by Nicole York
It seemed he was right.
Rats scurried along the floor, their fat bodies pressed up against the walls to stay as far away from Marcus as possible as they passed and avoided the light from his phone. He heard them rummaging through the discarded food wrappers behind him as he pushed deeper still into the tunnels.
He took several turns. The tunnels narrowed and he wondered what this place had ever been used for. There were no tracks for trains through here, but the floor was worn from people walking upon it and driving service vehicles through. The ceiling was at least fifteen feet high in some places, where other tunnels were only high and wide enough for a man to walk through.
It seemed odd.
He wondered dimly if this had been used in the times of prohibition to bootleg booze. Where did these tunnels lead to? Where did they end? Did they join the subway tunnels that were actually in use? How many underground events had transpired there that he’d never heard of?
These were all questions he doubted he would find answers to.
Marcus walked for nearly half an hour, following the blue arrows. The deeper into the caves he went, the wetter the painted arrows were. The paint ran in little rivers of blue down from the points of the arrow, making them look like they were bleeding. He knew he was getting close.
After another ten minutes, he heard it.
Music.
It rumbled in the cave walls and still sounded far away, but Marcus doubted that was the case. He was probably right on top of it, but all the stone and concrete blocked the noise. He wondered dimly how much earth was packed above his head. Cole had mentioned this place was six stories underground.
Marcus had tried to keep track of where he was walking so he could place it on a map, but he’d lost sense of where he was down here. His phone was no longer connected to service so he couldn’t use maps either.
He picked his way through the ever-narrowing tunnels until he spied flashing lights around a corner.
Finally.
He pushed on, came carefully around a corner, and found himself standing at the top of an old stone staircase. Down below, the rave was in full swing.
Marcus felt like he’d been transported back in time.
This was not a modern-day party.
The stone walls were bare and used as part of the decor. The bar, down below and against the opposite wall from where Marcus stood, was made out of what appeared to be cinder blocks.
How did they get those fucking things down here?
Lights inside the cinderblocks lit it up in shades of blue, pink, and green. Six bartenders worked behind it. They wore masks over their eyes, bow ties around their throats, and black vests without shirts on underneath—both men and women alike.
The guests, AKA the elite, were dressed in expensive gowns and suits. Women wore furs over their shoulders and diamonds around their necks. Their hair was done up in coils on the side of their heads and feathers were tucked into bands around their hair.
Marcus realized the damn party had a theme. His lack of a costume would make him stand out.
“Fucking Cole,” he muttered. These were important details they couldn’t afford to get wrong. Yet here he stood in his black jacket and black jeans. If that didn’t make him stand out, his bald head and teardrop tattoo most certainly would.
It was too late to worry about such things. It didn’t matter if he stood out. He was there to let Adam Cooper find him, after all.
Somehow, lights had been strung up high above the heads of the partygoers. A massive glass chandelier hung in the middle of the cavernous room and it swayed gently as the music shook the stone walls.
Marcus took a step down and began descending the staircase. The stone was worn smooth in the middle where the most foot traffic passed, and one of Marcus’s questions was answered. This place was certainly used often for events like this.
As he moved down, he kept an eye trained on the crowd, searching for Cole, who he was supposed to meet amongst the guests.
He spied the ex-cop at the bar.
Marcus moved quickly, not wanting to lose sight of his companion. Women watched him pass and men paid him no mind. He kept his head down and made sure not to bump into anyone. This was not Kadia. These people would not take kindly to being nudged or bumped.
At the bar, he stepped up beside Cole.
A female bartender with massive tits that could hardly be contained by her black vest turned her deadpan stare on him. She had soulless eyes. “What can I get you?”
Was she on something? It sure looked like it. Perhaps the people who organized these sorts of things made sure the staff couldn’t retrace their steps back here. Marcus wouldn’t put it past them. Secrecy had a high price.
He’d heard of other events like this where the staff was taken outside and shot in the back of the head after. Drugging seemed a less messy solution.
“A rum and coke on the rocks,” Marcus said. “Double.”
Cole didn’t look up from the glass of what appeared to be gin in front of him. “Took you long enough.”
“I didn’t expect to have to walk four miles to get here.”
“I told you it was a way in.”
“I also didn’t expect the nineteen-twenties theme,” Marcus said dryly. “Next time, make sure you share all the intel, will you?”
Cole snorted and turned his back to the bar so he could lean against it and survey the crowd. “Why? Would you have me believe you would actually dress up in a pinstripe suit or some shit? Give me a break.”
The guy had a point. Even if Marcus had known there was a theme, he wouldn’t have dressed up. That shit was for pussies.
The bartender set Marcus’s drink down on the bar. He pressed cash into her palm and she moved down the bar to help a woman in a sparkly white gown and a light gray fur shawl. If Marcus were a guessing man, he’d say it was wolf’s hide.
Not an easy thing to get your hands on, especially these days.
