by Mia Thompson
Sapphire, Candy, and some of the other girls sat in silence observing the power struggle like they were watching a tennis match. Ginger wanted to wear a black, bathing-suit-style, one piece. Giles wanted her to wear a two-piece, red-laced bikini.
Sapphire hadn’t slept in forever. She was moody and as impatient as Giles. They were sucking away prime killer-finding time.
Ginger glared at her boss and tightened the strap on her robe in protest.
Giles threw his hands to the sky, mouthing, “Why me?” before turning to leave.
“I could have been someone!” Ginger shouted after him. “I could have been a Vegas showgirl, but I’m here for you!”
“Jesus Christ, just put it on!” Sapphire erupted, immediately regretting it. She tried to cover it up by looking behind her to see who may have said it.
Ginger didn’t fall for it. Sapphire swore the redhead’s hair turned into actual flames. Her muscles tensed, and in a second Ginger had grabbed Sapphire’s hair.
It would have been so easy to take Ginger’s free hand and twist her body into submission, but Sapphire was there to find the Stripper Slayer, and catty strippers didn’t even break the top-ten list of justified ass-whoopings. Although, there was a small…medium…mammoth-sized part of Sapphire that wanted to toss Ginger to the ground and shut her up, once and for all.
“Listen to me, Sapphire Two,” Ginger ordered an inch from Sapphire’s face. “Do you know why I don’t like you? You and your shitty dancing drags down the credibility of this place, which makes me lose money, which makes me angry. If you ever open your mouth again, I’ll cut your face and then we’ll see how long the cowboy wants you!” Ginger pinched the corners of Sapphire’s mouth together, pushing her lips out.
Sapphire was two seconds from head-butting her when Misty walked in and Ginger let go.
“Watch your back,” Ginger hissed, then strolled out the alley door. Her robe flew up in the wind, revealing her bare ass.
“Sapphire Two, are you okay?” Misty asked , sitting down by Sapphire’s mirror.
“Peachy.” Sapphire forced a smile.
“She is sunulvabeach. You want me talk to her? Maybe punch?”
“No, that’s okay,” Sapphire laughed.
“I am heppy today. Giles hev big news when I come in.” Misty turned to the mirror to fill in her lip liner. “I am number two. Not like you, bad number two, but good number two. After Ginger it is me.”
“That’s great.” There was something innocent and lovable about Misty. She was too good for the underworld of Los Angeles, and Sapphire felt the urge to help her get out of there. “Hey, Misty, isn’t there anything else you’d rather do? I know this sounds strange, but maybe I could help you. I mean, help you get away from here and have a different life. A good life.”
In the middle of applying her lipstick, Misty looked perplexed. “This is good life. In Russia I hev bad money. Bad name. Here I dance. I am Misty and I will finally hev my photo on the wall.”
“Aha,” Sapphire said, feeling foolish. Since she walked into the place, she assumed all the girls were there because it was their only option. Misty obviously loved her job. “Wait, what wall?”
“You hev not seen wall? Come.”
They walked to a corridor in the back where the wall featured rows of headshots.
“Number one girls and number two girls, the stars of the show.”
Sapphire scanned the wall. Ginger was the most recently added, then it went backwards chronologically. Next to her was Amber, the girl who got killed in the parking garage. And next to her…
“Giles says I will hev my picture taken on…”
“Misty,” Sapphire interrupted. “All the newest additions on the wall are dead.”
“I know. Giles tell police this. I tell police this. The police is sunulvabeach.”
This meant Sapphire would have to work her ass off to become part of the wall and…something much more important.
“Not Ginger,” Misty shrugged.
“No, not Ginger.” Sapphire started jogging back toward the dressing room. She ripped the back door open and smacked right into a dark figure.
“Jeez, I’m sorry.” The DJ stepped into the light.
“Have you seen Ginger?”
“Just saw her walk across the street.”
She sprinted to the other side of the road. The quiet night was interrupted by a scream.
“Please stop!”
