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I smiled sweetly at the man who paid my monthly rent, phone, cable and utility bills. “Of course, baby. It’s just that I get a little jealous when you talk about Amanda.”
Brent took one hand off the steering wheel and patted me . . . on the shoulder like he was my brother or uncle. “Sorry, sweetheart.”
Whatever.
The club was located in an abandoned factory just a stone’s throw from the Hudson River.
“Look at this place,” Brent complained as he searched for a parking space. “There is a meat packing plant on one side of it and a park full of whores and crackheads on the other. It is a mugger’s delight. We’ll be lucky to make it in and out in one piece.”
I soothed him with a peck on the cheek. “Would I bring my Main Man to a place where he could get injured?” Main Man was our pet name for Brent’s dick.
He loosened his tie and grinned. “Let’s get jiggy, sweetheart.”
Jiggy, I thought as we crossed the threshold. Real jiggy. I planned to dance until the sweat poured down my back.
Pergola 289 was designed to look like a turn-of-the-century bordello. The walls were covered in red velvet and the floors were brick. The bases of its round tables were ornate iron grillwork. Faux Spanish moss dripped down the sides of the bar, which was shaped like a naked woman. A chandelier provided the only light, which left most of the place in shadows. There were many curvy sofas covered in a red brocade fabric around the walls; and to complete the atmosphere of decadence, four barely clad, busty women swung from red velvet swings suspended from the ceiling. The majority of the crowd was expensively dressed black folk but there were some young whites and a sprinkling of Asians. Those patrons who weren’t dancing to the blasting rhythm & blues were tongue kissing on one of the sofas.
Brent whispered into my ear. “This is what I like about you, Asha. You’re so adventurous.”
We grinned at each other and hit the bar. A cosmopolitan with Grey Goose vodka for me
and a cappuccino martini for him. We drank without talking, just grooving to the excellent music that the DJ was spinning. After the second round of drinks, I put my arms around his waist and our lips met for a kiss. Then we moved in closer. Normally, Brent hated public displays of affection, but even his conservative ass understood that a nightclub didn’t count.
I was pressed right up against him and his tongue was halfway down my throat when the bartender, a woman dressed as a whore to keep the bordello theme going, stopped us with a friendly tap on Brent’s shoulder. “Take it to the sofas, honey. That’s why we have them.”
Hell, we’d been in bed all day. It was time to dance.
Chapter 4
PHIL
She stood in the doorway of her apartment, which must have contained a gazillion kids judging by the noise coming from behind her. It could not have been cleaned in weeks judging by the funk that wafted over her shoulder. She was wearing a super tight, hot pink vinyl miniskirt and a red-and-black tube top. Her ashy looking feet were shoved into a pair of dirty gold sandals. The outfit told me she was either blind or on drugs. The sunken cheeks, missing teeth and once pretty eyes gave me my answer.
“Are you Maria Gonzalez?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Phillip Patterson and this is my partner, Detective Hugo Montana. I’d like to ask you a few questions, please.”
She responded in rapid-fire Spanish aimed at Hugo.
Hugo answered her through gritted teeth. “Miss Gonzalez, do you speak English?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want you to stop being so mutherfuckin’ rude to my partner and pay attention to what he is saying.”
Hugo and I have been partners for many years and we’ve been through this scene many, many times. Black suspects talk to me like he isn’t in the room and Hispanics talk to him in Spanish, which leaves me totally out of the loop.
I waited a beat and then continued. “Miss Gonzalez, do you know a young man called Beany Cruz?”
She shook her head to mean no.
It was a lie and a stupid one at that.
“That’s strange. Because you and Beany were seen laughing and talking together in the park last night and then again at the liquor store.”
“You got a picture of this guy?”
