The Art of Sin

by Alexandrea Weis

  She took in the sparse dressing room. “I don’t know how you guys put up with such drab rooms. You could use a little color in here, along with some more furniture.”

  “Well, we guys don’t really care about color, only functionality.”

  She eased her way closer to him. “You know, I have a lot of influence over my husband. If you wanted to stay here, maybe even become a headliner, I could make that possible.”

  Grasping the suggestive nature of her offer, Grady’s stomach clenched. “What would I have to do to get such a recommendation from you, Mrs. Harrison?”

  She slowly ran her index finger down the center of his broad, muscular chest. “We could come up with some kind of an arrangement. I’m not a difficult woman to please. In fact, you may like what I can do for you.” Her finger skirted over washboard abs to the edge of the towel hugging his hips.

  He eyed her finger. “What would your husband say?”

  She was about to reply when Lewis walked into the room, carrying a black tray with a small bucket of ice and two shot glasses filled with a light golden liquid. When he spied Mrs. Harrison, he simply nodded his head.

  “Mrs. Harrison, how are you this evening?”

  Mrs. Harrison gave Lewis a flirty smile. “Wonderful, Lewis. Caught your show tonight.” She backed away from Grady. “Your wings were on crooked. Might want to fix that before you go on again.” She slowly glided toward the door. “I look forward to seeing you again, Grady.”

  Lewis waited as Mrs. Harrison sashayed into the hallway. After she was gone, he turned his soft brown eyes to Grady.

  “Let me guess.” He came toward Grady, balancing the black tray in his hands. “She promised to make you a headliner in exchange for a private dance in her bedroom.”

  Grady reached for one of the shot glasses on the tray. “Yeah, something like that.” He tossed back the drink.

  He winced as the tequila burned his throat. Still grimacing, he put the glass down on the table beside him.

  Lewis removed the ice bucket from the tray and handed it to Grady. “She’s propositioned every new guy in the joint. Rumor has it she’s been hitting on every new male recruit her husband signs up for years, and he knows nothing.”

  Grady took the bucket back to his chair and sat down. He gently eased his right hand into the ice, flinching when the cold hit his tender finger.

  “Matt Harrison doesn’t strike me as a stupid man. He’s got to suspect, or doesn’t care,” he concluded.

  Lewis took the other shot glass from the black tray and placed the tray on the table next to Grady. “Oh, he cares all right. Word is, two years back, Matt hired some guy to headline at one of his clubs, but blackballed him when he found him and the missus going at it in their bedroom.” Lewis gulped back his shot of tequila and then sucked in a deep breath to ease the bite of the alcohol. “I heard the guy works as a bartender somewhere in the city. It’s the only gig he can get nowadays.”

  Grady’s curiosity peaked at the mention of the story. “Any idea who the guy is?”

  Lewis shrugged and placed his glass and Grady’s back on the tray. “Don’t know his name, only his story, but you don’t strike me as the stupid kind. I suspect you have no interest in taking her up on her offer.”

  Grady cast his eyes to the ice bucket. “No interest whatsoever. She’s not my type.”

  Lewis picked up the black tray. “She’s not anyone’s type. Every guy I’ve known that has danced here has stayed away from her. Only guy she ever got friendly with was Francois, who worked here a few weeks back, and he was more like one of those gay husbands women like to acquire. She used to take him shopping with her. Matt wasn’t too pleased about their friendship. He shipped Francois back to France as soon as he could.” Lewis went to the door. “No, best thing is to stay as far away from Beverly Harrison as you can get.”

  “Beverly?” Grady pressed, feeling a tickle of concern.

  Lewis paused at the door. “Yeah, her name is Beverly, but she prefers Bev.” He nodded to the tray in his hands. “I’m gonna get this back before Matt finds out I swiped some Corona Gold from the bar.” Lewis strode out the door.

  Grady sat back in his chair, mulling over the gossip about Mrs. Harrison. He suspected the Beverly Doug had mentioned earlier that morning had to be the same Mrs. Beverly Harrison he had just met.

