by Mia Thompson
“I’m sorry, Charles.” She heaved her other leg over the ledge and jumped.
Two blocks down, she found a cab and got in. She had two things to figure out.
One: how to capture Paul Butler at the Golden Mirage once she found him.
Two: how to outrun the cab driver, whom she wouldn’t be able to pay, in hospital slippers.
* * * * *
With Misty’s death at the forefront of her mind, Sapphire pushed open the doors to the Golden Mirage like an outlaw with nothing to lose.
Buddy and a couple of the girls stopped to stare at her. It could have been because she walked in with a face that said: don’t mess with me. Or—the more likely reason—because she strolled in wearing a paper gown and slippers. Even Homeless Herbert, the guy whose “look” included dreads and a foil hat, had gawked at her like she was the weirdo.
Sapphire ignored them, sights straight ahead, as she marched to Giles’s office and knocked.
“I said no, Chastity,” Giles yelled, his voice hoarse. “Are you deaf and mute?”
“It’s Sapphire.” She opened the door and the fire in her gut went out.
Giles stared at the computer in front of him with red, puffy eyes. “Have you been in—what do you Americans say?—the slammer?”
“No.”
“Then where the bloody hell were you last night?” he asked, eyes still on the computer.
“Food poisoning.”
“Your last excuse was better.”
“I’m still in my hospital gown.”
Giles looked her up and down. “Well played. Off you go then.”
“But…”
“If you’re here about the two spots, I haven’t decided yet. Between the police and Chastity running in and out asking to be put on the wall, I haven’t had time. At least that’s what I assume she was asking, can’t understand a bloody thing that one says.”
Sapphire studied him. “I didn’t know her as well as you did, but I’ll miss her too.”
Grief entered Giles’s expression. “You know why I kept Misty away from the top spots as long as I could?”
Sapphire shook her head.
“She was a brilliant dancer, and she should have been our star a long time ago, but every girl who made it to the top let it go to her head and became the nastiest bitch. Believe it or not, even Ginger was quite pleasant before I made her a star. Misty was so sweet—I didn’t want her to change.”
Sapphire sat down and it clicked. The death of the girls had nothing to do with their spot on the wall. It had to do with their personalities. Paul Butler did have a favorite type of girl. She had missed it. He liked girls with bad attitudes. Misty didn’t fit the description, but maybe she had been an exception.
“So…I was talking to Paul Butler the other day and was wondering if you’ve seen him around?”
“Ah,” Giles pondered. “Saw him in the early hours before his shift. I don’t know if he’s still around. That man comes and goes as he pleases.”
“Doesn’t he look funny that one with his…” she studied Giles’s face. “Broow…blooond-ish…short…”
Giles stared at her. “Sapphire, I haven’t got time for this. I have a dying club on my hands, so feel free to sod off.”
Sapphire headed to the dressing room and changed into her costume. The girls were quiet, all mourning Misty.
“Does anyone know Paul?” Sapphire’s voice cut through the silence.
Candy frowned, wiping her eyes. “I’ve worked here for three years, and trust me, there’s no one named Paul.” A few of the other girls shook their heads.
It didn’t make sense. Sapphire left the dressing room, confused. Something didn’t add up.
She stepped out into the club, studying the male workers. She was just about to strike up a conversation with a maintenance guy when a hand reached out from the supply closet and yanked her inside, closing the door.
Sapphire scrambled to find the man’s fingers in the darkness, then twisted them until she heard a crack and a scream.
He let go, and Sapphire sent out a kick. His body crashed into the shelf and Sapphire grabbed the hanging light switch.
For a second she was blinded by the immediate burst of light.
“Oh, come on!” Sapphire yelled. She stared at the man struggling to get up from a pile of boxes, paper cups, and cleaning supplies. “Would you just give it up already? I mean jeez.”
The cowboy frowned at her, rolling around in the mess, looking like a beached whale.
