by Ingrid Thoft
“Well, I can’t speak for our third-party suppliers, but I can assure you that Mode Accessories is owned by a born-and-bred American. Same as the parent company.”
“Would it be possible to meet the owner? Just due diligence, you know how it is.”
Donald squirmed in his seat and looked toward the bulletin board on the wall. Heimlich maneuver instructions were tacked to it—as if anyone had the time to read a poster when someone was choking. “I’m not sure that’s going to be possible. With travel schedules and such.”
“Oh.” Fina turned her smile upside down. “That’s a shame. I’ll have to talk to my client about that.”
“I’m not saying it’s impossible, but I’ll have to make some calls.”
“I would really appreciate that,” Fina said, and she started to push back from the table. “Is this your whole operation? It seems small for what you’ve described.”
“We have another office, but we don’t need much space.”
Fina tried to look through the swinging door that led away from the front office. Donald beckoned her through the other door. “Do you have a card, Amy?”
“Of course.” Fina pulled out her wallet. She took her time pulling a card out from the clear-paned slot next to Amy Myers’s license. “I hope we can work something out.”
“I’m sure we can.” Donald pocketed her card and followed her to the door. “Stay cool.”
“You, too, Donald. Think snow!”
Fina pushed open the door and was hit by a wave of heat. She got back in her car and waved at Donald as she drove away. Half a mile down the road, she pulled into a mattress store parking lot where she stripped off Amy Myers and stuffed her into a shopping bag.
“How are you holding up?” Milloy asked Fina after she slid into a booth at Romy’s Pizza.
“Eh. I’m okay.”
Milloy had a Greek salad in front of him and was sipping a sparkling water. Fina reached over and took one of the large olives that glistened with oil and bits of feta.
“You can order something,” Milloy told her.
“I don’t want anything, other than your olive.” She popped it in her mouth and savored the meatiness of it. She cleaned it to the pit, which she deposited on a napkin pulled from the silver tabletop dispenser.
The waiter brought her a glass of water, and she took a sip and looked around. A few of the other booths were occupied. Some teenage boys were digging into a large pepperoni pizza, and a couple of Newton cops were eating subs. “Why do you like this place so much?” she asked Milloy.
He chewed on a mouthful of lettuce. “Cheap, fast, and fresh.”
“Ahh. The way you like your women.”
Milloy raised an eyebrow and bit into a pepperoncini. The TV hanging in the corner took a break from the Red Sox game and a local update came on. The volume was low, but Fina recognized the area near the airport where the body had been found.
“I wish a celebrity would die or a politician would screw up,” Fina mused. “Something.”
Milloy craned his neck and watched the screen. “They’ll grow tired of it soon.”
“Not soon enough. So I did a little recon at Mode Accessories this afternoon.”
“How’d that go?”
“I didn’t get anything definitive, but I made a pitch and have put in my request to meet the owner.”
“Did you figure out why Melanie contacted them?”
“No, but it’s definitely a front for something. I thought maybe if I could get a name, then I could have Hal attack it from that angle.”
“How’d you leave it?” Milloy asked.
“The delightful Donald Seymour is going to be in touch with Amy Myers.”
“Good old Amy. Was she perky?”
“Always. However, I don’t think Amy would ever look like she went a few rounds with Muhammad Ali.” Fina pointed at her face.
“Yeah, the cops checked you out when you came in.”
“Really?” Fina looked in their direction and smiled. “They probably think you beat me.”
“Little do they know, you’re the dangerous one.” Milloy neatly laid his knife and fork across his plate. “So, any news from the family?”
“That reminds me. Hold on.” Fina pulled out her phone and checked her messages. “One sec.”
She dialed and waited as Rand’s voice mail kicked in. “Hi, Rand,” she said after the beep. “It’s your sister. I’m still waiting for those details we discussed. Call me.”
“What details?” Milloy asked after she’d hung up.
Fina pressed the paper wrapper from her straw onto the tabletop. “Turns out that Rand has been getting some paid action on the side.”
Milloy shook his head. “Not smart. Was he busted?”
“He was, but Carl made it go away.”
“You think it has something to do with Melanie?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a good place to look. And Haley seems to have befriended a hooker.”
“Kids today.”
“I know, really. If someone were to describe my family to me—if they weren’t my family, of course—I’d never believe it. How many ways can you go off the rails?”
“Many, apparently.”
Fina began pleating the wrapper, making it into a paper inchworm. “If I get the info I need from Rand, I’ll need you to set up a date.”
“With a hooker.”
“An escort, and you don’t need to actually sleep with her. I just want access.”
“Of course you do.”
Fina took a long drink. The cops were getting up from their table, adjusting their belts and holsters as they stood.
“Do you want to join me at Crystal?” Fina asked.
“Weren’t you just there?”
“Yeah, but the people I was looking for weren’t.”
“What do you think you’re going to get out of these people?”
“I have no idea, but I’m kind of running out of options here. I don’t have many leads, so I need to work the ones I have.”
