by Mia Thompson
A single “Boo” echoed through the crowd just as Sapphire stumbled on a cord Giles had told her a thousand times not to stumble on. She felt like she fell in slow-motion before her ass hit the floor.
The room was still for a moment as she sat on the ground before the laughter broke out.
Giles motioned the DJ to cut the lights. The stage went black and the venue was filled by complaints and moans.
“Jesus Christ,” Giles hissed from the side of the curtain. “Get off the stage, now. You are so bloody sacked.”
Sapphire stayed there, glued to the floor, knowing the minute she got up it was over.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen…and lady,” the DJ said, eyeing Sapphire. “We’re experiencing some technical difficulties. We’ll have it solved in just a moment.”
The crowd grew impatient, some of them heading for the door.
Sapphire knew she had to do something new. Something different. She needed to forget about the killer for a second and focus on her job.
This was a last ditch effort. She had nothing to lose.
“Did you not hear me?” Giles sharply whispered. “You’re sacked. Fired. Get off!”
Sapphire stood up, ignored Giles, and hurried over to the DJ. She placed both her hands on his arm, pleading. “Do you have anything else? Anything older with actual lyrics?”
He frowned. “Older like oh-nine?”
“Older.”
“Oh-seven?”
Sapphire shook her head.
“Wait,” he said with an excited glimmer in his eyes. “I have a remix of the perfect song.”
“Put it on.”
Sapphire took her position in the dark and waited for the spotlight.
* * * * *
Aston walked past half-naked women, various horny men, and up to Capelli who was sitting in a puffy chair with three girls on and around his lap.
The stage lay dark halfway across the room and the DJ had just apologized for some sort of technical difficulty.
“Yo!” Capelli shouted and motioned to the empty chair next to him. “Have a seat. Have a girl.”
One of Capelli’s girls put her arms around Aston’s neck and started dancing.
“I’m here to pick your drunk ass up, not waste time. Let’s go.”
“Right, that,” Capelli said, eyes on the dancing girl. “I may have exaggerated how wasted I was.”
“Say what now?” Aston asked, struggling to peel the girl off his body.
“Come on, Ridder. You look goddamn miserable these days.” He stood and grabbed one of the girls by the hand. “I’m just trying to get you back to your old self.”
When Aston was about to storm off to slash Capelli’s tires, the center spotlight on the stage turned on. In its light, stood a girl in a black mask.
A sultry voice sang out through the speaker and Aston watched as the girl started moving sensually to a remixed Hey Big Spender.
“I’m going to the private room with Candy here.” Capelli tapped him on the shoulder, but Aston barely noticed it. “That’s more like it, Ridder.”
Capelli vanished as the remaining spotlights turned on and the dancer picked up pace with the music. The crowd, who’d been frozen, snapped to life. They started hollering and threw singles at her feet.
Aston was attracted to the girl. This was the first time he’d felt drawn to someone since she-who-would-no-longer-be-named.
He was wrong. Moore was wrong. Mrs. Dubois, who said the very same thing months ago, was wrong. How could Aston be in love with Sapphire Dubois if he felt so drawn to the girl on the stage?
The girl’s hips popped every time the music did, and she let out just a little smile every now and then to let the audience know she was with them.
Halfway through the number, someone tossed her a fedora and put a chair out. The girl put the hat on and climbed on the chair without hesitation. She peeled her gloves slowly, enticing the crowd.
Aston moved across the floor, inching closer to the stage. He looked at her tight stomach, hinting a six-pack. Even in his early days, stripteases had zero effect on Aston, but this was different. It was classy, sensual, and he felt like he could watch this girl forever.
He edged closer. He stood behind a man in a cowboy hat tossing Jacksons on the stage, screaming, “Take it off, baby!”
The beat of the song picked up again and then climaxed. The girl did a spin around the pole then walked to the music up to the front of her stage. The cowboy looked back at Aston and raised his eyebrows in excitement.
