Once again seated at my desk, I took the crumpled picture I’d found under Angie’s bed out of the desk drawer. The longer I looked at it the more I felt like I was missing something, something obvious, but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, figure out what the hell it was.
Disappointed my guaranteed, never to fail inspiration method had indeed failed, I put the picture in the file and locked it in the file cabinet. There was nothing else for me to do so I decided to call it a day. I dropped the envelopes into the mailbox on my way home.
Figuring the night would be a late one, I crawled into bed and set the alarm. Two hours later I turned off the squawking sound, grateful to be awake and away from the bad dream that was thankfully already slipping from my memory.
In the bathroom I stripped out of my clothes and got into the shower. Though I wasn’t sure why I was bothering showering. I was pretty sure after spending the evening at a strip club I’d feel the need for several gallons of hand sanitizer. After my shower I slipped into a robe, dried my hair, and put on makeup. I was just finishing up the mascara when the doorbell rang.
Having finally learned my lesson, I remembered to look through the peephole before opening the door. All I saw was what appeared to be a white trash bag and fire engine red nails that looked more like talons than human fingernails used on a computer keyboard every day.
I opened the door and was suddenly surrounded by the scent of White Diamonds perfume and Melissa’s commentary of how long it took her to find just exactly what she had been looking for. The bags I had mistaken for trash bags turned out to be garment bags.
“After we pick out your outfit we’ll do your makeup.”
“I already did it.”
“Oh please, that’s way too understated for these outfits.”
“Wait, how many outfits did you buy?”
“Just a few. Relax, I’ll return anything we don’t use.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. Did you think I was going to send you out in the world all slutified and alone?”
“Slutified is not a word, and, besides, I’m working.”
“First, it’s a word because I just made it up, and second, of course you’re working, duh. So let’s get started, shall we?”
“Melissa…”
“Come on, let’s get upstairs. This is going to take some time.”
Resigned to the fact I’d be dragging my best friend to a strip club and have her watch while I came on to some guy, I followed her upstairs and filled her in on our evening plans.
“Sounds exciting. This could be excellent research for a book, which means I could write off the cost of the clothes.”
“I plan on paying you for them.”
“Don’t even think about it. I will slap you silly if you try.”
***
I looked at myself in the mirror and cringed. “Oh jeez, this is horrible.”
“Really? I thought it was the best of all three.”
If my parents or, God forbid, Father Steve saw me like this, I’d be in confession for hours. Though to be fair, the outfit would only get me a few minutes. Not much, when compared to all the other things I’d need to confess. It had been quite a while since my last confession when I’d admitted to putting my ex-husband’s baseball card collection through the shredder.
It had taken nearly an hour but boy, had it been worth it. I finished off the bottle of wine about the same time I’d put the last card in. The first half of the bottle had been the encouragement I’d needed. The second half was because I hadn’t wanted it to go to waste.
I had always felt there had been a divine intervention I hadn’t woken up the next morning with a hangover, considering my oath to God about getting drunk. At the time I had figured he’d given me a pass considering the situation.
Satisfied the barely there black mini skirt and red-hot halter top would have to do, I looked at Melissa and clapped my hand over my mouth. Gone were her designer clothes and expensive jewelry, and in their place were black leather pants and a matching bustier. “I can’t believe you replaced your diamonds with that clunky gold colored costume jewelry.”
“Everyone knows it isn’t safe to wear real jewelry to a place like that.”
“Oh.”
“So are you sure you don’t want any jewelry?”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Suit yourself. Now let’s do something with your face.”
I sat on the toilet seat and let Melissa slather on so much makeup I feared I’d need a jack hammer to remove it all. She claimed she was finished with me and added a bit to her own already done up face. We stood next to each other in front of the mirror and, even made up to look like hookers, I felt like a store brand knockoff next to a name brand item.
I liked my brown hair but it wasn’t the shiny mahogany like Melissa’s. Her dark brown eyes with gold flecks went along with her olive skin, giving her a mysterious and glamorous feel. If she wasn’t also one of the kindest, most generous people I knew, I’d have probably given in to the urge to kill her years ago.
We grabbed our purses and while I headed for the back door, Melissa headed for the front. “What are you doing?”
“Elijah is waiting out front. I thought it best if he drove us. Don’t worry, he won’t stay. I’ll call him to pick us up.”
“I don’t want my neighbors to see me dressed like this. Besides, don’t you think Elijah is going to be a bit shocked to see us?”
“Shocked? No. Amused? Absolutely. How could you deny him the joy?”
“Fine.”
We stepped outside and the street suddenly seemed much farther away than it ever had before. Walking to the Mercedes, I prayed none of my neighbors would choose that moment to look out their windows. Melissa had been right. Elijah’s eyes looked ready to burst out of his head but he merely smiled while he held the door for us. Though I could have sworn I heard a chuckle just before the door closed, shutting off the sound.
