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I slide through bodies and remove hands from my hips as I pass those on the dance floor.Perhaps I should have worn my uniform.I approach the bar, lean against the sticky countertop, and wait for one of the bar staff to notice me.
“Hey!” A woman in a tiny skirt and platinum blonde hair with soft pink highlights makes her way toward me with a kind smile. She’s been working here for as long as I’ve lived here. Stopping right in front of me, she wipes her hands on a towel and lifts a small glass. “Water?”
“Yup, thanks. And throw in some ice too. Makes it look like I’m drinking just like everyone else.”
Laughing, she tosses a few cubes in and begins filling the glass.
“I heard you’re having a little trouble?” I prompt.
This woman’s name is Lacey, and her smile is infectious as she points upwards. “Dude is on the top level, and I think he’s gonna fall asleep at the bar soon. I was rostered for top level tonight, but Tink shooed me down here, and she’s taking point up there. Mostly he’s crying a lot, wants his mommy or something. His wife is leaving him, his brother is fucking her or some shit. I don’t know the details, but he’s not happy, and now Tink is in momma bear mode, making sure the staff stay clear. Maybe take your drink.” She plops the glass in front of my arm and winks. “It looks like vodka on the rocks. Want an umbrella?”
I scoff and snatch the glass up before she gets the chance. “Do I look like I want an umbrella in my drink?”
She snickers. “Worth a try. Take your water and head on up. It’s not quite as noisy up there, so you can ask T what’s up. Maybe she already knocked him out and put him in a cab. I haven’t seen them pass through, though.”
“It’s alright, I got it.” I tuck my clutch under my arm and adjust my hat to shield my eyes from the glaring lights above. I know wearing a hat makes me conspicuous in this dark place, but it’s too late now.
I move along the length of the bar and find the stairs on the far wall. My shoes slap against the metal steps as I move past more servers, and when I get to the top and look back over the club below me, a sense of déjà vu and dread swirl in my stomach.
As a child, I never went into any club during business hours. It would be bad business to have a child wandering among drunk people cruising on cocaine. But this still feels like déjà vu, still makes me remember standing at the top of a different set of stairs while men shouted and tears blinded me.
That was a long time ago, and I need to move the hell on.
Turning away on a heavy exhale of air, I face the bar on this level and zero in on the very person I need to talk to. Tink is the chick from the gym that I hate. Five feet two inches of perfect tits and sass, she’s every man’s wet dream, except maybe the height thing, though she knows how to wear heels like so few can. Her husband is co-owner of the gym and tries to force her to work out with the rest of them, but mostly she eats bad food and heckles those who have to train to stay skinny.
It comes naturally to her, and the only satisfaction I can take from the genetics we were each given is that, should the zombie apocalypse arrive, or if a team of wild bears were to roam Main Street, she would be one of the first to go.
Skinny doesn’t mean fit, and I know she abhors running.
Yes, I’m an asshole.
No, I’m not sorry.
I walk toward the bar and take note of the people surrounding me. The wall to my left is lined with booths for privacy, as couples sit close and talk without having to shout. Those tables are for the VIPs, come with a minimum spend, and are booked months in advance.
The man I’ve come in search of tonight is not in one of those booths, but sits with his head slumped at the bar.
Tink’s eyes meet mine as I approach. I don’t actually hate the woman. She’s beautiful, witty, and kind. I’m just super jealous of the body she was born with, and possibly, just a tiny bit, of the man she married.
This club can take about three hundred or so people before the regulators start sniffing around for fire violations, and right now, there’s only about a hundred and fifty total, on both levels. About thirty of those are up here, twenty or so in the booths, which leaves the remaining ten at the bar.
I slide onto an empty stool beside the guy I’ve been sent to watch, and bring my glass of water up to sip.
“Hey there, Tate.” Tink steps forward and slaps a napkin down by my hand so I can use it as a coaster. “Need a refill?”
“Nah.” I set my glass down and take a look around. “How is everything?”
She purses her lips and glances to my right when the man sniffles and bumps my shoulder with his. “It’s going okay. We’ve had to eject a few too many people tonight. There might be a full moon or something. I dunno what kinda crazy is in the air, but it’s sending me insane. Aaron here is about ready to pull up stumps and head out. He’s had enough.”
“Not finished,” he slurs. Swinging around with exaggerated movements, his head lolls on his shoulders until our eyes meet. “My divorce is going to court on Monday. My wife is a fuckin’bitchhhhh.” He lets the word roll off his tongue as his eyes swivel. “She’s the one that cheated, right? She’s fucking my brother. But now she thinks she can take my kids and make me pay alimony? Nah…” He turns away and repeats on an obnoxious slur, “Nahhhhh. It’s not going down like that. Ya know they have online forums for this shit?” His eyes come back around to meet mine.
Tink still has to work, so she steps away when called, but her eyes remain on me and my man.
Aaron is oblivious. “I looked online, since she was always doing that when we had the babies. She found moms to talk to about baby shit and room decorations. Well I found a forum for dads who are always getting fucked over in divorce. I know my rights!”
I’m unsure if he knows I’m a cop yet, despite the fact we met when he was arrested for attempted assault on the very wife he loathes, and he’s so spaced out right now, I’m left wondering what drugs those dad forums encouraged him to take. Alex said Tink cut his alcohol off hours ago, which means there’s more at play, and something other than rum in his blood.
I settle in for a bit, thinking he might literally go to sleep if he sits long enough. As I settle, I do the thing I do in every room I’m in – I let my eyes wander the space to scout out the exits and the people inside. More than a hundred people downstairs, thirty up. Many of the tall tables are occupied, and ten of the twelve booths are filled with couples. Every single booth shows a pair of sexy heels and long legs, but the bodies attached are hidden by whoever their date is. Broad backs, strong arms, some have ink, some have shirtsleeves all the way down to their wrists. The drinks around here are constantly replenished, as long as the customer isn’t messy.