The words bounced between the walls of the adobe buildings and up to Sapphire. It was definitely Ginger.
Sapphire turned the alley’s corner to see a car pulled over by a dumpster. Next to the car a dark figure was slamming Ginger’s head into the side of the container.
Ginger cried out every time she took another hit. The man dropped her to the ground then kicked her in the abdomen. She coughed, gasping for air.
“I’m gonna cut your face, bitch! And then what will you do?” He snarled and bent down to spit on her.
Sapphire bolted toward them, using a couple of wooden crates as stepping-stones. She jumped up onto the closed dumpster and leapt off, crashing down on him, her elbow smashing his head. A sharp pain exploded in her arm and she landed on the ground, hoping it hurt him more than it hurt her.
“What the fuck?!” he yelled, disoriented. He touched his bleeding forehead.
Sapphire sent a punch straight to his throat, and he grabbed it, wheezing.
“Run, Ginger!” Sapphire screamed as he attacked.
Ginger just stood there, staring at them in shock.
“I said GO!” Sapphire yelled, trying to fight the man off. But he was stronger than her. He pulled her to the ground and sat on top of her.
Sapphire clawed at his hand as his thumbs pushed in on her esophagus. She fought for air, feeling the panic. Her lungs ached and darkness closed in on her.
She forced her hands away from his grip, and her thumbs dug into his eyeballs.
When he yelled out and let go, Sapphire slammed her head into his nose. His eyes rolled around for a bit before he fell backward, his head hitting the pavement with a crack.
Sapphire clamored to her hands and knees. Her eyes watered and her lungs burned as they filled with air. She grabbed the dumpster and stood, feeling her head throb.
“First of all, OUCH!” She pointed to her forehead. “Second of all…” she glared at Ginger, who still hadn’t moved a muscle, “since you insisted on staying, couldn’t you have at least clonked him over the head with something?!”
“How…how…did you do that?” Ginger’s voice was a mix of confusion and admiration.
Sapphire shrugged to avoid the question. She looked down at her killer, ready to take in the glory of another successful capture. Her eyes fell on the scattered hundred dollar bills that lay on the ground. Her glory was replaced by doubt.
“Ginger, please tell me he wasn’t robbing you?”
“No…,” Ginger pushed out. “He…he’s…”
Sapphire looked from Ginger, to the unconscious man on the ground, and back to Ginger. “What?!”
Ginger gazed down at her feet in silence.
The robe she refused to take off had opened during her struggle and Sapphire noticed the old green and purple bruises lining her ribs. The marks would have gone unnoticed in the black one-piece. The man on the ground was not the Stripper Slayer.
“He’s your boyfriend,” Sapphire said, finishing Ginger’s sentence.
Ginger’s aggression made sense now. She was like an abused child-turned-bully.
“It’s not like that. It’s not what you think.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t stay with him because I love him. I stay with him because if I leave, he’ll kill me.”
“As opposed to now when he was a big teddy bear?”
Ginger closed her robe. “He takes my tips. If I do well nothing happens. If I do badly, like this week, he thinks I’ve been stealing the rest of the money. I tried to tell him that I lost my best regular,
but he didn’t believe me.”
The cowboy. A pang of guilt hit Sapphire.
They stood in silence, their breath the only thing filling the empty alley.
“If you can do that…” Ginger nodded down to her boyfriend, “why didn’t you do that to me?”
Sapphire cleared her throat. “I specialize more in psychotic men.”
“Oh.” Ginger still looked confused.
“You should leave.”
“I told you, I can’t,” Ginger said. “He knows everyone in L.A. He’ll find me.”
“No, I mean leave the state. Go be a showgirl. Take the money and drive straight to Vegas.”
Hope flashed in Ginger’s eyes and then faded. “That’s his car, he won’t let me get one, and he’ll report it stolen if I take it.”
Sapphire closed her eyes as she dug into her pocket, saddened to the depths of her soul by what she was about to do.
“Here.” Sapphire hung her head and raised the car keys to Ginger’s face. “Take mine.”
