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“To escape you?” he asks. “Hell. It’ll hurt less.”
I grunt and pick up my feet, looking for Brad, noticing Ringo and Goldie are in a booth. “Cozy,” I say as I pass.
“Fuck off,” Goldie hisses, snarling around the rim of her beer bottle. No delicate wine glass. No dress.
“Where’s Happy?”
“Hiding in his office,” Ringo says over a laugh, nodding toward the bar. I see two women, both wearing fancy trouser suits. Both perfectly made up. Both radiating power.
You could bite through the tension, even from here. I peek up at the glass that looks over the club from the secret office, knowing Brad will be up there, looking down, as I dial Rose again. “Come on, baby,” I say quietly. “Answer.”
It goes to voicemail, and I bite down on my teeth and squeeze my phone, breathing out through my nose calmly. I try again. And again. And again.
Brad eventually appears. “All right?”
“Rose has disappeared.”
He steps back. “What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She’s gone, Brad. Walked out. Left. I don’t know what the fuck you want to call it, but she’s gone.” I take a deep breath, my anger and fear doubling. “I told her I had something to tell her. She thought I’d cheated on her.”
Brad snorts. “For real?”
“For real.” I wish Rose had the same confidence in me. “She lost it, and since shit was already flying, I dropped the Sandy bomb.”
“Fuck.”
“She punched me and walked out.”
“And you didn’t go after her?”
My shoulders drop, and I look at him. Brad knows me. I don’t need to tell him.
“For fuck’s sake, you have seriously got to get ahold of your fucking temper.”
I pout. “Try being married to my wife.”
“No thanks, I like my nose how it is,” he says, eyeing mine. “Straight.” Sighing, he motions to the bar, and I look to see all eyes on us. “Elsa Dove says she has information we want to know.”
“About?”
“I don’t know. She won’t talk with Allison around, and Allison is stuck to her fucking stool.”
“Meow,” I purr, dialing Rose again, pacing up and down. “Fuck it,” I hiss when it goes to voicemail again. This time, my message isn’t so loving. “Fucking call me, Rose. This isn’t funny.”
“I’ll tell Elsa now’s not a good time,” Brad says.
“No.” I hold my hand out, stopping him from walking away. Elsa could tell us anything, and anything could be information on Sandy, and I really want information on Sandy. “Do you think you can get Allison away?”
He laughs. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”
“Let’s not talk about bears.”
Brad grimaces as I look across to Elsa Dove. She’s got her eyes on me. Eyes that speak without her mouth saying a word. Rui De Silva Touch Me starts to play. I send a quick text and wander over to Ms. Dove, and she doesn’t free me from her sultry gaze the whole way.
“You must be The Brit,” she says, one long leg crossed over the other, her glass suspended in front of her chest. “What a pleasure.”
My lips remain straight. I hope this isn’t leading to where I think it is. I’m in no mood. “Brad mentioned you had information.”
