Black Light: Exposed (Black Light Series Book 2)

by Jennifer Bene

  “I know. I also added an ice cube so it wouldn’t be too hot.” He smiled and took a drink from his steaming cup of black tar.

  “This is the benefit of knowing you, Gilligan. Sometimes I forget why I keep talking to you, and then you bring me caffeinated magic.”

  “First of all, I’m not even sure there’s still caffeine in that concoction, and second, coffee isn’t coffee unless it’s hot, but –”

  “There’s a difference between boiling and drinkable.”

  “But you obviously need coffee, and since that lukewarm mess is all you’ll drink that’s what I brought you.” Jamar leaned on the corner of her desk, his brown eyes catching hers. “No jokes, are you okay, Maddie?”

  Plastering a smile across her face, she nodded. “Yeah, absolutely. I’ve just been working on some stuff at night, but I promise I’m going to take a break and get some sleep.”

  For a night or two anyway.

  “You sure? If you need help with something, I can -”

  “Nope! Nina would have my head if I bugged you after hours. I’m pretty sure she’s already annoyed enough that I like your posts on Facebook.”

  Jamar didn’t respond to that, which was all the confirmation she needed that his wife wasn’t happy at how friendly they were. He took a long drink of his coffee and stood up. “Okay, well, the offer stands. I hope you know that.”

  “Right, I do.” Keeping the forced smile, she met his eyes for a moment before glancing back at her screen as if she could really read it. “Time to work! Bye, Gilligan!”

  “Drink your coffee, Ginger,” he replied as he walked the few steps back to his desk, and Maddie blinked until the blurs on the screen turned into words.

  Three hours, and four coffee refills later, and she was halfway through her inbox for the day. It still amazed her that the people who did the marketing at some of these small businesses couldn’t do simple proofreading of their ads before paying money to have them printed. Without her checking the advertisement for Caroline’s Fabrics & More they would have been offering 50% off ‘patented’ prints instead of ‘patterned’ prints.

  With a grin, and a slightly less fuzzy head, she sent a screen shot of the error-filled ad to Jamar, but just as she clicked send Brenda appeared on the other side of her monitor. “Madeline, I need to talk to you, do you have a minute?”

  “Sure.” There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as Brenda sat down on the short cabinet beside Maddie’s desk.

  “Do you remember the Washington Cleaners ad from yesterday?” Shit. She was using her corrective tone, the one that already confirmed she’d made some terrible mistake. What was that ad?

  Washington Cleaners, Washington Cleaners, Washington Cleaners…

  “Of course!” Maddie lied through her teeth. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me?” Brenda pulled a Daily Saver D.C. from under her arm and laid it out beside her mouse, flipping to the second page where a red circle had been drawn around an ad for Washington… Clearers.

  Fuck.

  And below that it said they were the best in shirts, pants, and dreses. That’s right, dresses with one ‘s’.

  Double fuck.

  “This was in your queue yesterday, right? And you approved it?” Brenda’s tone was edging from corrective to outright irritated, and Maddie realized that five cups of coffee on an empty stomach was about to be a recipe for throwing up in her trash can in front of her boss.

  “I don’t know how I missed that, Brenda. I am –”

  “Well, you did, and that’s the fourth error in the last three weeks. I don’t know what’s going on with you, Madeline, but you need to leave whatever it is at the door. We don’t have space for personal issues here at the Daily Saver, we have a reputation to uphold.” With a steely gaze from behind her glasses, Brenda snatched up the copy of the paper as heat flushed into Maddie’s cheeks. “Do you need to take a day off? Or two? You didn’t take much for Christmas.”

  Swallowing in an effort to calm her churning stomach, and to cool the crimson blush that she knew was turning her pale skin into an embarrassing neon sign, Maddie spoke softly so that the audience in the cubicles around her wouldn’t hear, “I’m fine, Brenda. It won’t happen again.”