  Grady knew how it felt to find your wife in bed with another man. He recalled many a night when he wanted to beat the crap out of the lawyer his wife had left him for. Sense, and a hefty fear of legal repercussions, had kept Grady from carrying out his twisted fantasy. Somehow, he did not think Matt Harrison would be the kind of man to show the same restraint if he ever discovered Doug with his wife again. The first time he had taken away Doug’s livelihood. The next time, Grady reasoned, Matt Harrison would probably take away a whole lot more.

  Chapter 6

  The following Saturday night, Grady was leaving for the club when he ran into Al coming down the stairs from her third-floor apartment. She had on a fitted pair of casual black slacks that hugged her slim waist and hips. Her light blue silk top made her gray eyes appear even more captivating. She had swept her long blonde hair to the side, but left it free about her left shoulder. As he gaped at her figure, the silky shine of her hair, and the light application of makeup on her creamy skin, Grady felt his longing for her burn in his veins.

  “Heading to the club?” Her eyes drifted to the garment bag in his left hand and the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  Trying not to stare at her breasts, Grady cleared his throat and shifted his attention to his watch. “Ah, yeah. I’ve got to head over and get ready for the eight o’clock show.”

  “You don’t leave your things at the club?”

  “I learned a long time ago that costumes disappear when you leave them in a dressing room. Exuberant fans, looking for souvenirs, take them.” He found his eyes returning to her outfit. “You look nice. Are you going out with your boyfriend?”

  She crossed the landing and went to the steps to the first floor. “No, I have a business meeting.”

  He cocked a skeptical brow at her. “Business meeting? On a Saturday night? You expect me to buy that?”

  She ignored him and made her way down the steps. “If you must know, the anesthesia group I work for has a meeting once a month for all the nurses and doctors they employ. Usually, our meetings are at a very nice restaurant in the city, so we will be more encouraged to attend.”

  “What restaurant?” he inquired, following her down the stairs.

  “Emeril’s Delmonico’s on St. Charles Avenue.”

  “Fancy place, I hear.”

  When she stepped onto the first floor, she asked, “How’s the finger?”

  He halted midway down the steps and held up the shoddy bandage job he had done on his right hand. “Still hurts like hell.”

  She pointed to his hand. “Is that your handiwork?”

  He nodded. “I have to remove the bandage for the show every night. I can’t go on stage with my fingers taped together.”

  “Why not? What difference would it make?”

  “It interferes with my performance.” He took the last few steps and landed on the entrance floor. “I have to make sure the women who come to see me get what they pay for, and they don’t pay to see a man with a bandage on his hand.”

  Her gray eyes radiated with that familiar glint of distaste. “Honestly, Grady, do you think any of those women would even notice if your hand was bandaged? I think they’re paying more attention to your body than your fingers.”

  “You don’t know that, Allison.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t start calling me Allison again, and I do know, Grady. Women who go to your kind of club don’t care what you have on your hands, as long as they have an unencumbered view of the rest of your body.”

  He was amused by her disdain. “Have you ever been to my kind of club?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped.

  �
�All these years you’ve been renting to male strippers and never went to their shows?”

  “I’m just a landlord, not a fan, Grady.”

  “Then perhaps, you should come to see what I do before you pass judgment on it. The Roman writer, Publilius Syrus, said, ‘A hasty judgment is the first step to recantation.’”

  “Where do you come up with these quotes? And I wasn’t passing judgment, I was stating a fact,” she argued, the tone of her voice steadily rising.

  “How can it be a fact when you have never even seen what I do?” Grady proposed, grinning. “I would think someone as educated as yourself would at least consider seeing what goes on at ‘my kind of club’ before they start making blanket statements about what audience members will or will not notice. You have no idea how discerning my audience can be.”

  “‘Discerning?’” she snickered. “Really, Grady, it’s not fine dining. It’s a bunch of drunk women watching a man take off his clothes. How discerning do you have to be?”