“What?” Ginger looked at the keys in disbelief.
“It’s the old Volkswagen on the third floor. It’s held together by duct tape and smells kind of like Cheetos, but it’ll take where you need to go. The door’s broken so you have to give it three kicks and a knee to open it. There’s a couple of grand taped under the passenger seat. Use that, too.”
“But…” Ginger tried.
“I’d say you have a few hours before he wakes up, so go home, grab only the essentials, and get on the road.”
A slight smile reached Ginger’s lips. Tears of relief sprang from her eyes.
“Thank you, Sapphire Tw-…Sapphire.” Then she was gone, leaving Sapphire with the unconscious douchebag on the ground. So she did what any good citizen would do. She stripped him of all his clothes and locked him in the trunk of his own car, then tossed his keys in the gutter.
That ought to slow him down.
Sapphire could hear Amazing Grace as she held a mental funeral for her beloved Volkswagen. She thought of all the good times they’d had together—all the serial killers they’d caught.
When she walked back into the Golden Mirage she smiled, knowing two things for sure: Unbeknownst to Ginger, she had just saved her life, and there was a new spot open on the Golden Mirage’s wall.
It belonged to Sapphire.
Chapter 15
Barry and Aston stared at the computer screen. Barry: half dead, eyelids closing. Aston: eyes wide open, junked up on gallons of coffee.
Capelli had left the office hours earlier to go run some errands and had never returned. It was fine by Aston. He and Capelli had spent so much time together lately that he’d forgotten why he liked the dude in the first place.
Aston put the cup to his mouth and emptied the last of it before knocking Barry on the arm. He kept his eyes glued to the screen.
“Barry. Out. More.” They’d stopped speaking in full sentences seven hours ago.
Barry yawned, grabbed the cup, and went to refill it. “Need break.”
“Take five.”
“Longer. Need sleep.”
“Sleep when dead.”
Barry sat back down, disappointed. He handed the fresh cup back to Aston, who took it without letting the screen out of his sight. He didn’t want to miss a second. He could be one pixel away from deciphering her face.
Barry closed his eyes again and his head soon fell on Aston’s shoulder. Aston pulled it away and Barry’s face smacked into the desk.
The newbie swore, confused, as Aston’s phone rang.
“Ridder,” Aston said, eyes still on the screen.
“I have a problem,” Capelli said.
“For the last time, if it lasts more than four hours, go see a doctor.”
“No. I accidently got a bit hammered while running errands. I can’t drive back.”
“Take a cab.”
“Spent all my cash on the errands and the ATM fee here is like five bucks. Freakin’ robbery if you ask me.”
“So when you say errands, you mean strip club.”
“What did you think I meant, picking up my pink skirt at the dry cleaner? Come on, man.”
Aston sighed, letting his gaze stray from the computer. He blinked, letting his eyes regain moisture. “Where are you?”
“Downtown. Place called Golden Mirage.”
Aston hung up and turned to Barry. “Going to a strip club to pick up Capelli.”
Barry’s face lit up and he stood, suddenly awake. “We’re going to a strip club?”
“I’m going to a strip club. Call me with updates.”
Barry sunk back down in disappointment, and Aston moved through the station.
“Hey, Ridder, congrats, I just heard!” Officer Fatso smacked Aston’s back as he passed by. “Laura just told me. Nice.”
His name wasn’t actually Fatso, but Aston could never remember it. If Laura the receptionist knew, the Serial Catcher case was no longer on the DL. This was just a taste of the congratulations that would come after the Serial Catcher was behind bars.
Aston smiled as he stepped into the elevator. He and Capelli would become legends at every station in So-Cal, and Aston would pack up his shit and head for the FBI’s training facilities. Everything he wanted would be waiting for him there…
His smile fell.
Minus one heiress.
* * * * *
Sapphire threw back the shot and sent the empty glass back to Buddy. Ten minutes and forty-seven seconds left until Sapphire had to go back on that God-awful stage and try to rock the pants off the horn dogs in the audience to make the wall.
