Tea Leafing: A Novel

by Weezie Macdonald

  Birdie paused, “Like what?”

  “Well, Gio was acting weird about Lena’s death and compound that with Nikki’s bragging and what do you come up with?”

  Narrowing her eyes, Birdie faced Sam. “Ya know, you may be on to something.’ Those two ’ave been acting weird for weeks now. But I don’t see how Lena could ’ave been crossways with them. She never did anything to anyone.”

  Sam nodded. “Yup. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”

  “May never know.” Birdie shrugged and turned back to the rack.

  “So you’re just okay with that?” Sam tensed. “Oh well, fuck it! Whatever happened, happened, and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it? I thought you of all people would be interested in finding out the truth about Lena!”

  “Don’t get stroppy with me Sam! I’m the one’s been ’avin your back. I’m the one’s been trying to figure this out with you. Bloody ’ell! Stop jumping all over me!”

  The shopkeeper peered over her half-moon spectacles at the two.

  Lowering her voice, Sam said “Sorry. I just feel like nobody gives a shit about any of this. Nobody cares what happened to her. I mean, what if this happened to you or me? Would it go unnoticed? Would anybody other than our families care? Grace and Mary Jane have their own, ummm, issues. The cops can’t find their own asses with a map and both hands! The club just doesn’t want any bad press! What the hell is wrong with everybody?” Sam could feel her eyes sting. “Damn.” She dug into her bag for a tissue.

  Birdie grabbed Sam and folded her into a firm bear hug. The shampoo Birdie used was the same as Lena’s. The familiar scent brought an onslaught of tears.

  “Shhh. It’ll be right as rain, love.” Birdie whispered to Sam as the older woman figeted, unsure of what to do about the drama playing out next to her g-string display. “I do care, Sam. I just don’t know what to do. Tell me what yeh need from me and I’ll help you. I promise.”

  Sam wiped her eyes, “We just can’t let her down, Birdie. I need help. I can’t do this alone.”

  Fixing Sam with a serious look, Birdie nodded. “I know hen. We’ll figure it out.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The club was in full swing. Sam marveled at how the number of people in a place affected the energy. The more crowded the club became, the more frenzied the activity. It seemed like a natural progression of events. But Sam wondered if this wasn’t an example of Boyle’s Law as much as it was about human nature. Hours passed more quickly between ten and three o’clock when the head count was at it’s highest. The energy buzzed as she slipped through the horde of bodies, looking for her next benefactor.

  A glance at the bouncers on the balcony outside the Skybox told her Fedya was in the club and holding court. She saw Gio slip through the sliding door and hang a right toward the office.

  “Sam.” A bouncer gently took her arm just above the elbow, drawing her near through the tidal flow of gawkers. Leaning in, he put his face close to hers and spoke in a low voice. “We gotta’ VIP in room nineteen. His manager requested you.”

  “Who is it?” Sam’s heart fluttered at the idea of an easy money VIP. Please let it be a dignitary or lottery winner. She prayed.

  Being summoned to a VIP room was luck of the draw if a bouncer or waitress didn’t recommend you. Sam would see guys gather on the balcony, picking girls from their perch above the main floor. They’d see a dancer on their way in, or on stage and send someone to get her.

  The bouncer leaned closer, hoping passers-by wouldn’t catch the name of the flavor of the minute rock star he was whispering into Sam’s ear.

  “No.” She crimpled her face.

  “No? Why Sam? This guy is big money and he requested you.”

  “Who requested me? Him, or his manager?” Sam remained unconvinced about the profitability or prudence of joining Señior Superstar in his room.

  The bouncer paused, “Um, the manager is the one I talked to, but he said he wanted you for a few hours. C’mon Sam.”

  “Pass. Tell him I’m busy.”

  New dancers were easily star-struck. The thought of spending an evening with someone so powerful, so important, so public was thrilling. More seasoned girls avoided celebrity like the plague. Most of them were arrogant. They believed they were entitled to more than just a table dance and didn’t think they had to pay for anything. Just the pleasure of soaking up pure narcissism and fighting off advances for a few hours should be enough to keep any half-nude bimbo happy, right? Stars were a nightmare, and the managers were sleazy fast-talkers. Sam preferred Joe Schmo nice guy to fame any day of the week.