  “If it does it will be more than a talk, Madeline.” The use of her full name for the third time made her teeth grind.

  “I understand.”

  “Good. I really expect more of you than this.” With that final jab, Brenda walked back towards her office at the end of the room, and Maddie bowed her head to avoid the bevy of eyes that suddenly focused on her from all over the floor.

  So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’re going to lose the only job you have paying the bills trying to become some hotshot investigative journalist, won’t that make mom and dad proud?

  Opening the next item in her queue, Maddie could feel the burn in her cheeks slowly fading, but the embarrassment was like a branding iron over her chest. She had always been the A student, the smart girl, the over-achiever – and this was just not her.

  As she threw herself into work, going over and over the ads and brief articles to ensure they were perfect, she ignored the dings of her email until a wad of paper hit the side of her desk and bounced off. Jamar was staring at her, pointing at his computer with a look of exasperation. With a sigh she flipped back to her email and saw a series of emails from him.

  The first was a badly edited picture of a stack of fabric with ® and ™ symbols copy-and-pasted all over it. The second was a picture of one of the dragons from Game of Thrones breathing fire with the name ‘Brenda’ written on it in bright green text, and the last was a screen shot of an order for two subs from their favorite local sub shop, along with two large sides of fries. She couldn’t help the smile that crept over her lips as she glanced up at him, and then Jamar pointed at Brenda’s office and mimed shooting himself in the head.

  Maddie grinned at him, and he shrugged and turned around, already brushing off the incident like it wasn’t a problem. With a heavy sigh, she went back to work, committed to catching up and making no more mistakes – but then her phone lit up with a Google alert for Runway appearing in the news again, and she had to fight the urge to read it. Her hand hovered over the screen for a moment, her thumb itching to scan into the little device, but then she flipped her phone face down.

  After work.

  You can check it after work, and then you’ll eat a sensible dinner, and go the fuck to bed. Runway and its secret door will be there Sunday night.

  Chapter Three

  Saturday Night

  Thirteen hours of sleep, four trips up and down the elevator for laundry, and one grocery trip later – Maddie was finally nestled in front of her laptop again. She definitely felt more human than she had, and as she glanced at the clock it was tempting to head into the city. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet, and that meant there would still be plenty to find at Runway if she could make it past the mop’s security detail. Maybe just a few hours…

  No.

  You can go tomorrow night, when you get your dresses back from the dry cleaner.

  Rolling her eyes at her own brain’s responsible suggestion, she moved to the open Word document on her computer. It held her list of names, with notes next to each showing what they did in the city, and whether she had been able to find them inside. The badly lit pictures she had been able to take with her phone were below it. Some of those were marked because she’d yet to find out their names, but anyone arriving with a car service had to be of some interest.

  “What are you hiding?” Maddie whispered under her breath as she opened a new internet window and searched Jaxson Davidson, the owner of the damn club, for the hundredth time. As usual, the first two pages of results were about the infamous display he’d put on at his father’s campaign dinner.

  Talk about a major political faux pas by a ménage-a-trois.

  Searching Chase Cartwright brought up articles about his model
ing in addition to the political shit, but she was still full of questions. What were they doing starting a nightclub anyway? And why would any of the D.C. elite get within a hundred feet of Jaxson Davidson after the stunt he’d pulled? He should have been toxic waste after destroying Senator Gregory Davidson’s attempt at the presidency, and yet Runway wasn’t just doing well, it was still the talk of the town over a month after opening.

  Tapping a pen on a notepad beside her she started to write by hand in an effort to clear out the muddled mess inside her head. Question one… what would male models want to keep secret at a club?

  Underground clothing line? A sweatshop?

  With a groan she scratched through sweatshop. It would be stupid to invite a bunch of fancy dressed people into a sweatshop, but the secret clothing line wasn’t beyond possibility – albeit relatively uninteresting.