Sapphire rolled her eyes and was about to offer him a hand. “Wait, you’re not secretly an employee here whose name is Paul, are you?”
“No. Jim.”
“Didn’t think so,” Sapphire sighed. She pulled him up and saw something on the shelf behind him. Dread washed over her.
“Jim, if I were you, I’d go home.”
“With you?”
“No.”
“Worth a shot.”
The cowboy moved to the door as Sapphire stared at the homemade device.
A bomb.
Chapter 21
Sapphire dripped with sweat as she clutched the microwave containing the bomb. She took her time moving toward the back door.
She was no bomb expert, but the contraption had two sides of different colored liquids and she knew if they mixed, the outcome wouldn’t be pleasant. The microwave wouldn’t help to lessen the explosion, but she couldn’t exactly stroll out of the closet with a bomb in her hands. If Paul Butler saw her, he might blow them up right then and there.
A chemist indeed, Sapphire thought, taking another watchful step.
“Sapphire.” Giles walked up along side of her with a pad in his hands. “I’ve been thinking about this number.”
“Mhmm,” Sapphire said between her teeth. “Little busy here, Giles.”
“You know Aerosmith?”
“Not well, only met them once.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Yes.”
“Well, since you do better with lyrical songs, we’ll play Pink and…why on earth are you carrying my old microwave?”
“Er…working out?”
Giles shook his head. “Just be ready in five and I’ll let the DJ know. Cheers, love.” He smacked her on the ass, launching her forward.
She didn’t breathe again until she realized she wasn’t blown to pieces.
“Giles!” she shouted after him. “I really need to know who Paul Butler is!”
Giles frowned. “Are you having a piss? Or do you truly have some sort of goldfish memory issue along with your left feet?”
“What does that mean?!” He was already gone.
Finally outside, Sapphire placed the bomb in the dumpster, grabbed the metal chains, and locked it. She jogged back inside, heading for the stage.
The DJ rushed past her, bumping into her as he hurried to the backstage entrance. “Sorry, Sapphire Two,” he called over his shoulder.
“No problem…” Sapphire stopped as she realized she didn’t know his name.
The DJ. He matched Maggie Butler’s age description.
Sapphire hurried after him and stopped behind the curtain. He finished up the techno mix for Candy on the stage, smiling a bit to himself as the dancer went through her last moves.
Sapphire spotted Chastity marching urgently toward the bathroom. “Chastity, do you know the DJ’s name?”
Chastity moved her mouth, but nothing came out. Satisfied by her effort, she continued to the bathroom.
“Good talk!” Sapphire yelled, frustrated.
“Please welcome Saaa-pphire!” the DJ shouted into the microphone. Aerosmith’s Pink filled the room along with the intimate crowd’s hollers.
The second her feet stepped onto the stage, Sapphire was hit with a strange feeling. It grew as she danced, scanning the club. Something was off.
The TV on top of the bar was pushed forward, as if something was behind it. The table in the very back had a reserved sign on it and the chairs had been
pulled to the center. No one would reserve that table.
There were more bombs.
She had no idea how many, but she knew they were all over the place.
Sapphire turned around to face the DJ. There was no later. She needed to take him down right now. But what she saw confused her. The DJ was picking the dirt out of his fingernails. His face was not that of someone ecstatic to blow up a club.
Sapphire spun back to face the crowd. Her eyes landed on a man standing at the other end of the room. He was looking around with an odd exuberance as he grabbed his jacket. He was leaving, but his shift had just started.
She understood everything. The girls, just like Sapphire, knew Paul Butler by another name. Giles had nicknamed Paul, like he did the girls. It was the perfect name for a person whose unofficial job description is to be the insightful pal. Buddy.
The bartender was Paul Butler.
Sapphire wanted to shout out “BOMB!”, but she didn’t know if Paul had control over the devices. Her eyes drew to the fire alarm.
“Oh my God!” she shouted, pointing out over the club at an unspecific area. “Fire!”