  Athletes, musicians, actors and comedians were all the same. Pro-wrestlers were the exception to the rule. Sam loved the wrestlers. They were a well-mannered and funny group of guys. She would spend hours sitting with them just to laugh, and gladly do it without pay – although they would never let that happen.

  The bouncer sighed and looked down the front of his pressed tuxedo shirt. “Shit.”

  “Sorry, I’d love to help, but I’m not in a masochistic mood tonight.”

  Nodding, the bouncer said, “You’re the third pick to say ‘no.’”

  Sam grinned at him. “You’ve got to find a new girl.” Patting him on an arm that was larger than her thigh, she melted back into the flow.

  It took several minutes for Sam to make her way through the bodies on the main floor and up to the second floor balcony. She knew both bouncers lingering outside the Skybox, and fortunately one of them was a long time favorite.

  “Hey Reggie!” Sam greeted him with a hug.

  “What’s goin’ on girl? Were you sent up here for Fedya?”

  “No. But I was wondering if you might do me a favor?” Sam lowered her chin and looked up at him under the weight of her false eyelashes. “I was wondering if I might have a moment alone with Fedya? I need to talk to him about something.”

  Reggie looked at his watch as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes flicked toward the office door then back to Sam. “I can see. I don’t know if he’ll go for it. Nikki and some other girls are in there but his friends haven’t arrived yet.” He smiled at Sam. “Gimme a sec.”

  Slipping through the sliding doors, he disappeared into the Skybox, leaving Sam and the other bouncer outside on the balcony. Sam imagined the time-ticking music used on game shows in her head while she waited, almost drowning out the rap that bathed the club in bass.

  “So, whaddya’ talking to the boss man about?”

  Sam knew the other bouncer was trying to fill the time rather than pry her for details.

  “Oh nothing really, just wanted to thank him for his support. He’s been really cool to us, especially since Lena was killed.”

  The bouncer dropped his head in a nod.

  “I just didn’t want to do it in front of Nikki since he asked us to keep it quiet. He doesn’t want it affecting morale, which I think is a smart move.” Sam smiled.

  Reggie reappeared. “He says it’s fine. Just wait here a minute while the girls clear out.

  Nikki and three of her drug buddies stomped out of the room, irritated.

  Brushing past Sam, Nikki muttered “Bitch” under her breath.

  Sam leaned into Reggie, “Do you mind keeping Gio out while I’m in there? I really want this to be private.”

  Reggie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “I’ll do my best.”

  With that, Sam slipped through the doorway and into the low-lit living room of the Skybox.

  “Sam, my daling. To what do I owe the honor?” Fedya rose from his seat and opened his arms, inviting a hug.

  Sam reciprocated the standard southern strip club greeting, and the two settled into the couch together.

  “I’m sorry to chase everyone out, Fedya.” Sam glowed. “I just wanted to talk to you about a concern I have. You said to come to you with anything we need, so here I am.”

  “Yez, of course!” Fedya’s look of caring concern drew Sam in. She thought about the af
fair Nikki and Gio were having behind his back. She couldn’t understand how they could do that. She didn’t understand the point in having affairs at all. Finish one thing before you start another. That was the policy in Sam’s orderly world.

  “I don’t know how to say this, other than just saying it. I’m a little worried because it seems like the police aren’t having much luck investigating Lena’s death. You are a powerful and respected man in the community.” Sam looked at her hands as if she might draw strength from them. “Do you think there is any way you might be able to encourage them? I mean to make sure they’re doing everything possible?”

  “I don’t understand, Sam. Why you think politzei are doing no searching?”

  Sam looked into the gray-blue of Fedya’s eyes. They were the color of a cool mist, and she was momentarily lost. “Um, not nothing. I just haven’t heard anything and I think it’s a little strange that no one has questioned us. Don’t you?”

  Shifting in his seat Fedya said, “Did you do it?”

  Sam blinked at him.

  “Why you need to be questioned if you did not do it?” Fedya smiled, “Sorry, this is not funny. But I am surprize you want to be question.”