Cole’s eyes slid back and forth amongst the crowd. “I don’t see Cooper yet.”
Marcus shook his head. “He won’t show yet. If he’s going to come at all, he’ll make sure we have to wait on him. It gives him the illusion of control.”
“That’ll give my partner time to get down here.”
Marcus sipped his drink. Damn, it was strong.
“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” Cole said.
Marcus eyed the drink in his hand.
Cole never looked over. He continued his surveillance of the party. “There are a lot of powerful people in this room. And you are a man with many enemies. It would be easy for someone to take matters into their own hands, should they so please.”
Marcus set his drink down. “Damn it.”
“Pretend to drink it. It will help you blend in.”
Marcus noted that Cole’s drink was untouched. Already, it paid to have an ex-cop at his disposal.
“Now that we’re here, can you tell me about this cop friend of yours we’re waiting on?” Marcus asked, trying not to think too much about the sip of his drink he’d already taken.
“He has a lot of experience in matters like these. He’s used to being up close and personal with drug lords and thugs. And he knows the stakes better than anyone.”
Marcus chuckled. Better than anyone? He doubted that. “This cop got a name?”
A new, painfully familiar male voice spoke from over Marcus’s right shoulder. “It’s been a while, you ugly bastard.”
Marcus turned slowly. His eyes narrowed on the tall dark-haired man standing just at the end of the bar, an untouched martini glass in one hand and a napkin in the other.
“Fuck me,” Marcus breathed.
Jon chuckled and moved down the bar toward Cole and Marcus. This was a man Marcus never expected to see again, especially not in a place like this—or on a job. The pair had parted ways when Jon got involved with Kate, Marcus’s girl.
Well, she’d never really been his. They had been each other’s.
>
Until Jon.
Cole looked back and forth between the pair of them as Jon held out a hand. “Do you two know each other?”
“You could say that,” Jon said.
Marcus clasped his hand and pulled him in to clap him on the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing out here, Jon? Where’s Kate? I thought you were out of this shit for good?”
Jon clasped Marcus’s other shoulder. “I am out. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. And Kate is just fine. Probably because she doesn’t know I’m here with you, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”
Marcus snorted. “You’re the one who married her. You should know her better than that.”
“Hey,” Cole said sharply, drawing the attention of the others. “Who the fuck is Kate?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Marcus said.
“None of your business,” Jon said at the same time.
Marcus grinned. Jon was a guy he used to wish he could hate. He had been the reason Kate and Marcus never worked out, after all. But he respected the guy. They’d been through a hell of a lot together and he had given Kate the life Marcus had always wanted for her in the first place. It still hurt like hell, but it was for the best.
“It’s good to see you, Jon,” Marcus said. “Shit. Cole, you should’ve told me your man was Jon. I’d have stopped busting your balls.”
Cole massaged the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “How the fuck is this possible?”
Jon laughed and popped Cole in the shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother. The three of us? We’re going to burn Adam Cooper to the ground.”
Marcus lifted his drink. “Cheers to that.”
In unison, Cole and Jon said sternly, “Don’t drink that.”
Marcus set the drink down hard on the bar. “Son of a bitch.”
16
Keesha
Keesha stared at her reflection in her vanity mirror in the back room at Kadia. The glass needed to be cleaned. It was streaked with makeup and stained with dried droplets of makeup setting spray and body spray. Some spots were full of gold and green glitter.
Maybe next week I’ll clean it.
She was in no mood to clean right then. Her conversation with her mother over lunch still weighed heavily on her, and even though she’d had hours to cool down, she was still triggered.
Her eyes narrowed at herself. She was halfway done with her makeup, so she looked a bit like a freak with pale skin and all of her freckles covered. She still needed to do the usual bronzer and highlighter and green eye shadow. She just couldn’t find the will to go all out tonight.
Pull yourself together. You need the money.
Would she ever feel like she didn’t need to bust her ass for money? Or was this what the rest of her life was going to be like?
Was her mother right? Was Kadia a bad place to be working?
“No,” Keesha said aloud. This job was the only thing standing between her and financial difficulties.
“What did you say, babe?” Ashley asked. As per usual, she sat at the next vanity over. Tonight, her outfit was purple, and she was taking one from Keesha’s book and doing her makeup to match. Her eyes were deep purple and covered in glitter, and her lips were such a dark plum shade they almost looked black.
She looked like an absolute babe.
“Sorry,” Keesha muttered. “I had a rough day.”
“I can tell.” Ashley pushed up from her stool and dragged it over to sit beside Keesha. She tapped Keesha’s knee. “Face me.”
Keesha did as she was told and Ashley began applying her makeup for her. She swept the much-needed bronzer onto her cheeks and followed up with a gold-based highlighter before adding a touch of pink blush to her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Then she moved in on the eyes, which she lined with a dramatic flick. She didn’t apply any eye shadow.
“Thank you,” Keesha said.
“No worries. I like doing makeup for the other girls. And your face is such a beautiful canvas. I’ve been itching to paint you for weeks.”