At the song’s last beat, the girl tossed off the hat and smiled. Aston knew something wasn’t right. He knew that smile.
“Alright!” the DJ shouted. “Give it up for Miss S-s-sapphire!”
Just before the DJ uttered her name, Sapphire took off her mask and flung it across the room.
Aston’s face fell as his insides turned. The blood boiled so violently in him that it could—no doubt—poach a fucking egg.
Son of a bitch!
The men cheered and Sapphire smiled at them. Her eyes searched the crowd and landed on Aston. Sapphire’s jaw dropped and her eyes went big in disbelief, then bigger in realization.
“How ‘bout a private tonight, Darlin’?” the cowboy urged. He reached his grubby hand toward her body.
Aston’s egg-poaching anger boiled over, spewing water and steam.
Obviously, it wasn’t this cowboy’s fault that Sapphire stripped. He only did what men in strip clubs do, so clearly Aston didn’t punch the man.
Okay, he did.
The cowboy went out like a light and plunged to the floor. It didn’t help; Aston was still livid. Anyone looking at her deserved to die.
The crowd roared at the sight of the brawl, and Sapphire stared at him. Aston did exactly what he no longer had the jurisdiction to do; he grabbed Sapphire by the wrist and pulled her off stage, flashing his badge around the room.
“BHPD! This is a raid!”
The DJ killed the music and stared down at Aston. The other strippers gasped, horrified. Some of the perverts ran out the door in fear. Only a few men remained in their seats, curiosity written all over their faces.
“I’m the owner here!” A British man rushed up to Aston in anger. “Please take your hands of my twelfth-best dancer.”
“Yes, Aston, please take your hands off his twelfth-best dancer,” Sapphire said through her teeth, pissed off.
Not more pissed off than him though. Aston turned her around and slapped the cuffs on her wrists.
“ASTON!” Sapphire shouted. “What the hell do you think you’re—”
“Sapphire!”
“What?!”
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you…”
Chapter 16
Aston slammed the rear door closed and went around to the driver side, getting into the car without a word.
Sapphire squirmed in the back; the cuffs made her shoulder blades pinch together uncomfortably.
Aston pulled out, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet her gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Aston,” Sapphire said, trying not to sound as angry as she felt. This could’ve been the night she’d figure out who the killer was. “That was fun and all, but let’s be real here, you’re not really arresting me.”
Aston kept his gaze fixed ahead, his face unyielding.
“You can’t arrest me. There’s nothing to arrest me for. Stripping isn’t against the law, is it?”
His eyes finally drew to the rearview mirror. Sapphire thought she was angry, but it was nothing compared to what she saw in Aston’s eyes.
“What were you doing there?” he asked in a cold voice as he lit a cigarette.
The second her eyes landed on Aston inside the Golden Mirage, Sapphire started working on the answer to this question.
“I was researching.” It was a partial truth.
Aston’s brows drew together. “You were researching. Researching what?”
Aston laughed in mistrust. “So, you’re writing movies now? What’s it called then?”
Curve ball.
“The stripper and the…naked guy!”
“That’s a stupid ti—” Aston slammed his brakes. The car screeched to a halt an inch from the crotch of a terrified naked guy in the middle of the street.
Damn it! Ginger’s boyfriend had found the trunk’s release catch sooner than she had expected. Most people didn’t know all cars made after ‘02 had them.
After the initial shock, Aston rolled down his window. “Get your dick off my car and get off the street, moron!”
Ginger’s boyfriend cupped his hands over his crotch and scampered to the sidewalk, trying to cover both his naked front and back as he ran past the other non-naked pedestrians.
Sapphire looked at the time on the dashboard and smiled. Ginger was already halfway to Vegas.
“Can’t believe I used to miss this place,” Aston muttered.
“Aston,” Sapphire said again, “I’m really tired, and I’d like to go home now. Just drop me off here and I’ll walk back to my…” She realized she didn’t have her Volkswagen anymore. “House.”