“That’s fine. I’ll go.”
“Thank you, and can you come to the funeral with me? It will keep my mother off my back.”
Milloy had an equally hypnotizing effect on men and women of all ages. Elaine got giddy around him, and even Carl showed him a grudging respect. Fina chalked this up to the way Milloy carried himself; he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought, and his extreme self-confidence—not arrogance—was intoxicating.
“In the course of this conversation, you’ve asked me to make a date with a hooker—for conversation, not sex—accompany you to a nightclub to interview some punk-ass pimp, and be your date at your sister-in-law’s funeral. Is that everything?”
“I think so. And you love our quality time together, so stop your bitching.” Fina reached into her bag and put a ten on the table. “My treat. Pick me up around eleven P.M.?”
Milloy gave a little wave, and Fina pushed through the front door and stepped onto the sidewalk. A guy on a skateboard sped by her, close enough that he stirred up a slight breeze. Fina pegged him to be at least twenty-five years old. She was all for bucking convention, but there was something ridiculous about a grown man using a skateboard for transportation.
Back at Nanny’s, Fina checked her messages again and wondered how much time she would give Rand before tattling to Carl. The way to get anyone to do anything was to get Carl to make it so. This was part of the Ludlow dance. Fina knew it was unhealthy and maybe even pathological, but it didn’t seem like the time to alter her steps.
A cold beer and a lukewarm bath, with a couple of Advil, promised some relief from her nagging discomfort. She soaked for almost an hour, lying back in the tub, submerged up to her ears, only her face breaking the surface. She’d pulled off the gauze before getting in, and after a few minutes of stinging a
nd throbbing, her hand adjusted to the water. The bath may have relaxed her body, but it did little for her brain. She kept thinking about Melanie.
When she was pruny, Fina got out, toweled off, and retrieved her phone from the coffee table in the living room. The envelope icon indicated a message, and she stood naked on the rug as she listened. Rand had left a message with the phone number for the service he used. She scribbled it on a receipt and then went back into her bedroom. Fina lay down on the bed and set her alarm for a couple hours. She’d need her beauty sleep to face the meat market that was Crystal.
Milloy drove up a few minutes after eleven, and Fina hopped in the passenger seat. All the windows were rolled down and the moonroof was open. A warm breeze offered a brief respite from the heat when the car moved. Fina asked Milloy to pull over at a convenience store, and she went in and bought two throwaway cell phones from the Korean man behind the counter. She handed one to Milloy when she got back in the car.
“So don’t make a date, just get some general information.” She pulled the phone number for the escort service out of her bag.
“We’re doing this now?” Milloy asked.
“Why not?”
“Fine. What information do you want?”
“How it works, how much, locations, and if they take requests.”
“What am I requesting?”
“Nothing, tonight, but if you got a name from a buddy, for example, could they set you up with the same girl?”
Milloy took the scrap of paper from Fina and dialed the number. She leaned over into his seat and pulled the phone closer to her ear.
“Do you mind?” Milloy asked.
“Nope.”
After two rings, a woman answered. “Hello?”
“Hi there. I got your name from a friend.”
“Is this your first time calling, sir?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Well, I don’t know how much your friend has told you, but we are the most prestigious firm in the city, hence our name, Prestige. Our girls do this to complement their other endeavors.” Fina scoffed, and Milloy slapped her lightly on the knee. “The rest of the time they are working in professional careers or studying for a degree.”
“A degree in blowjobs,” Fina whispered. Milloy glared at her.
“Our girls see only one gentleman per evening,” the woman continued. Her voice was melodious and reassuring.
“That sounds good. I’ve never done this before.”
Fina grabbed the phone and hit the mute button. “Oh my God! You sound like a twelve-year-old or a Penthouse letter!”
“That’s all right, sir,” the woman said. “You said a friend recommended us?”
Milloy wrested the phone back from Fina and unmuted it. “Yes, and discretion is essential.”
“Of course. Our core values are discretion and service that exceeds your expectations,” she cooed over the line.
“I was wondering: My friend talked about a particular girl. Would it be possible to see her?”
“I can certainly try to arrange that for you, sir.”
“The only problem is, I don’t remember her name,” Milloy said.
“Perhaps you could ask your friend, or describe her? I want to make sure you get exactly what you’re looking for.”
“That’s what I’ll do. I’ll ask him and call back. Thanks for your time.” Milloy hung up and dropped the phone in the center console.
“We weren’t done!” Fina exclaimed.
“I need a shower before I go any further.”
“Like you’ve never been with a hooker before.”
Milloy swiveled in his seat. “You think I have to pay for it?”
“Of course you don’t have to pay for it, but I thought it was some sordid rite of passage. Or, you know, if there was stuff you didn’t want to ask your girlfriend for.”
Milloy looked at her. “Just because your brother is a sleazy douche-bag doesn’t mean we all are.”
Fina sat back in her seat. “Touché.”
Milloy started the car and pulled into traffic.
