Tsea

by Arthurs, Nia

  His words wrapped around me like a blanket on a chilly night. I could do nothing but stare into his eyes, spellbound. Carlos drew me by my shoulders and kissed my forehead softly. I gripped his arms, the chaste touch rocking my world more than anything I’d ever experienced.

  Without another word, he stepped back and disappeared through the door. I leaned against the back of it, faintly recalling his reminder to lock up. Tonight was the longest that we’d ever spoken and I was still left with more questions than answers.

  Who was Carlos Fuentes and why on earth was I disappointed that he’d kissed me on the forehead and not on the lips?

  I finally gathered my composure and leaned away from the door. Taking off the lights, one by one, I took a bath and then prepared for bed. Unfortunately, I could not rest. The shadows shifted and I imagined The Executioner, a faceless figure, looming over my bed. I saw the sharp tool that he used to murder his victims. It wigged me out so, when I eventually drifted off, I dreamed of severed heads and tortured screams.

  Stoker hated it when they screamed. This little one was as loud as another he remembered in Belize City. Surely she had pursued the wrong career. With lungs like that, this little missy could have made it big in opera.

  “Sh, sh,” he winced. The abandoned property was far enough away from civilization and deep underground so that no one would hear her screams.

  But they were still annoying.

  The girl continued to make a racket. Stoker sighed and doubled her dose. The drugs would have to work double time to get her to shut up. He turned around and stared at her face. She had such pretty grey eyes and an innocent air. What on earth was she doing in a strip club like Mickey’s.

  Something about her reminded him of his mother. She’d been small too, birdlike. The men that paid for her company often slapped her around just because they could. It angered Stoker, reminded him of his impotency.

  This cruel world had to realize just how dangerous these women were. The police had managed to hush his other gift. Surely they would not be able to quiet the next sacrifice.

  Chapter 7

  Whether or not I’d wanted to stay away from Mickey’s, I was summoned the next day. All the Mickey Girls past and present stood in a circle around the scene of the crime as police officers roamed the room.

  “Why are we here?” Lila inquired, tossing her dark hair behind her shoulder. Her creamy, fair skin was perfectly made up in the light of day.

  “I think they want to question us.” I replied.

  None of the other girls knew about the serial killer yet. I was wrestling with the desire to warn them. I’d decided to sit back and let the police handle things their way for the time being. If they didn’t say anything, I would speak up. Our lives were too important to leave things to chance.

  “Why didn’t they just do it at the precinct?” Leah, Lila’s twin, pointed out.

  “I don’t know.” I shrugged.

  “And where’s the new girl?” Iva inquired. “I thought all the Mickey Girls were supposed to be there.”

  “Probably nursing a hangover. Manuel’s covering for her. She was pretty plastered last night.” Lila laughed.

  Before I could add my own insult to the mix, a short man in the beige and blue police uniform entered from the direction of Manuel’s office. The deputies that were roaming the hall stiffened so I figured that the newcomer was someone very important. He held a clipboard in his hands and walked with an upright stature.

  Manuel followed close behind him, his face inscrutable. For the first time, I experienced a mixture of feelings when I looked at him. After the way Carlos’s touch had affected me last night… something had changed. My tie to Mickey’s was closely intertwined with my affections for Manuel. He was always surrounded by beautiful women in scanty clothing. I liked to keep an eye on him.

  “Good morning, ladies. I’m Detective Sheldon.” The officer with skin leathered from years beneath the hot, Caribbean sun, and dark brown eyes, glanced at each of us. He seemed to hold a general distaste which most Mickey Girls had become immune to.

  There were two different types of men: the kind that undressed us with their eyes, even if we were out of costume, and the kind that judged us. Few found a sweet middle ground. Mickey Girls were so used to the differing reactions that we could barely tell the difference anymore.

  “Good morning,” we returned as if we were back in primary school and greeting a teacher that had just entered the classroom.

  “Last night, the body and head of one … April Kelly, was thrown into the premises of Mickey’s Club.” He cleared his throat. “You have all been called today for questioning.”

  The girls gasped and I inhaled right along with them. What was going on?

  “You can’t think any of us did it!” Lila yelled. “We were all right in here when it happened!”

  “We weren’t even on duty that night!” Iva Hickley defended on behalf of the other Old Guards. The Old Guards were girls that had been with Mickey’s since its inception. Though some, like Iva and April, had moved on to other positions in more formal escort services, they could be counted on to return to Mickey’s in a pinch.

  “Anyone that has any acquaintance with the deceased may hold pertinent information in the apprehension of the suspect. You will not be placed under arrest. I simply ask that you take precautions.”

  “Are you saying this could happen to us?” Leah held a hand to her throat.

  I stared grimly at Detective Sheldon, wondering if he’d give us the full story today or keep it to himself. “These are perilous times, ma’am. It’s important to be safe, just in case.”

  It was a rather vague runaround, but I accepted it. The girls had been duly warned.

  “We’ll start with Ms. Borden?” He glanced at his clipboard.

  “Okay!” Lila and Leah stepped forward as one.

  The detective shot them incredulous looks but shrugged his shoulders and walked into the VIP lounge.