“How does your precious fiancé feel about you doing this?”
“I suppose he feels the same as your girlfriend feels about you going to strip clubs.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” He sounded honest, and Sapphire’s insides gave a standing ovation, wolf whistles and everything. She wished she could tell him the same thing about her and John.
Aston’s phone rang and his shoulders tensed as he scrambled to grab it.
“Ridder,” he answered. “Wilson?”
His shoulders dropped, and Sapphire caught concern in his profile. “Thanks, Wilson. I owe you one.”
He hung up and glanced back at Sapphire. “I’m sorry I arrested you, okay?”
Sapphire’s neck pulled back in surprise. She’d never heard Aston apologize, didn’t think the word sorry was in his vocabulary—excluding the sarcastic kind.
“I’ll drop you off at home, but we have to make a pit stop.”
“Fine, but can you take off the cuffs first?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a teasing smile. “I kind of prefer you locked down. Makes my life less stressful.” He accelerated and took another long drag of his cigarette.
Sapphire leaned back. “You really should quit smoking. Those things will kill you, you know?”
“I’m pretty sure if something will be the death of me, it’s gonna be you.” Aston held her gaze in the rearview mirror a long time before he pulled over and got out.
Sapphire leaned forward and watched Aston walk up to an old homeless guy, who was drunker than her mother on a Tuesday morning. It was pretty impressive; not very many people pulled off being that drunk and alive at the same time.
The old man tried to fight him off. Sapphire could hear a lot of swearing.
After a long match, Aston managed to wrestle the guy into the backseat next to Sapphire.
Aston slammed the door shut and went around to the driver’s side.
The old man stunk of dirt and sweat, and Sapphire had to breathe through her mouth so she wouldn’t throw up.
After a few seconds the drunk turned to her. “So, what are you in for?”
“Stripping. You?”
“Don’t know.” He nodded to Aston. “Ask my son.”
* * * * *
Paul Butler had watched as the cop dragged the new girl out kicking and screaming with her hands cuffed behind her back. It was kind of sexy. The energy between the cop and the girl was contagious and really put him in the mood.
He had to get his hands on Ginger. Not tomorrow or the day after, he wanted her now. And Paul always got what he wanted. Except when it came to his mother.
It looked like the place was closing early tonight because of the crazy cop’s raid. It suited him; he had to be home by 11:30 p.m. Now he wouldn’t have to rush, he could take his time and enjoy himself.
When Paul first saw the badge, he stood there petrified and covered in sweat until he realized the cop wasn’t there for him; he was there for the new girl.
Too bad. She’d improved tonight. She had blossomed before his very eyes. Of course, her attitude would need to change for anything to happen. She was much too nice of a person right now to piqué his interest.
He left the building by the alley exit hoping to run into Ginger before her boyfriend picked her up like he did every night. He would take her right there, pull her into his car, and slice her open. Or if he changed his mind, which could happen, he might drown her in the lake. He’d never drowned anyone before. It would be new and exciting.
He waited, watching Giles, Candy, and a few of the other girls leave the building. Where was she?
Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen her since the beginning of the night.
Misty, the Russian girl, came out the back door wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Her face was stripped of makeup, and she didn’t look nearly as appealing as she did on stage.
At first, she froze, coming across someone in the dark alley. Then she recognized him and smiled in relief.
“Oh, sunulvabeach, you scare me,” she said, patting her hand over her heart. “Walk with me to the garage, there is a killer out, yes?”
“I’ll walk with you,” he said, grateful that it gave him a chance to pump her for information on Ginger. Maybe she’d even give him an address.
Misty smiled and they began their promenade.
“Did you see Sapphire Two tonight? She vas good, yes?”
“Yes, she was good.”
“I am heppy for her. She is good person, yes?”