Indiscretions was on the other side of town, which in a city the size of Lakeview meant we were only a twelve-minute drive away. Once there, Elijah pulled the car up to the front and got out, offering his hand to assist us exiting the back of the car. We waved goodbye and I wished desperately I was once again back inside the car headed just about anywhere.
“Well, let’s go.”
“I don’t want to,” I said.
“What are you, two? Come on.”
“Fine, but you have to promise to stop me from hitting any of these jerks if they put their hands on me.”
“Promise.” She placed her hand over her heart and smiled.
I was screwed.
We got in line and paid to go inside. They even carded us at the door. It would have been a compliment if they hadn’t carded the old guy in front of me who looked like he’d been around when Orville and Wilbur took their historic flight in 1903.
Inside, the music was loud, as were the furnishings—the tables were black while the chairs ranged in color from blue to purple and orange to pink. To be fair, they matched the carpet as well as the multicolored flashing lights. Evidently their clientele wasn’t too interested in fancy décor. Of course, to complete the picture, there were two women in their twenties onstage dancing around while they took off one item of clothing at a time.
Melissa and I made our way past tables of rowdy men hollering at the dancers. At the bar we each bought a beer and snagged a table as far from the floor show as possible, despite Melissa’s objections that we were too far from the excitement.
“Wow, that girl’s limber. If I could do that, I’d still be married to the mutant.”
“No, you wouldn’t. The mutant was also an asshole,” I said.
“Oh yeah, good point. I don’t know why I forget that.”
“Denial can be a beautiful thing.”
We had only been sitting down for a short while when the parade of losers began. The pickup lines were just plain sad. One of our would-be suitors was my contact pretending t
o hit on us. He slid a picture onto my lap and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “He’s at the bar. Red shirt, blond hair.”
“Got it. Now get lost.”
“Your friend looks hot. Maybe she’d like to come work for me.”
“Sorry, buddy, but you can’t afford her.”
“A damn shame.” Dimitri grabbed the picture from my hand, straightened up, and walked back to where he’d been sitting at a table only a few feet away.
“So what’s next?” Melissa asked.
“I’ll watch him for a few minutes then I’ll go over and make a move. Hopefully, this won’t take long.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of singles.”
“Are you crazy? Put that money away.”
“Oh, you’re right. I shouldn’t be flashing my cash around.”
That, and I didn’t want any of the ladies to get the wrong idea. I didn’t know about Melissa, but there was no way I was going to put that money on any of the dancers.
“Too bad the guys aren’t dancing tonight. Now that would be fun.”
I smiled and nodded. Though for me, having a strange guy rub against me was too much like being back with my ex. You just knew he’d been rubbing those parts against God only knew how many other people. I wouldn’t have sex with my ex if he covered his junk with an entire box of condoms.
A man in his fifties, with gray hair and a beer gut to rival Jessica Simpson’s pregnancy belly, stumbled over to our table and offered us some wine and a good time if we both went back to his place with him. Though disgusted by the invite, we kindly turned down his offer. Unhappy with our response, the drunk called us dykes before stumbling off.
“What a jerk,” Melissa said.
“Look around, the room is full of them.”
I took my own advice. Most of the guys were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. There were several tables where the groups of men were in suits and ties. I guessed watching a bunch of women dance around half-naked was just what a busy businessman needed to unwind at the end of the day.
For a moment I thought I saw someone who looked familiar in the back of the room just past the bar. When I blinked he was gone. Convinced I’d imagined Kevin, I turned back around. The charming atmosphere had me eager to get the job done so I could go home and get out of the ridiculous outfit. I also wanted to spend about an hour in the shower to remove the grime I couldn’t see or feel but was sure was there.
I stood up and was pushed back down into my seat.
“Don’t go now. I want to play.”
One of the strippers was standing over me, wearing a few strips of cloth, waving her boobs in my face. Over the music I could hear Melissa’s laughter.
“Uh, I…I’m not…”
“I can tell this is your first time. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll be gentle.”
“Don’t, I’m not gay.”
“Neither am I. I’m bisexual. There are just too many wonderful choices out there to limit yourself.”
“Okay.”
“So why don’t you come in the back with me? I’ll give you a private show.”
“No, no, no. I can’t. Sorry. Melissa…”
“Sorry, she’s with me. I’m trying to loosen her up some.”
“That sounds like fun. Here’s my number. If the two of you ever want to make it a threesome, give me a call.” With that she got her boobs out of my face and moved on to the next table.
I turned and glared at Melissa. “Stop laughing or I swear I’ll give her your number.”
“Okay, jeesh, lighten up. I do have one question—real or fake?”
“Bitch. Fake, I think.”
Melissa laughed and tried to cover it with a cough.
“Okay, I’m going over to make my move.”
“On the stripper or…”
“Tell me again, why are we friends?”
“Because not many others would put up with us.”
“True.”
I grabbed money from my purse and made my way over to the bar. As luck would have it, a spot next to my target opened up. I slid in, careful to gently bump into his knee. “Oops, sorry.”
