by LD Marr
I teased my hair only enough to fit in, applied dark makeup, and dressed all in tight black.
When I opened my door to leave, I heard the sound of the television. Frank and Rita were sitting together on the couch. I walked past them on my way to the apartment’s foyer, and they both turned to look at me.
“Myrna!” Frank exclaimed.
“Whatever,” said Rita.
Frank got up and met me while I was putting on my coat next to the front door.
“Myrna. You don’t have to do this,” he said. “It’s just...it’s just...”
“It’s just crazy?” I asked. “Is that what you were going to say?”
“No, Myrna. Maybe. I don’t know,” Frank admitted. “But it could be dangerous. I know that.”
“I know that too, Frank,” I said. “But that’s OK. I have to go anyway. I know you don’t understand, but thank you for worrying about me.”
“Oh! Isn’t that sweet!” Rita said from the couch.
“Frank, If I don’t come back, I want you to know that I care about you. And you too, Rita,” I said.
“If you don’t come back!” Frank shouted.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll be back,” I said.
“Yeah, sooner than you think when they don’t let you in for free,” said Rita.
“Bye Frank and Rita,” I said. “Frank will you please lock all the locks behind me?” I asked.
He just stared at me without answering, but I knew he’d do it. Then I unlocked the door’s five locks and left.
Chapter 14
About an hour later, I stood in front of the door to the Tenderloin Club. My coat was open, so the bouncer looking through the window could see my slim figure in tight, stylish black.
I remembered how I’d felt in the past standing at this door. So cool, hip, so hot! But now I felt only embarrassed and dehumanized—as if I were a piece of meat being inspected.
The door opened just enough for me to squeeze in, and I entered a small hallway. I stood under the arch that was the club’s weapons detector for less than a minute. Then the bouncer buzzed open the club’s inner door, and I went in.
My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the familiar crowded and noisy one-room warehouse. And I breathed in the same smoky air, filled with tobacco, marijuana, and other less legal intoxicants.
Near the entrance, a heavily made up older woman stood in a split doorway with the top half opened. I took off my coat and handed it to her.
I recognized Angla, but I didn’t say anything. I hoped the coat checker wouldn’t remember me. Angla’s small green eyes peered at me. Her lips pursed in an unreadable expression, but she didn’t say anything either.
She handed me a coat stub and moved away from the door. I put the stub in a small pocket in my skin-tight stretch pants and moved on.
Following my plan, I started toward the nearest wall of the vast open but crowded space. I moved along the edge of the wall, putting some distance between myself and the coat room. Then I stopped and took up a position leaning against the wall in an empty spot between two other thin leaners.
Both male, young, and hidden under dark hoods, they didn’t look toward me, and I didn’t look at them. They weren’t the man I was looking for.
I bent one leg to rest a spike-heeled shoe against the wall and looked straight ahead.
Toward the center of the club, dancers moved sinuously in and out of the murky black-lit smoky air. Some very young and showing skin, some older.
Closer to me on the outer edge of the vast room, other club goers walked past in groups, pairs, and singles. Only a few looked over to check out me and the other wall lurkers. I watched and waited for about ten minutes. Then I moved on.
Patiently, I worked my way around the edges of the club. In addition to Angla, I’d seen a few more people I’d known in the past—some teenagers and some older people who came here to meet teens.
I moved on whenever I spotted a familiar face, hoping they didn’t recognize mine. If they did, no one approached me or spoke to me.
After a few hours, I still hadn’t seen the man I was looking for.
Is he even here tonight? I wondered.
Then from my latest spot on the wall, I saw someone I recognized—a familiar face from my present.
My client Stella was dancing about ten feet ahead of me with another young girl and a thin teen boy. I tipped my face down, so my hair covered it, and I edged away sideways on the wall.
Not watching where I was going, I bumped into another wall leaner.
“Sorry,” I said, turning toward the dark-haired young man dressed in black pants and a plain white t-shirt.
I recognized my client Laz and gasped.
“Myrna?” he asked. “Is that you? What are you doing in here? Getting back to partying?”
Laz spoke in a loud voice, almost a yell, to be heard over the club’s pounding music.
I unfroze and answered him.
“No. I’m not here for that,” I answered.
I had to yell, but I knew no one standing even a few feet away could hear me.
Laz chuckled.