He didn’t like how the Russian always ended her sentences with a question whether it belonged there or not. It reminded him too much of his mother. She insisted on playing twenty questions before he left the house.
“Where are you going? When will you be home? Are you really wearing that? Would you like a sandwich? Hot pocket then? Why aren’t you answering me? Do you have to slam the door?”
Hearing her voice tumbling in his head made him angry. His need for Ginger grew stronger. When the moment came, he’d knock that bitch’s cocky smirk off her face and pretend it was his mother’s.
Misty smiled and held the elevator door for him. Lucky Misty, she was too nice for him to kill. It wouldn’t be any fun, would it? He couldn’t extinguish a flame that wasn’t already burning, could he?
“I barely saw Ginger all night,” he said as they stepped into the elevator.
“Oooh, she qvit.”
“She qvit?!”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She call Giles and say: I qvit, never coming back.”
He stared at the elevator’s floor numbers as they grew higher. “Maybe you should go see her, make sure she’s okay. Do you know where she lives?”
Misty shook her head and dug for her car keys.
“What about her phone number?” he urged. “Do you have her phone number?”
“Yes, but Giles says phone is now off…” Misty’s eyes narrowed, and she studied him. “Vhy?”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened sluggishly.
“Oh, no, there was just something I wanted to do with her.”
“Okay…” Misty’s voice was drenched in uncertainty. “This is my floor.” She waved and stepped off.
“But I guess you’ll have to do,” Paul said and reached for her hair.
* * * * *
Aston, Sapphire, and the old man, who wasn’t a homeless drunk at all, but Aston’s father, shuffled toward the small single story house.
Sapphire glanced at Aston. This was a new side to him. He guided the old man up the steps, a hint of embarrassment on his face with every little bump along the way.
“You’re just like the cold-hearted whore,” the old man spat. Aston sat him down on a chair inside the con
fined kitchen and took off his dirty jacket. “Ah, fuck me, enough with the fussing!”
It was pretty clear Aston had inherited his vocabulary.
“Pops,” Aston pleaded, “can you promise me you’ll stay here while I drive her home?”
“I won’t promise shit,” the old man muttered. “Pulling me off the street, you goddamned brat.”
“Pops!” Aston snapped. “Watch your fucking language, there’s a lady here.”
A giggle escaped Sapphire and Aston’s dad looked up at her as if he just realized she was there. “I didn’t know you got married, Ashton.”
Sapphire raised her eyebrows and watched Aston do everything to avoid eye contact.
“Ashton?” she asked.
“We’re not married,” Aston corrected, ignoring Sapphire as he sat a glass of water in front of his father. “Listen, you’re not gonna move a muscle until I come back, you hear me?”
“Fuck you.”
“Ashton?” Sapphire prompted again.
“Drop it,” Aston said, turning back to his father. “Get up, pops. You’re coming with us.”
“I’ll stay,” Sapphire said.
“I’ll be here all night. I have to bathe him and make sure he doesn’t run back out.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Thanks.”
Thanks AND sorry in one day? Maybe Aston was running a fever. Sapphire sat down on the chair opposite his father.
“You gonna introduce me to your wife or not?”
Aston sighed, pouring Sapphire a glass of water.
“Pops, Sapphire. Sapphire, Pops.”
“The name’s Joe,” Aston’s father held out a soiled hand . “You’re lovely, nothing like the cold-hearted whore who gave birth to this guy.”
Aston grabbed Joe by the collar and lifted him up. “I’m gonna give him a bath.” He nodded to Sapphire. “There’s nothing in the fridge, and I doubt he paid his cable bill, but help yourself.”
After a screaming match between Aston and Joe, which involved a lot of blaming the cold-hearted whore, Aston joined Sapphire on the porch. His shirt was wet from bathwater and had pasted itself to his stomach. Sapphire tried not to look at his muscles through the shirt. She forced her eyes to her cup instead. Aston frowned, sitting down in the other chair.