  “We may know something we didn’t realize was important, you know? Somebody investigating probably knows more than we do but why wouldn’t they want to talk to us? Anyway, the point isn’t just that I want to be put under a microscope, I just want to know what’s going on.”

  Fedya nodded. “You do right to come to me.”

  “There’s just been some talk around the club that someone here knows more than they are saying.” The minute it was out of her mouth, Sam realized she had said too much.

  Straightening in his seat, Fedya turned towards her, “What do you mean? Who says this? I don’t understand, Sam. Who is saying these things?”

  “I don’t know specifics, Fedya. You know how club gossip goes. It’s just in the ether. You overhear chatter and rumors spread fast.”

  Fedya studied her more carefully.

  “I’m sure it’s just gossip but I didn’t like hearing that. If the cops press harder with the investigation, or at least make their presence known, it may put the talk to rest.”

  “Hmm.” Fedya grunted his approval. “True. I will have chat with the police and you keep ear to ground to see who is spreading this bullsheet.” His eyes were still on her, but his thoughts were churning through scenarios someplace else. “Thank you. I want no criminal element here. Is bad for business and I won’t tolerate it. I run a clean place.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

  “I’ll be on my way.” Smiling, Sam stood and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her dress. “Thanks for listening Fedya. It feels good to know you are on our side. You’re the best.” Sam leaned down and squeezed his neck, giving him a peck on the cheek.

  He chuckled and patted her back. “Don’t mention it. You deserve nothing less. Thank you for coming to me. Is taken care of. No worry.”

  Sam slipped through the door and onto the balcony feeling recharged. Fedya’s political power and social connections opened doors. He was firmly on board and she felt lighter as she pranced along the balcony railing, glaring at Nikki as she went.

  Sam scurried past VIP nineteen, hoping to avoid the celebrity and his manager on her way to the main stairs.

  “Saaamm!” Pietra’s shrill cry cut the air like a laser through steel.

  Frozen, Sam’s eyes searched, trying to get a fix on Pietra’s location.

  “Sam, ovah here!”

  Turning around, Sam saw Pietra a few steps behind her. She was planted at the railing just outside VIP 21. Too close to room nineteen for Sam’s taste.

  “Pietra! Come here and let me take a look at you, you gorgeous thing!” Sam sang, feeling the beads of sweat squeeze through her pores.

  Strutting toward her, Pietra planted her hands on her hips. She looked like an aged cheerleader readying herself for a performance. Sam pictured Pietra yelling OKAY and launching into a rhythmic clap with gold bangles jangling.

  “What are you doin’ up here, Sam? Do you have a room?” Pietra looked pleased with herself.

  “No, I was just chatting with Fedya and it’s back to work for me.”

  “You know who’s in nineteen? Oh, of course not. I’m sure he’s trying to keep a low profile and only the best girls are in the know.” Pietra smirked. “Well, it’s that musician who’s been at the top of the charts for the last month! You didn’t hear that from me though.”

  Sam dug her nails into her palms, trying not to give into the urge to tell Pietra that she’d turned down the invitation. Struggles with her own ego were the hardest battles.

  “Oh, really?” Sam took Pietra by the shoulders and gently turned her so their positions were swapped, directing Pietra’s line of sight toward the VIP room, and Sam’s back to it. “Let’s swap then, and you can tell me if he comes out.”

  Pleased with this plan, Pietra fluffed her hair and mashed her lips together. “So what did Fedya want?”

  “Oh, nothing. We were just talking about Lena a little. Nothing big, just chit chat.” Sam hoped she wasn’t divulging too much.

  “Is that the girl who got herself killed?” Pietra had the tact of a platypus.

  Tic. Sam felt her face flush. Tic. “Um, I wouldn’t say she got herself killed, but yes, she was murdered, if that’s what you are asking.”

  “Right. Right. Whatever. I’ll nevah forget the weekend that happened! Oh Gawd it was awful!” Pietra slid effortlessly into her victim role.

  “What? I didn’t realize you knew Lena.” Sam was shocked.