“No. It’s not that,” I tried to explain. “I’m here looking for a man.”
Laz closed the distance between us and stood in front of me, inches away.
“Well, it looks like you found one,” he said in a flirty but nervous voice.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, aware of his closeness and oddly confused by it.
But my purpose still drove me. And now that Laz was so close, I could speak without yelling.
“I’m looking for the man who was seen with my client Chloe before she disappeared. They showed the video of him on TV. Did you see that? I saw that man come out of the subway, and I tracked him here last night. He left the club with another boy and took him back into the subway,” I said.
Laz had turned his head sideways, so he could hear me better while I was talking. Now he turned back and faced me. He lifted an arm and placed his hand on the wall just above my shoulder. Then he leaned in close and spoke.
When I turned my head to listen, his tan arm was inches from my face. It was lean with defined muscles under a black swirling tattoo.
“Sorry, what was that?” I asked him.
Somehow I’d missed what Laz had just said.
“I said that I saw the video on TV, but what you’re telling me sounds crazy,” said Laz. “You followed a man to the club from the subway. And then you followed him back into the subway with some guy he picked up here. So now you know that he’s a kidnapper. How can you know that, Myrna? Have you been using psychedelics?”
I pushed down the angry reply that instinctively came to my lips, but I still felt frustrated.
I’m not going to be able to explain this, and I need to get back to looking for that man! I thought.
I spoke to Laz in a fierce, intense voice. “People are disappearing and maybe dying, and I need to try to stop it. That man takes people from this club. I can’t explain how I know, and I probably can’t convince you or make you understand. But I still need to find him. Because I’m the only one who can. I tried to report him to the police, but they wouldn’t listen. So it’s up to me.”
So close, Laz stared into my eyes for a moment. Then he spoke.
“Even if you’re right, what do you expect to do about it? Are you planning to go with him too? If he’s kidnapping people and then they disappear? How’s that going to help?”
I thought about that. I hadn’t planned past looking for him in the club. What would I do next?
“You’re right, Laz,” I said. “I’ll have to go with him. That’s the only way.”
I tilted my head to both sides, trying to look past Laz, in case I’d missed the man I was looking for while we were talking.
“OK. I’ll move out of your way,” said Laz. “But no. I didn’t mean that’s a good idea.”
He took his hand down from behind me and moved around to lean against the wall besi
de me. His shoulder pressed against mine, but I didn’t move away.
I scanned the crowd in front of me and didn’t see the man, but I noticed a change in the color of the smoky air. Its black light purple-tint was now spotted with red. Blood red. I didn’t know how, but I felt the man’s presence in the club, and I felt him moving closer.
I tipped my head sideways toward Laz, so I could talk without yelling. I was tall, and with my heels on, we were about the same height.
“He’s here!” I spoke into Laz’s ear. “He’s coming this way! And yes, I need to go with him. To find out where he takes people.”
“No, Myrna. No,” said Laz.
Laz turned back around toward me, but he didn’t speak again. He moved in closer this time and put both his hands on my shoulders. My mind registered the inappropriateness of the situation, but I didn’t move away. I didn’t want to move away.
Laz was so close that his lips were next to mine but not touching. I felt the man from the subway just a few feet away now. Right behind Laz.
“I need to go with him,” I mouthed the words to Laz, brushing my lips against his as I spoke.
“No,” he said back, brushing his own lips on mine.
And then, our lips were together. Laz’s lips were full and warm in the club’s chill air. Without thinking about it, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his narrow waist.
He moved closer, and our bodies pressed together. The kiss continued, and for several minutes, I stopped thinking about the man I was looking for. I stopped thinking about anything except how good it felt to be in Laz’s arms.
⌛
A loud male voice yelled into my ear and broke the spell.
“Myrna? Is that really you? And you’re kissing Laz? I can’t believe this!”
I pulled back from Laz and turned toward the man standing next to me. A familiar face with big bulging eyes and thick smirking lips was within a few feet of my own face.
“Steve. Hi,” I said.
I was flustered by the interruption. And I suddenly realized what I was doing when I was supposed to be finding Chloe’s abductor.
Laz seemed less flustered.
“What the hell, Steve!” he said, turning toward him.
Steve, also a tall, thin man but in his thirties and thick in the middle, held up both hands as if protesting his innocence.