  Starting their own modeling agency? Possible, but weird to run it connected to Runway. Unless that was the reason they’d chosen the name and designed the stage that way… she starred that option and then tried to shift gears.

  New angle.

  Why were the people who went through that secret door dressed so nice? Maddie leaned back in her chair and took a long drink of her wine, a splurge purchase she’d made because she knew she needed to relax – even though all she was doing was obsessing while she drank. What was hiding behind the trick mop? Was it just a special VIP area? What would make it better than the separate VIP area already on the floor of Runway?

  She scratched a series of question marks next to her terrible sketch of the mop, and began to tap her pen again. Thump. Thump. Thump. Could Jaxson be using his father’s political connections somehow? Allowing a hidden place for people to broker deals out of sight of the police, reporters, and others?

  It was another possibility, especially because while there were a lot of things you couldn’t count on in the nation’s capitol, there was always at least one of three things at play when it came to Washington, D.C.: power, money, or sex.

  So, what was in play at Runway? That was the new question burning a hole in her mind as she tried to make herself sleep.

  Sunday Night

  Maddie had been at the club for over an hour, but every time she wandered towards the rear hallway the security guard at the backstage curtain was standing with his arms crossed like a formidable wall.

  Damn him.

  Curving her path as if she’d meant to, she headed into the bathroom and dropped onto the little love seat in the lounge area, staring at the door that separated her from her mop of destiny. Here she was well-rested, in her sexiest little black dress, her nicest heels, with her hair and make-up done… and it looked like tonight was going to be another bust.

  No way she had enough money in all of her accounts combined to bribe the asshole into letting her past.

  As she glared through the wall at her nemesis, a group of loud-mouthed Georgetown co-eds burst into the bathroom from the dance floor entrance, letting in the pounding beat of the DJ for a moment before it was muffled again as the door closed.

  Then they all went into stalls, still talking to each other about nonsense.

  “Can you believe Amanda showed up?”

  “And with Riley? I mean, fuck off, right?”

  “You know she only came with Riley because she was hoping to piss off Clarissa.”

  “Well, I already texted Clarissa and she said she doesn’t give a shit. Riley cheated on her, and she’s already going out with Mark on Tuesday.”

  “Why didn’t she come out tonight? It would have been perfect for her to snag some hottie and dance with him right in front of fake-ass Amanda.”

  Maddie groaned and pulled out her phone to check the time. Barely eleven, which meant if she couldn’t get back to the mop and into that secret door she’d be listening to idiots like this all night. Laughter echoed off the tile as toilets flushed and several of the girls gathered together at the mirror to wash their hands and check their make-up.

  “Natalie! Are you coming or not?”

  “One second!”

  “Okay, we’ll be on the dance floor. Meet us!” The larger group of girls left and then the last girl wandered out of her stall to wash her hands. Maddie was deep in thought as she heard the clicking of heels coming towards her, and that was when she saw the one called Natalie tugging at the hot pink crop-top as she stared at herself in one of the floor-length mirrors in the sitting area. She looked like every other college girl that was trying too hard and would probably end up puking in one of these stalls before the end of the night after one too many shots.

  And that gave Maddie an idea.

  “Hey, Natalie, right?”

  Her voice made the girl jump, and she looked at Maddie a little nervously. “Uh, yeah… why?”

  “I wanted to know if you could do me a favor?”

  “Like what?” The girl looked even more freaked out as Maddie dug in her tiny purse for the twenty bucks she had tucked inside.

  “It’s not a big deal, I just need you to distract someone for me.” She held up the twenty and the girl looked slightly less nervous.

  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  A few minutes later she had her arm around Natalie’s shoulders as they stepped into the back hallway. The girl suddenly lurched to the side and Maddie almost fell trying to hold onto her.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Natalie moaned in fake agony, bending at the waist to brace one hand on the wall.

  “You’ll be okay! We just need to get you some water!” Maddie raised her voice, glancing through her hair to see if the security guy had budged.

