerse myself into the club, I grit my teeth, barely resisting the urge to clap my hands over my ears as I start to circle the place, searching for Link.
For a moment, I think about grabbing my phone and dialing his number. If he’s here, it might be easier for him to find me, but it’s so loud, I can’t hear myself think, let alone have a conversation on the phone.
After about fifteen minutes, I realize that this is pointless. Not only do I not see Link anywhere, but I haven’t passed a familiar face with the exception of the Sinner who I saw on his way out. You would think, in a club run by the syndicate, I’d recognizesomeone, but the fact that I don’t just reinforces how much Link keeps me separate from this part of his life.
Honestly, I’m beginning to see why.
People are openly doing drugs on the floor. Before, when I thought the clubbers were mimicking fucking, I was wrong; some of them are literally doing just that in public. And those who want a little privacy? I’ve seen more than a few couples head upstairs where, I discover after scooting behind them and eavesdropping a little, the working girls in the club take their clients for an hour or two at a time.
I detour away from the stairs, though I won’t lie and say that I don’t stand on the edge of the dance floor, watching some of the couples fuck out in the open. I’m not usually a voyeur—I prefer to be the one getting watched, if I’m being honest—but there’s something about this place that has me drawn to the dark, sadistic nature of the clubbers giving in to their need, swaying along to the music at the same time as they fuck.
It’s mesmerizing, and I probably would’ve stood there long and stared if I didn’t hear a female voice calling my name over the music.
“Ava? Holy shit, that can’t be you.”
I whip my head around.
The woman I’m facing is wearing one of the Devil’s Playground uniforms: a skirt so short they’re closer to being panties, and a cropped t-shirt with the logo on it that dips low enough to show off the lacy edge of her red bra. Her face is made-up expertly, showing off her light brown eyes, and her golden curls are arranged artfully around her face.
I’ve never seen her looking like this before, but I recognize her instantly.
Heidi Fox is a third-grade teacher at Springfield Elementary, and one of my co-workers. I’m used to seeing her fresh-faced in casual cotton dresses and… whoa. Seeing her like this? Excuse me for being so damn shocked.
Moving closer so that she can hear me over the music, I say in her name in disbelief. “Heidi? What are you doing here?”
She gestures at her get-up. “Working, obviously. Waitressing.”
“Really?”
“My boyfriend got me the job.” She laughs, but despite her smile, there’s not a drop of humor in it. “As if teachers don’t get paid shit already, I needed the money during summer break. What about you? What are you doing at the Playground?”
Heidi’s gaze runs over me, but there’s such a marked difference between her waitressing uniform and what I’m wearing that it’s obvious I don’t belong.
Feeling like I’ve been put on the spot, I simply say, “I’m looking for my husband.”
“You’re married? When did that happen?” Her brow furrows. “Weren’t you dating this mechanic guy last I heard? I thought you broke up.”
I’ve never dated a mechanic. “Joey? He was in sales, and, yeah. We broke up.”
“And you married him?”
I shake my head. “Um. No. I…” How to explain? The way her eyes are bugging out of her head so far, they might pop the rest of the way if I tell her I was blackmailed into marrying her boss—and that I killed Joey two weeks ago. “I reconnected with an old ex,” I settle on. “One thing led to another and we eloped.”
That’s what you can call our whirlwind wedding, right?
“Wow. Congratulations.” She pauses for a moment. “And you’re happy?”