Fina stared out the window. “Great. Now all I have to do is ask Rand for the name of his favorite hooker.”
They left the car with the valet outside Crystal, and Milloy pulled aside one of the bouncers while Fina stood tapping her toe on the sidewalk. Tonight, she was wearing a strapless dress that fit more like an Ace bandage than an item of clothing. She’d stacked bangle bracelets on her arm in an attempt to distract from the scabs that were starting to pucker and peel, and her hair was loose, providing some distraction from her bruised face. Still, her appearance was no credit to the club.
The burly guy studied Fina’s face while Milloy spoke into his ear. Whatever he said, it worked. The velvet rope was pulled back, and Milloy put his arm around Fina and led her into the club.
“Are you doing this solo or do you want a hand?” Milloy yelled in her ear. The music was blaring, and the floor shook from the bass.
“How about you stay close? My friend is in the VIP section, so there’ll be lots of eye candy at least.”
“After you,” Milloy said, and gestured toward the stairs.
The VIP balcony was only half full, but still guarded by another large bouncer. What did these guys do for work other than security? Their necks were the width of fire hydrants, their faces plastered with a permanent grimace. They’d look like escaped convicts in any other workplace.
“We’re here to see Dante,” Fina told the bouncer.
He held up a hand to keep her in her spot, and he gave Milloy the once-over before heading across the room. Dante was seated in the same booth as last time with a bevy of young ladies surrounding him. The bouncer leaned down and whispered in his ear, and a scowl eclipsed Dante’s face.
Fina nudged Milloy with her elbow. “Did you see that? I can tell the exact moment when my name is mentioned; he got all angry-looking. Carl would be so proud.”
The bouncer came back and motioned for Fina and Milloy to proceed to Dante’s table. Dante glared at Fina when she reached them, and he chomped down on a mouthful of ice.
“Looks like you finally got what was coming,” Dante said as he stared at her face. “Give me his name and I’ll send him a thank-you note.”
“Charming, isn’t he, ladies?” she asked the girls.
“What do you want now?” Dante asked.
“I just want to talk. Why don’t your girlfriends give us a little privacy,” Fina said.
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Dante said.
Fina shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t mind talking about your erectile dysfunction in front of them, I don’t mind.”
Dante slammed his glass down on the table. “Make it quick.” He nudged the two girls closest to him, and the group slid out of the booth and wandered over to the bar. “Who’s he?” he asked while studying Milloy.
“He’s my friend, but he really doesn’t want to hear about your penis.”
Milloy shook his head and wandered over to the bar. Fina sat down on the edge of the booth.
“You are the most fucking irritating woman I’ve ever met,” Dante said. “If you were my bitch—”
“Oh, sweetie. That would never happen. Before we go too far, don’t forget about my promise to shoot off your balls, one at a time. My offer still stands.”
“What do you want?” Dante leaned his arms on the table.
“Is Brianna around?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Fine. Let me rephrase the question: Do you know who Brianna works for?”
Dante watched two girls dancing together, probably eager for them to break into a naked pillow fight. He was silent.
“Who has girls up here other than you?” Fina asked.
“None of your business,” Dante s
aid, and tipped his drink back. He bit down on an ice cube and rattled his empty glass in the direction of the bar. “I already told you, I don’t know anything about your kid.”
“She’s not my kid,” Fina growled.
“And I told you about Brianna. If she won’t talk to you, that’s your problem.”
A waiter brought a drink over to the table, but before Dante could take it, Fina grabbed it and took a long pull. She moved her mouth into a moue. “What is this?”
“Coke and Morgan’s.”
“Dante, you have got to get with the program. Your apartment, your choice of cocktail, the outfit,” she said, gesturing toward the shiny button-down shirt that revealed his hairless pecs. “You’re supposed to dress for the job you want, not the one you have.”
Dante grabbed his drink from her. It sloshed onto the table. “What will it take to get you out of my life?”
“Tell me what I want to know. Everything. Now.”
Dante wiped his hands with a napkin and tossed it onto the table. He glanced in both directions and leaned toward Fina. “There are a couple of escort services that do business up here, and as long as they stay out of my way, I stay out of theirs. Mickey McKenna used to run some girls, but I put an end to that.” He sat back and spread his arms across the back of the booth.
“There you go,” Fina said. “Acting like the pimp in charge. Well done. So Brianna works for one of the services? What’s the name of the service?”
“No idea. Now, are we done?”
“The next time Brianna shows up, you give me a ring.” Fina pulled out her card and sent it sliding across the table.
“Why should I?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll find out about it, and then I’ll never leave you alone.”
“Believe her, man,” Milloy said. He was standing behind Fina with a beer in hand. “She’s like a parasite, this one. You cannot get rid of her.”
“No shit,” Dante said, slipping the card into his pocket.
“Always a pleasure, Dante,” Fina said as she stood up.
“Fuck you,” he mumbled.
“Right back at ya,” Fina said, and followed Milloy out of the VIP area.