  “Just sit tight, girls.” Manuel assured the rest of us. “This will all be over soon and then we can get back to our lives.” He dipped his head and then stalked back to his office. I followed him, scurrying in my white button-down blouse, skinny jeans and black heels.

  “Hey,” I smiled when I locked the door behind us. Moving to where he sat on the other end of the desk, I massaged his shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

  “How do you think I’m holding up?” He snapped.

  I winced. Manuel wasn’t mad at me right now, I reminded myself, he was caught in an impossible situation. I forgave the tone and continued to run my hands down his shoulders.

  “What did the police find out?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” he ran a hand through his thick hair and down his temples. “I’m going to have to close down while they scour the place for evidence. At least I talked them out of running yellow tape around the whole building.”

  “So we’ve got a few free nights then?” I asked hopefully. Manuel and I hadn’t had a moment to ourselves in a while and with Essence moving in on the scene, I wanted to make sure we were still good. Whatever I felt with Carlos was temporary. Manuel and I had history.

  “No way,” Manuel shook his head and grinned, his dark eyes twinkling. “I’m thinking of having a pop up.”

  “A pop up?” I inquired.

  “It’s Saturday night. Our biggest night yet.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “It sucks that April croaked, but I figure there’s a way to play this so I don’t lose too many sales.”

  Something about his insensitive tone rubbed me the wrong way. I drew back. “Do you hear yourself?” I flicked a tendril of hair away from my face. “Someone died. She was a Mickey Girl, a friend. That’s a big deal.”

  “Baby,” Manuel stood, the office chair creaking with the movement. He advanced with his arms out toward me and an easy smile on his face. He wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed my neck. “Don’t be like that.” Manuel ran his hands down my arm. I melted beneat
h his touch as all my misgivings fled “You know you’re my favorite.”

  I preened. That’s right. I was number one. I kissed him on the lips, hard. “You better not forget it.”

  Chapter 7

  Detective Sheldon slapped a file on the desk before me. I glanced up at him, unmoved by the show of power. I knew exactly what was going on here and his intimidation tactics did not move me.

  “How do you know April Kelly, Ms. Hunter?”

  I leaned back on the velvet seats, feeling the cushions depress beneath my hands. The VIP section was rarely used. The transparent glass meant that everyone below could identify the customers indulging in booze and women with little trouble. Most of the people that employed this raised section of the club were foreigners with little fear that their extra-curricular activities could get back to their lives back home.

  “She was a friend,” I crossed my legs and watched my black heels sway.

  The detective picked up on my attitude and frowned. “Anything more?”

  “She was the one who introduced me to Mickey’s. I owe her everything.”

  Detective Sheldon snorted.

  I cut him a look.

  “Excuse my bluntness, ma’am but,” – his eyes shifted about the room – “this ain’t my definition of ‘everything’.”

  I leaned forward and folded my hands against my thighs. “I know that someone like you wouldn’t understand, Detective. That’s fine with me. But please don’t mock my lifestyle.”

  “My apologies.” He turned away from the topic and flitted through a myriad of questions about April, most of which I could not answer. We were fellow Mickey Girls, dancers bonded through the strip club. We didn’t hang out otherwise. Not for a long time and when she’d left last month, I hadn’t heard anything from her.

  “Now that that’s out of the way,” I glanced at Detective Sheldon, “what can you tell me about The Executioner, Detective?”

  He gaped, his large eyes going wide and crinkling around the edges. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered, quickly regaining his stoic disposition, “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “I’m amazed that you’ve kept it out of the media for so long, though if I could hazard to take a guess, I can imagine other club owners, pimps, and escort businesses wouldn’t want the public to know too much about their activities anyway.”

  For a minute, Detective Sheldon looked as if he’d deny my claims, instead he glared at me. “That’s classified information, missy. Who gave you that name?”

  “A source.” I replied firmly and then I stood and advanced, lowering my voice. “I’m not going to tell anyone,” – I admitted, thinking of Manuel and the flak Mickey’s would receive if news of the contents of that body bag last night ever got out – “but I need to know something.” I swallowed, “did she suffer?”

  The officer pulled at his collar. “This is none of your business,” he replied gruffly, “but no. She was already dead when he … removed her head.”

  I nodded slowly, feeling that gag reflexes working in my stomach. Poor April. “Do you know who’s next?” He seemed annoyed that I knew so much about something that had been kept hush-hush for a couple of years. When he continued to work his jaw and kept silent, I prodded. “Who?”

  “We don’t know,” Detective Sheldon glared at me. “We’ve never been able to call a pattern to his killings. He doesn’t work by any algorithm that we’ve seen. It’s why we haven’t been able to catch him yet.”

  “So, basically I could be his next target.” I slapped my palms against my thighs. The thought was incredibly frightening and a little liberating. Was this the last day anyone would see me alive?

  Once again, Detective Sheldon shuffled his feet, seeming incredibly uncomfortable. I knew I was pushing it, but when it came down to surviving, I’d do whatever I had to. I told Detective Sheldon so in no uncertain terms.