“No problem. Let me buy you a beer?”
“Sure.”
He gestured to the empty stool next to him. I sat down and brushed my hand across his thigh. My new friend ordered our drinks and I watched the bartender open my bottle and set it in front of me. For the next twenty minutes Mr. Possible Cheater’s hands began to roam. I drank half my beer, getting the courage I needed to sit still and not dump it on his head. Besides, I figured it would be a waste of a good beer.
Having downed his own bottle of courage, he leaned forward and put his tongue in my ear while his hand groped my breast. I pushed his hand away and asked him if he wanted to go somewhere more private. In answer he grabbed my hand and rubbed it against his crotch. Oh, I had most definitely gotten his attention. If there weren’t enough pictures already, then that was too freaking bad. As if on cue, my contact strode over and put his arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, baby, sorry I’m late.”
“I thought you’d ditched me.”
“So, what, you were heading out with this guy?”
“No, of course not, honey. I was just sitting here having a beer and I figured since you weren’t here, I was going to go home.”
“Well, now that I’m here, let’s go grab a table.”
“Yeah, great.” I looked at Mr. Possible Cheater’s face and smiled. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
We watched him walk away and out the door.
“Now there goes a very frustrated man.”
“Thanks for the rescue.”
“No problem. I got lots of great shots.”
“Thank God. Now if only I could go home and wash off the sickening feelings.”
“Good luck with that. Here, this should help.” He handed me a check for three hundred and fifty dollars.
“Wait a minute. This is more than we agreed to.”
“Keep it. You earned it.”
I walked back to the table and found Melissa talking to the guys at the next table. Eager to leave but not wanting to seem rude, I sat down and grabbed my now warm beer. I finished it off and waited for her to finish her conversation. Finally, Melissa introduced me, using a character name from one of her books, to her two new buddies. When it became obvious we weren’t going home to have sex with them, they turned their attention back to the performances on stage.
“So I take it you got what you needed?”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
“Great. Now we can celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“Well, your job is done and I turned my latest book in to my editor this afternoon.”
“Congrats.”
“Thank you. Where are the waitresses? Oh, heck with it. I’m going to go to the bar and get us a couple beers.”
Feeling weird, I grabbed my purse and headed for the bathroom. On my way I bumped into someone I could have sworn was Brian’s jerky friend, Kevin.
I opened my eyes and winced. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep out the bright light.
“I think she’s waking up.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Maybe you guys should wait outside.”
I recognized the voices as those of Melissa, my dad, and Grant. I opened my eyes and squinted. Sure enough, the faces staring down at me matched the voices. That was good but I could have done without the worried expressions. “What happened?”
“You’re in the hospital. Everything is going to be all right.”
Normally my dad’s voice put me at ease, but not this time. I looked at Melissa. Seeing her tear-streaked face, I began to cry. She grabbed my hand and refused to let go. Not even when a female officer named Gonzalez shooed everyone else, including my father, from the room.
It seemed despite my vigilance I had somehow been slipped a date rape drug. The last thing I remembered was getting up a
nd walking toward the bathroom. The next was waking up in the hospital. Everything between now and then was a complete blank. Melissa explained she’d waited for a few minutes at the table but when I didn’t return she had gone looking for me. She had found me slumped over the table in the back. She had called 911 and rode in the ambulance with me to the hospital. Once here she had called my dad. She had no idea why Grant was here. I’d have to worry about that later, much later, like maybe never.
There was good news. The doctor who stitched up my hands several days ago had evidently examined me and found no evidence of sexual assault. I was grateful. I was also a bit embarrassed. This guy was seeing way too much of my person without having bought me dinner first. Yeah, he was a doctor, but still. Officer Gonzalez asked me about a million questions. I was only able to answer six of them. When it became obvious I was going to be of no help, she left. My father returned to the room without Grant, for which I was grateful.
I was confined to the hospital bed for several hours before I was finally released. My dad drove Melissa and me back to my place. Once there he insisted we stay in the car while he checked out my apartment. Once he deemed it bad guy free, Melissa and I went inside. He left after she promised to stay the night. Too tired to argue or traverse the stairs, I curled up on the couch.
Chapter Ten
Friday
I awoke to the smell of bacon and coffee. If there was a better way to start the morning, besides great sex, I couldn’t think of it. For a brief moment I thought maybe I was imagining the smell. Melissa certainly couldn’t cook breakfast, or anything else for that matter, and I didn’t think someone broke into my apartment to cook me breakfast. Who would do that? Then it came to me, my mother.
Normally I would be thrilled at a free meal cooked with love by her. The downside was my dad had obviously told her what had happened last night. Cooking was her way of dealing with stress, plus she was just so good at it. I closed my eyes and wondered how long I could pretend to be asleep. It took all of about thirty seconds before my growling stomach had me off the couch and walking into the kitchen.
Death By High Heels (The Kim Murphy PI Series Book 1) Page 15