  “Why don’t you come tonight and find out?”

  She adamantly shook her head. “I have my dinner meeting.”

  “What about after your meeting? I have an eleven o’clock show you can make.”

  She gave him an apprehensive side-glance. “I don’t think so.”

  His grin widened, knowing he was breaking down her defenses. “Are you embarrassed to be seen at my club?”

  “I’m not a snob, Grady.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  “Are you going to let this go or pester me until I give in?”

  He tilted a little closer to her, still grinning with delight. “I am a great pester…er.”

  She lightly chuckled and Grady was momentarily swept away by her laugh. Al may have looked like a little girl, but her tinkling, feminine laugh hinted at the sexy and insightful woman hidden underneath.

  Her laugh abated and she nodded. “All right. I’ll stop by after my dinner meeting. Then I’ll pass judgment on your club.”

  The thrill of victory rippled through him. “After, we can come back here and you can change my bandage for me.”

  She playfully shoved him away. “You’re impossible.”

  “Not impossible, incorrigible.”

  “That, too.”

  At that moment, the buzzer for the front gate resonated throughout the foyer. Al went to the intercom box by the front doors and pressed the speaker button.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Hi,” an exuberant female voice said over the intercom. “I’m Cathy, here to see Grady in apartment C.”

  Al lifted her finger from the button while swerving her gray eyes to Grady. “Is this the same Cathy I met the other night?”

  Grady’s blue eyes darted about in panic. “Shit!”

  “Obviously you’re not excited about seeing your obtuse little friend again.”

  Perfect timing! He could not believe his bad luck. “She thinks we have a date tonight, or I think it’s tonight … I’m not sure.”

  “Did you plan a date with her or not, Grady?”

  “I wasn’t really paying attention when she mentioned it. I was thinking about … something else.”

  Grady had been thinking of Al, but he could not tell her that.

  He glimpsed the long hallway to his left. “Tell her I’m not here. I’ll sneak out the back door.”

  “You’re not that cruel. You have to tell her you can’t make it tonight, not stand her up,” Al insisted.

  “I am that cruel with crazy women. And she is crazy.”

  Al furrowed her brow, momentarily lost in thought. “Okay, I have an idea,” she eventually asserted. “We’ll go out together, have a little chat with her, and then walk to my car.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do you want to see her again?”

  He emphatically sliced his hand through the air. “Hell no!”

  “Then, we have to give her a reason not to keep coming back. I know her type, Grady. She’ll keep stopping by until she is scared off.” Al went to the front doors. “Come on.”

  Grady rushed to her side. “What do you mean by ‘scared off’?”

  She put her hand on the ornate brass door handle. “Just keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of that,” Grady muttered.

  Al pulled one of the heavy doors open and the late afternoon sun blanketed the front steps with its vibrant, yellow glow. Beyond the short walkway, standing behind the high black gate and smiling eagerly, was Cathy.

  Seeing her very snug jeans and tight pink tank top, made Grady want to run back inside. Al pushed him out the door, snickering with amusement.

  “Please tell me what you are going to do,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “No,” Al softly returned. “I’m enjoying watching you squirm.”

  “You’re heartless.”

  “You have no idea,” she added, heading down the steps.

  When they reached the gate, Al turned the brass handle and allowed Cathy to come bounding up to Grady. After planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips, Al spoke up beside them.

  “Did you come to see Grady off?”

  “See him off?” Cathy spun around to Al, appearing surprised. “Where is he going?” Her eyes flew back to Grady, and then she saw the bags he was carrying.

  “I was just taking him to the airport for his flight to Atlanta.”

  Grady’s eyes warily veered to Al.

  “Atlanta?” Cathy repeated. “What’s in Atlanta? Another software job?”

  Al smiled, looking like a cat that had just swallowed the pet canary. Grady had a sickening feeling that this was going to go in a direction he was never going to be able live down.