  “No! Gawd NO! I didn’t know her. I don’t usually associate myself with you girls, Sam! You know that!” She paused as if collecting herself as Sam’s nails went deeper into her palms. Tic. “No, it was horrible because that weekend I was with Gio. My poor boy.”

  “What? I don’t get what you mean. I thought Gio was off that weekend.” Sam thought about Gio’s disappearance that Friday. He hadn’t reappeared until the following Tuesday with no explanation. If he was taking a long weekend for a vacation, everybody knew about it. He was a bit of a bragger. The absence had raised suspicions for Sam.

  “Off? No Sam, he wasn’t off anywhere. Especially the toilet! I nursed him that whole weekend! It was so horrible. Between the vomiting and the diarrhea we didn’t leave the bathroom!”

  “We?” Sam cringed.

  “I couldn’t leave my baby alone, Sam! What kind of a mutha’ do you think I am?”

  Sam thought for a moment. She was standing on the balcony of a strip club with the night manager’s mother who was star-stalking a celebrity. She thought it best not to answer the question.

  “So he was sick?” Sam blinked away the visual.

  “As a dawg. Running at both ends and crying like a baby. My poor little man.”

  “MA!” Gio had wandered up behind Pietra and apparently overheard her reporting. “You aren’t suppose to be up here!” He barked.

  “Oh stop, dawl. You know I’m just trying to get a peek at you-know-who.”

  Gio looked like he was ready to explode. It was hard for her to take the threatening look seriously since she had a fresh visual of him anchored to the toilet, crying for his mommy. Sam thought again about the random way information floated through the club. Gio had obviously kept his stomach flu a secret. One more suspect down. That still left Nikki. Sam glanced back toward the door leading to the Skybox and wondered if that little twit really was responsible for Lena’s death.

  Turning back to the DiFranchesco family reunion, she saw Gio’s face tense, focusing on something just over her shoulder.

  “Hey Jordan! Didn’t you request Sam? I coulda’ sworn I heard it over the walkie-talkie.” Gio gave Sam a malevolent stare. “Here she is. All tarted up and ready to dance.”

  Sam returned Gio’s vitriol with a smile. “I have a customer downstairs I have to get back to.”

  “And he’ll understand. Go with Jordan.” Gio wasn�
�t questioning. Apparently Sam’s punishment for disobedience was to suffer the fools in VIP 19.

  “Fine.” Sam clenched her teeth and turned to Jordan. Pietra looked wild with a mixture of excitement and jealousy.

  The night unfolded exactly as Sam expected. A musician as high on himself as he was on Oxy. A manager with a chip on his shoulder. And a struggle for money at the end of the evening. Sam was exhausted in every way, but she felt relieved Fedya was on her side and felt certain her hunt for the killer was nearing fruition.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Why don’t all restaurants have picture menus?” Birdie broadcast from her planet. “I might even go to French restaurants if I could order by number, and I don’t mean bloody un, deux, trois either. I guess pictures of the food might not be so good for an Indian place though. A korma is not a pretty thing to look at!”

  Sam burst out laughing, startling Birdie away from her menu. Snaking her arm around Birdie, Sam squeezed her, breathing in the scent of stale smoke and what remained of her perfume — Poison.

  Tanya arrived with the usual assortment of mugs, waters, and juices.

  “Well idn’t that nice. Smiles! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen that from ya’ll, you sexy things!”

  Tanya looked smashing, her mood more upbeat than usual. She scooted her unfairly small ass into the booth next to Grace. Birdie rooted through her purse for tea bags.

  Grace closed her eyes and breathed in the steam from her sweet, blonde coffee, wrapping her hands around the mug. When her eyes opened again she seemed more relaxed.

  Dropping a teabag into her cup, Birdie dunked it in time with the Muzak and asked Sam, “Learn anything?”

  “No. I can tell you that Fedya is definitely on our side though. Said he didn’t want any criminal elements in his club and that he’d talk to the cops. Nikki was her usual bitchy self. She didn’t start any trouble directly but if looks could kill, I’d be dead. Nothing I couldn’t handle though.”

  “I’d love to see that whore get what’s coming to her.”