The customers’ heads turned and Sapphire leapt and smashed her hand onto the fire alarm. A sea of sprinklers hissed in harmony, showering the crowd with water. The alarm blared and people got up.
Butler’s face turned to dismay as he watched the girls and customers disappear one by one. His eyes locked on Sapphire; she was the only one stationary.
They stared at each other through the rain, and he seemed to realize she knew something.
Sapphire hopped off the stage and jumped from table to table, crushing left-behind beer bottles and vodka glasses as she made her way to the bar.
Paul scrambled in his pocket. He pulled out a small remote as he headed for the door.
Sapphire pushed off the last table and threw herself over the bar, pulling him down with her. They tumbled to the ground, and the remote flew out of Paul’s hand. It landed by the tall beer fridge.
Sapphire crawled and snagged the remote. Butler grabbed at her legs. She raised her hand and threw the remote over the bar. It hit the floor on the other side with a soft crack.
Sapphire kicked away from him and grabbed the door to the beer fridge, slamming it into his head.
Paul roared, covering his skull. “Had I known you were this much of a bitch, I would have killed you before.”
Sapphire grabbed the lemon knife off the cutting board and held it to him. Paul looked from her to the knife.
“Speaking of which, why Misty?” Sapphire asked, taking a sweep of the empty room. Nobody had seen her take him down. She could easily tie him up and leave him for the police to find. “She didn’t fit with the others.”
“She was onto me,” he said, eye still on the knife. “She wasn’t as fun as the others, but I still enjoyed it.” He let out a satisfied smile.
Sapphire nodded at him. “Yeah, remember to keep smiling like that when you’re in jail; it’ll probably land you a boyfriend or two.”
Paul’s smile vanished. “I’d rather die than go to jail!”
“If you don’t want to go to jail, don’t kill. I don’t know why that’s so hard for you people to understand.”
“Every single one of those bitches deserved what they got. I’d kill them again if I could!”
“Oh Paul,” Sapphire sighed, shaking her head. “Paul, Paul, Pa—”
Somebody pushed Sapphire, and she banged into the counter, dropping the knife. She turned swiftly.
It was Chastity; she was climbing on top of Butler.
“Chastity, he’s dangerous!”
“Could I have picked a worse time to take a dump?” Chastity said. Her shoulders were poised and her otherwise meek demeanor was nowhere to be found. Her eyes shifted to someone behind Sapphire.
“Ridder?” Chastity said.
“Ridder?” Sapphire turned to see Aston in the door.
“Wilson?” Aston replied.
“Chastity,” Sapphire corrected.
“Wilson,” Chastity confirmed.
“Sapphire,” Sapphire said, but that didn’t make sense, and they both looked at her.
“And thanks to the confession I just heard,” Chastity said, pulling Paul up, “you are under arrest by the LAPD for the murders of some of downtown’s finest strippers.”
“You’re a cop?” Sapphire asked, although pretty obvious.
“Damnit!” came from the door.
Sapphire turned to see Homeless Herbert.
He took off his foil hat and wig and stomped them to the ground. “I always miss the good part.”
“Call for backup, Jones,” Chastity ordered him. “We got him.”
Sapphire blinked at Chastity/Wilson, Buddy/Butler, and Homeless Herbert/Jones right before he left. All the name changes were confusing.
“Move, girl!” Chastity barked. Sapphire jumped out of their way. “Ridder, you got any cuffs? These damn ho-dresses leave no room to hide ‘em.”
“In my car,” Aston said and turned to Sapphire. “You. Don’t move a muscle.”
Sapphire stared after them as they moved toward the door with Paul in custody. She felt like a star who’d been upstaged.
It made sense. The LAPD had gone undercover to lure him out instead of using mass enforcement, which would’ve scared him off. The reason Chastity begged Giles to be on the wall was the same as Sapphire’s—to become the next target.