  “Look,” I unbuttoned the top of my shirt so that my cleavage was in full display. He coughed and angled his head but not before getting an eyeful. “I can easily pull one of your green deputies aside, do my thing, and get the information that I want.”

  “Ms. Hunter…” he began.

  “Yes?” I asked innocently as I pulled the clip from my hair and fluffed my curls out. It frizzed like crazy but I wanted to get my point across. Sending the Detective a sultry look that had drawn more grim-faced men to their knees, “Is there something that you want to ask me.”

  He pulled himself together. “You should carry yourself with more respect.”

  “Respect is not the topic here, Detective.” I walked slowly over to him, allowing my hips to sway the way they did when I danced. “I’m giving you a chance to save my dignity. I’d hate to have to distract one of your men for something that you can tell me.”

  He waved his hands over my chest. “For Heaven’s sake, cover that up.”

  I smiled victoriously and slid the buttons through the holes.

  Detective Sheldon sighed. “The Executioner is getting clumsy. It’s almost as if he wants to be found. He’s never thrown a body through a window before.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the window of opportunity for snatching him is now.” He glanced at me. “It also means that he’s acting on emotion. He’s angry. Angry at people like you. Angry that no one is giving him the recognition he thinks he deserves.”

  I glossed over the ‘people like you’ part and focused on the rest of the Detective’s warning. Perhaps Carlos’ hadn’t been too crazy when he’d insisted on walking me home last night. If a psycho-killer was escalating, I’d need all the protection I could get.

  “That’s enough for now, Ms. Hunter.” Detective Sheldon swept his hands toward the door. “I need to move on.” Nodding slowly, I walked toward the door. I stopped at the threshold and glanced back at the Detective. He had his hands in his pockets as he contemplated the clipboard on the table. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

  “Protect us,” I pleaded.

  He dipped his head. “I’ll do my best.”

  Even he sounded unsure of the promise. I frowned and left.

  Chapter 8

  Manuel’s idea to salvage our Saturday night sales was a pop-up show, invitation only. I had to admit, I was impressed by his ingenuity. Our regular spot was filled with police tape and crawling with feds. Manuel had placed a bouncer there to direct all our faithful customers to the pop-up location while he let all our previous and present patrons know of our new lineup.

  As I finished pulling up my fishnet stockings, I received a text from Manuel with the location. I smiled. I recognized the address as an old firehouse that had, ironically, burned down. The government invested a ton of money to renovate it but when the election year ended, it was still unfinished and unusable.

  At least for the firemen.

  I pulled my shoes unto my feet and stood, enjoying the clack of my heels against the tiled floors. Padding to the full length mirror in my bedroom, I observed my reflection. My curly hair was tied up in a long pony that descended to the small of my back. I’d done my makeup with a heavy hand, understanding that the lights would probably be harsher in the firehouse. My outfit was a small, black number that I’d paired with fishnets and black boots.

  Satisfied with the outfit, I slipped a jacket over my top and headed outside to catch a taxi. As I walked down the sidewalk in search of a cab, I was hyper aware of my surroundings. Detective Sheldon’s caution about The Executioner rang in my ears. For the first time, I wished my neighborhood was younger and hipper. Perhaps if people were hanging out on street corners, I would feel more comfortable.

  As it was, the entire sidewalk was completely deserted. A dog barked in the distance. Another howled in reply. The trees behind cement and chain link fences bent toward me, as if urging me to find safety. I heard a rustling sound and quickly whirled around, searching for any shadows that didn’t belong.

  All I saw was the lazy brush of an empty plastic bag on th
e street.

  I shivered and held my jacket tighter around my chest. Taxis usually ran a couple blocks away from my house. Only a few yards were left until I was in a more upbeat neighborhood.

  “Thwap!” My heart soared up to my throat as the sound disturbed the night. I jumped and glanced about, expecting a figure to dart out at any moment. No one walked behind me. Seriously unnerved, I quickened my footsteps, wondering if I should start running down the sidewalk and screaming for help.

  When I heard the muttered rasp of heavy breathing coming from directly behind me, I didn’t even bother turning around. Taking off like a shot, I managed to run a few paces in my stilted heels when I realized that the labored breath and rustling sounds had come from a stray dog that had managed to get into a neighbor’s garbage.

  I held my racing heart and chuckled at my own crazy imaginings. I was safe. I was completely and totally safe. I managed to find a taxi and arrived at the firehouse with little complications. The music was already thumping and shaking the walls by the time I greeted the bouncer and stepped through the doors of the new Mickey’s.

  Leah and Lila greeted me. The girls were decked out in matching costumes that exposed their flat, bronzed stomachs. “This place looks amazing!” I said in way of greeting.

  “Totally!” Leah responded in her heavy, Spanish accent.

  “Where’s Manuel?” I yelled above the music.

  “He’s over there.” Lila pointed to where Manuel was talking to the DJ. I swerved through the few customers holding drinks in their hands. Since it was a pop-up, the entertainment was only just beginning. Neither of the Old Guards had taken their places around the poles yet, though I saw Kensie doing her thing on an old man that looked about ready to keel over and die.