  “No, his doctors are in Atlanta,” Al pronounced.

  Grady could feel the groan rising up his throat.

  Cathy’s green eyes shot to Grady’s face. “What doctors? Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

  “I, ah, just found out about it,” he told her.

  “Yes, he’s still getting over the shock of learning about his diagnosis.” Al patted his shoulder. “This has been very difficult for him. It’s not every day you get exposed to such an uncomfortable disease.”

  “What disease?” Cathy pleaded, gaping from Al to Grady.

  Grady stared at Al, anxious to hear what she had to say.

  “You have to respect Grady’s medical confidentiality, Cathy. I am not at liberty to say.”

  “Please, I have to know,” Cathy implored. “I mean, have I been exposed, since we …?”

  Al frowned at Grady. “We should tell her.”

  At this point, Grady was so caught up in the theatrics that he was even curious to see what Al came up with. “Fine, I have nothing to hide from Cathy.”

  “All right.” Al faced Cathy. “It’s tinea cruris.”

  The look of horror Cathy gave them was quickly replaced by bewilderment. “What is that? Can I get it?” She backed away from Grady.

  Al sighed dramatically for effect. Grady ran his hand over his forehead, trying to hide his amusement. This was too much.

  “No, you are safe as long as you used condoms.” Al placed her hand on her chest. “I hope you can be discreet, Cathy. Once he gets treatment, he will be fine. I promise.”

  “He doesn’t look sick,” Cathy argued.

  Al leaned toward her, dropping her voice. “Patients with this disease never look sick, unless it goes untreated, and then … well, things tend to fall off.”

  Cathy gasped and her eyes immediately went to Grady’s crotch.

  Grady wasn’t sure if he would ever live this down. Next to being found naked at sixteen with Linda Tipton in the back of her father’s car, this was the most embarrassing moment he had ever experienced.

  Cathy pressed her lips tightly together, as if deciding if she could believe what she was hearing. “I promise your secret is safe with me,” she finally said to Grady. />
  Out of the corner of his eye, Grady saw Al taking in every moment of the mini-drama with an enthusiastic smirk. He cleared his throat.

  “That’s why I’m getting treatment right away. Once I get back from Atlanta, we can get together again.”

  Cathy raised her blonde brows. “Ah, I don’t know if I will be able to.” She took another step back. “School is getting real busy, and I have …. Why don’t I call you when I’m free?”

  Grady nodded and lowered his eyes to the cracked sidewalk, fighting to keep his smile from getting the better of him. “Thank you for coming to see me off, Cathy.”

  She nodded her head, gave him one last going over with her green eyes, and sighed. She thumbed the French Quarter behind her. “I should go. Good luck, Grady.” She spun around and began walking away.

  As Cathy’s figure grew smaller in the distance, Grady turned to Al. “Jock itch? Are you kidding me?”

  Al shrugged. “It was all I could think of. Anyway, I figured she would buy it. I told you she wasn’t too bright.”

  “She could go home and Google it, then what?”

  Al gave him one of her playful smirks. “I seriously doubt she even knows how to spell Google.”

  “So was that your idea of rescuing me or humiliating me?”

  She smacked the gate closed. “A little of both, I think.”

  “Might I ask why you did that?”

  “Because you didn’t care for the girl, but still you had your fun with her the other night. Then you act all shocked when she shows up here, expecting you to be her boyfriend. You needed to suffer a little.”

  “Suffer for what? And I never said I was her boyfriend,” he defended.

  Al turned to the right and headed along the sidewalk. “Yes, but you slept with her and she thought that meant something to you.”

  “It was just sex; it wasn’t a lifetime commitment,” Grady countered, walking alongside her.

  She paused at the paved driveway. “I always find it amazing how men see sex as just a rudimentary function, like eating or going to the bathroom, but for women there is an emotional element to it.”

  “I know that,” Grady assured her. “Don’t categorize all men in the same bastard class, Allison. Some of us give a damn about relationships.”