“Another?” Buddy asked and Sapphire nodded.
She’d never had a job before, but she’d assumed that drinking on the clock was frowned upon until Giles turned to her in the dressing room. “Sapphire, go have Buddy give you a bloody cocktail if it means you will stop dancing like my blimey Aunt Mildred!”
He was upset about losing his star, and Sapphire didn’t want to argue.
She leaned against the bar and scanned the crowd. Joseph Young was nowhere to be found.
Good boy, she smiled. If she ever ran into him again, in a non-serial-killing setting, she’d pat his head and give him a treat.
“Buddy…” Sapphire turned to him as he put the shot glass in front of her. “Am I really that bad?”
Buddy sighed as he wiped the counter the way only a wise bartender could. “When I see you up there it doesn’t look like you’re having a lot of fun. It looks like you’re uncomfortable, which makes the audience uncomfortable, which leads to people throwing their shoes at you.”
“So I’m supposed to have a big grin on my face? How do I look like I’m having fun?”
“Come here and I’ll share the secret.”
Sapphire leaned in closer.
“You have…” he tossed a few looks over his shoulders. “Fun.”
Mind blowing, really. Sapphire gave him a stare but couldn’t help but laugh.
“Look at Misty.” He pointed at the stage where Misty was rallying the crowd with the sensual Red Riding Hood number. “She’s enjoying herself up there.”
“I have fun, okay? Maybe not up there, but I have plenty of fun.”
“Okay, so when?”
“Tsssk,” Sapphire sneered, then thought back. She couldn’t say “Capturing killers.” And she couldn’t think of anything else. This probably wasn’t normal.
“I’ve gotten pretty good at judging character and you, my dear,” Buddy said, handing her a bottle from the tall beer fridge, “are uptight.”
“Trust me, I’m not.”
“I see you up there and I can tell you care way too much about what everybody else thinks of you.” He tossed the rag over his shoulder. “So let me ask you something? When you’re on your deathbed looking back at your life, what do you want to look back on? A life you lived for someone else? Or a life you lived for you?”
Sapphire froze in the middle of sipping her beer. Buddy struc
k a chord. Maybe several, like G, B, and F.
“Things aren’t always that simple, Buddy.”
“That’s the sad part,” he smiled. His crow’s feet spread like cobwebs around his eyes. “Things are exactly that simple. Not everything is life and death, you know.”
Weeeell…
“You’re up,” he said, nodding to the stage.
Sapphire disrobed and hurried to the red curtains, reminding herself to breathe. Giles came over and handed her a small masquerade mask that went with her black lace costume.
“Sometimes, the mask helps,” he said with an encouraging smile, hiding worry. He walked to the other side and grabbed the curtain rope as she put the mask on. It covered her eyes and part of her nose.
“Just have fun,” she whispered to herself. “You’ve captured eight serial killers. Having fun can’t be that hard.”
Misty smiled as she came off the stage and dabbed perspiration with a towel.
“Good luck.”
“Misty!”
Misty turned, still smiling.
“Promise me you’ll have someone walk you to your car when you leave and make sure nobody follows you.”
Misty’s smile faded for a second, then she waved Sapphire’s words off. “Don’t vorry, I hev strong Russian arm.” She flexed, demonstrating.
“Alright, gentlemen and…lady,” the DJ announced, “Please welcome S-s-s-apphirrre!”
Her techno song started and Giles pulled the curtain.
Despite the mask, the spotlights blinded Sapphire. The crowd clapped, and some whistled, but only because she hadn’t started dancing yet. Once she did, they’d shut up for sure.
The techno blared as Sapphire began her first sequence of moves. Whoever he was, he was out there and she could feel it. He was watching her, judging whether or not she’d be a good kill. Her eyes swept over the room, looking at expressions and facial features.
She tried to keep up with the tempo of the music but ended up doing the wrong moves with the wrong motions at the wrong time.
Her eye caught the cowboy sitting in his throne-like chair, bored. A waitress came by and tried to give him another drink, but he declined it and got up.