Though it had worked out for the best and she was grateful she hadn’t exposed herself to the cops, Sapphire felt deflated. Then again, she always felt that inexplicable disappointed at the end of a case.
“I’ll be damned, Wilson,” Aston said as they headed for the door. “They sent you for an undercover strip job? You must’ve really pissed off Chief Wendell.”
“Tell me about it,” she sneered. “He told me to make sure to keep my mouth shut so I’d pass for a lady. Can you believe that shit, Ridder?”
“Well…”
Paul screamed out, and his body plummeted toward the floor. The cop’s grip was broken by the unexpected weight, and his hands slipped out. Paul army crawled on the floor then reached his hand out and slammed it down on the remote.
Chastity was about to jump on top of him when the room lit up in blinking red lights. The two cops knew exactly what was happening, and Chastity headed for the door, abandoning Butler on the ground.
Aston reached out for Sapphire, his body shifting toward her as he yelled out. Before he could take a full step in Sapphire’s direction, his former partner’s body plowed protectively into him, pushing him toward the door.
Paul Butler laughed in desperation, and the Golden Mirage exploded in a ball of fire.
* * * * *
The force of the explosion sent Aston and Wilson flying out the door and across the street.
Aston could tell by their faces that the people outside the Golden Mirage were screaming, but all he could hear was loud ringing. He tried to stand but had no control of his body, so he lay like a vegetable on the pavement, staring at the Golden Mirage.
He knew this would happen. Perhaps not this, but something along these lines. The moment Barry woke him up at the hospital and told him Sapphire had jumped out the window, Aston knew she was about to put herself in a bad situation. She just couldn’t help it.
Aston tried to focus his strength on regaining power of his arm. His fingers twitched toward the fire, trying to reach for her.
The world around him turned black, and the last thing he took in was the crumbling roof of the burning building, the woman he loved still inside.
Chapter 22
In the middle of the meadow sat a shabby door with cracks and scratches. It was held by nothing—suspended in air. Sapphire stared at the knob. She knew she was supposed to open it, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Aston appeared at her side and joined her in the stare down.
“What’s behind it?” Sapphire asked, afraid.
“The truth,” he said, grabbing her hand. He twisted the handle and the door opened, a black mouth waiting to swallow them.
The door slammed shut behind them and locked. Sapphire pulled back at the sight of the crimson motel room, but Aston held a firm grip on her hand.
Inside, her mother was dancing with her father. Like ghosts, they floated across the floor. Sapphire saw her young self in the corner, playing with the red toy.
“I’ve already been here. I’ve seen this. Can we go?” She pulled on Aston.
“Sometimes, we have to look twice to see what we missed the first time.”
She forced herself to look again.
“That’s not my mother.” Sapphire had never seen this woman before. “Is that what I’m supposed to see? He was cheating on my mom, dancing with someone else?”
Aston slid over to her other side. “I don’t think they’re dancing.”
Sapphire frowned and looked back at them. Sapphire’s father’s hands were clasped around the woman’s neck. There was fear in her eyes. Her body was limp, paralyzed.
“He’s killing her,” Sapphire gasped. “We have to do something!”
“You can’t change it.”
The room morphed. Instead of the bizarre, crimson-themed room, it turned into a regular motel room. The bed and the walls were white, and the carpet, beige. Every item in the room was spattered with blood. The woman’s white dress was soaking in it, and her stomach was riddled by knife wounds.
When he was finished with her, Sapphire’s father threw the woman’s body on the bed. A purple mark lined her neck and her dead eyes aimed at Sapphire and Aston.
“My father killed someone.”
“Come on, Sapphire.” Aston looked at her as if she should know better. “Are these the actions of a man who’s only killed once?” He nodded to the bed. “Or the actions of a man who kills often?”
“He’s a serial killer.” Sapphire whispered, warm tears burning her eyes.
Her father’s head cocked to the side.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” He shouted, his voice filled with panic. He was looking at young Sapphire. “I told you to always stay in your room.”