  No such luck. Come on Natalie, play it up.

  “No, I’m totally going to throw up.” Some Oscar-worthy gagging noises came from the girl, and the security guy took a few steps forward.

  Just a little more. “Oh shit! No, just stand up. You’ll feel better if you stand up!” Pretending to try and lean the girl back up only brought an even more dramatic round of fake moaning and pre-vomit noises.

  “HEY!” Security guy finally walked towards them. “Go back in the bathroom, do not throw up back here!”

  “I can’t move, I’ll be sick if I move!” Natalie was playing her part beyond perfection, probably based on experience, while Maddie played the panicked friend.

  “Shit, shit, I’ll get you some water, and I’ll grab Tiffany! Just wait!” Stepping away from Natalie, the girl started to slide to her knees, the fake retching increasing in volume. Security guy tried to grab her arm and lift her as Maddie took a few steps back, but Natalie just shouted that she was going to be sick.

  “I’ve got a code four in the back hall by the women’s room.” He was speaking into something on his shirt, and he glanced over at her as she moved towards the doorway back to Runway’s dance floor, but as soon as he turned to face Natalie’s groaning form again she ran and darted under the curtain. With her heart pounding in her ears, Maddie steadied the fabric and then stepped away so he wouldn’t see her heels under the edge.

  She could still hear the soap opera style acting on the other side of the curtain, but the rush in her own veins was more powerful. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the backstage space, but then she saw the door.

  Thank you, Natalie.

  Maddie couldn’t stifle her smile as she eased it open, grateful it didn’t make a sound, and she slipped inside. The bright, sterile light of the closet felt weird after the dimness of the club, but she saw the mop exactly where it had been before. Wrapping her hand around it she pulled the mop towards her, just like the security guy had, and there was a distinct click of some kind of mechanism underneath it. Pushing it forward she felt another click, and with a slight movement to the left she heard the snap of a lock as the edges of a door were revealed.

  Bathed in pale purple light.

  She stepped inside fast, pushing the door closed behind her just in case. It was a stairwell, brightly lit in that pale purple
glow that emanated from recessed lighting in the ceiling, leading all the way down. Swallowing, Maddie walked down carefully, trying to get a peek of what awaited, but there was only another door.

  “This is it,” she whispered to herself, grabbing the door handle. Preparing herself for whatever lay beyond, she pushed it open and almost tripped as she stumbled into a large room. There were small lockers lining one wall from floor to ceiling, and another heavily muscled security guy sitting behind a tall desk.

  Oh. Fuck.

  Smiling with that I’m-supposed-to-be-here confidence, Maddie walked forward. The guy glanced up at her and arched an eyebrow. “Member or guest?”

  “Guest,” she answered smoothly, but inside new questions were firing to life.

  “Of?”

  “Hmm?” She asked as she fiddled with her purse to pull out her phone, trying to buy time.

  “Whose guest are you?”

  Shit, shit, shit. Her eyes roamed over the room, trying to memorize every inch of it, but there wasn’t anything exciting to see. There was a glass window in the wall, just beyond some more lockers, that resembled a ticket window for a movie theater, and then a door. On the other wall there was yet another door tucked by some lockers, and the whole room seemed to glow with the same pale purple light of the stairwell. There was nothing helpful except for a sign that said all forms of electronics had to be left in assigned lockers, and while interesting, it did nothing to help her now. How the fuck was she supposed to get past this guy?

  “Miss?”

  The twin cameras aimed at her from the corners of the ceiling only made her heart pound harder as she struggled to think of an answer. There was so much security, whatever they were hiding underneath Runway had to be something huge.

  This was it, the story she needed.

  She just had to get inside, had to come up with something that would make the guy let her through whichever door led to the underbelly of the club. He was getting agitated, her brain was whirling with possibilities, and then the stupidest possible response fell out of her mouth, “Jaxson.”