“Really?”
“Mhm,” Ashley gushed. “Can I try something new?”
“Knock yourself out. I don’t have it in me to get creative with it tonight.”
Ashley continued working on Keesha’s face. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Keesha shrugged one shoulder but made sure not to move too much. “There’s not much to talk about. I got into it a bit with my mom this afternoon. She doesn’t like that I work here and she’s trying to push me into applying for some hoity-toity reception position at a design firm. Which, I might add, is so not my speed.”
“Girl, my mother won’t let me even come to her house for dinner since she found out what I did for a living. And you know what? It stings. Like a bitch. But sometimes, we have to do what we have to do, you know?”
Keesha nodded while Ashley grabbed her own makeup bag and started searching through it for something. She pulled out a dark tube of lip stain and pulled the wand out, showing Keesha the black inky color.
“That’s a little dark, don’t you think?” Keesha worried.
Ashley shook her head. “Nope. Not at all. You’re feeling dark and moody right now, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“And you think that won’t affect your set?”
Keesha hesitated. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Well,” Ashley said matter-of-factly as she began swiping the dark color on Keesha’s bottom lip, “take it from someone who’s been doing this for a long fucking time, babe. Whatever you’re feeling, thinking, living? Bring it on stage with you. There is nothing better in a performance than soul. You don’t have to be on your A-game every night. Some of your regulars will see a new side of you tonight. Trust me. They’ll love it.”
Keesha had never really thought of it that way. She’d always assumed her loyal fans came back to see the best version of her that she loved to show them. The glittery, green, sexy, happy version.
Maybe it was time to change things up.
When Ashley finished with her makeup, she leaned back and Keesha turned to the mirror.
“Whoa,” Keesha breathed.
Ashley giggled and started packing up her things. “Right? You’re hot as hell. And you look wicked.”
Wicked was the absolute right word to describe how she looked. And how she felt. Her lips were black but Ashley had dabbed gold and green glitter on the fullest part of her lower lip and her cupid’s bow. She felt like an angry pixie—a sexy angry pixie. The dramatic winged liner and no eye shadow let the lips stand out and Ashley had finished them off with a sweep of clear gloss.
“I love this,” Keesha said.
Ashley popped up to her feet. She was Keesha’s polar opposite in her fun purple outfit tonight. “Good. You’re going to make a killing tonight. I can feel it. Lean into how you’re feeling. Let it guide you around the pole. Trust me. It’s therapeutic.”
Keesha didn’t need to hear any more. She was convinced. The makeup alone was working wonders on her confidence.
Ashley took her leave to make her way up to the third floor, and once Keesha changed into her green outfit and sparkly black nylons, she followed suit.
Kadia was bumping tonight.
The crowds felt thicker than usual, so it was hard for Keesha to strut her stuff and tease her fans. They still saw her though. Eyes were drawn to her like she herself was Zandra incarnate.
Fall at my feet, darlings, she thought as she walked languidly to the first set of stairs up to the third floor. She kept her eyes peeled for Marcus, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Usually, he was easy to spot, so she assumed he was up on the third floor, probably in his office.
On the second floor, she bumped into Vance, who was standing in a shadowy corner watching two men as they spoke with a dancer who’d just finished her routine.
His gaze flicked to Keesha and his eyebrows lifted. “New look?”
“Is it that noticeable?”
>
“In a good way,” Vance said.
Keesha played coy and squished her boobs together between her arms for him. “Would you give me your hard-earned money?”
“Among other hard things, yes.”
Keesha giggled and rolled her eyes at him. “Have you seen Marcus tonight? I needed to speak with him.”
Vance shook his head as his attention went back to the dancer and the two men. “No, he’s not here tonight. He had business to see to and won’t be back until tomorrow.”
“Oh.”
“Anything I can help with?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, though. I gotta run. My set is starting soon.”
“Knock ‘em dead,” Vance called after her.
She intended to, so long as they weren’t too dead to give her their money.
Keesha moved up to the third floor. She spied her open platform in the middle of the room, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and strode toward it, making sure the heels of her shoes struck the floor hard enough to draw attention over the music. Men saw her coming. Some even parted for her.
One, her young businessman from the other night, was near the front row, and she paused beside him to run a finger along his shoulders. “Hi, handsome. I was wondering how long I’d have to wait before I ran into you again.”
He cracked his classic crooked smile. “I think my bank account is in trouble.”
She giggled, leaned in close, and pressed her lips to his ear. “I think so too. Don’t worry, baby. I’m worth it.”
She took his hand and used it to balance herself as she walked up the set of stairs onto her platform. Before she let him go, she gave him a special treat and guided his hand down to her right ass cheek. She paused, one foot still on the top step and her other on the platform, and looked down at him over her shoulder. She bit her bottom lip and pressed her hip out, filling his palm with her ass cheek.
His eyes widened and he gave the full muscle a firm squeeze.