“Can’t I say hello to an old girlfriend I haven’t seen in years?” he asked.
“I wasn’t your girlfriend,” I clarified as I had so many times in the past.
“Well, you weren’t my roommate or my cousin either, like you always claimed,” said Steve.
“You’re right, Steve. I lied,” I said. “I’m sorry. Anyway, it’s nice to see you again. I hope you’re well, but I don’t have time to talk. There’s something more important I need to do right now.”
“You mean kissing Laz?” Steve asked.
The smirk on his thick lips lifted up higher.
“No. Not that. I don’t know how that happened. That wasn’t part of my plan,” I answered.
I took my hands from around Laz’s waist, surprised by my feeling of reluctance, and stepped back from him. Meanwhile, Laz glared at Steve but didn’t say anything.
Steve didn’t appear at all intimidated by the glare.
“You know, Laz wasn’t exactly my roommate either,” said Steve.
I wasn’t surprised or shocked by that insinuation. I knew that most of my clients slept with the older, wealthier patrons of the Tenderloin Club for drugs, a meal, a place to sleep.
“Steve. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to argue right now,” I told him. “Like I told you, I’m here for something important. I’m trying to find the man who’s been kidnapping teenagers. You saw that on TV, right? He’s taking them from this club, and he was just here.”
Steve stared at me with his huge eyes that were somehow beautiful, perhaps his best feature, although I’d never been attracted to him.
I expected Steve to laugh or otherwise express disbelief, but he didn’t.
“Hey, I did see that on the news,” he said. “That girl who got kidnapped was your client at the clinic? And now you’re looking for the kidnapper? Wow! Those are some bad dudes, Myrna. You’d better be careful. But I can help you. I’m there for you Myrna. Here’s my card in case you forgot my number.”
Steve reached a hand into the pocket of his stylish jacket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to me, and I took it and put it into the small pocket in my pants.
Now Laz spoke to Steve. “You said it’s dangerous, but you’re encouraging her? Are you crazy? Did you know she’s planning to try to get kidnapped herself?”
I knew Steve, and I knew he probably was crazy, but I didn’t say anything. He’d helped me in the past, giving me a place to stay and food without demanding sex, although he’d made it clear that was what he wanted.
“I know Myrna, and she’s going to do this anyway, no matter what anyone says, so I’m just offering to help,” said Steve.
He turned back to me again.
“Myrna, if you’re going to go with this kidnapper guy, you’ll need weapons. I can help you get something. And you might need a place to stay again. Just call me,” said Steve.
Laz put his hands on his hips and yelled at Steve. In the noise of the club, his words were just audible.
“You’re offering to get her weapons now! Knives? Guns? If she’s got a knife, that guy will just take it away and stab her with it. You’ve got the money to buy her a black market gun? That’s insane! She’ll never get through the club’s weapons detector with that stuff anyway.”
“He’s right,” I said. “I need a weapon, but I need something that can get through weapon detectors.”
“OK. Got it. I know a guy who has that stuff,” said Steve. “Call me tomorrow, and we’ll get what you need.”
Then Steve turned and yelled at an orange-haired young girl in a white mini skirt and white stockings who’d just walked by.
“Fantasia! Hey! Wait up!”
He strode away after her.
I felt Laz’s hand on my shoulder. He moved back in close to me.
“What a jerk!” said Laz. “At least now we can go back to where we were before.”
Laz brushed his lips against mine. But this time, I pulled back a few inches.
“I really want to go back to where we were, but I can’t,” I said.
He stiffened, but he didn’t move away or take his hand off my shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was irresponsible of me because I’m your counselor at the clinic. I’ll lose my job if I get involved with any of my clients. That was in the contract I signed. It was wrong. I was wrong. I’m sorry,” I said.
“That’s OK. I’ll just stop going to the clinic. In fact, that was why I didn’t go to my last appointment. Because I was into you, and I was confused about it,” Laz admitted.
“No. Please don’t stop going, Laz,” I said. “You can change counselors if you want to. Anyway, I’m here to find the kidnapper. That’s what I need to be doing.”
I turned my head and looked around again—as far forward as I could see through the crowd and the smoky air. The red tint in the air was gone now, and I no longer felt the man’s presence.
“He’s gone! I’ve missed him!” I said with deep disappointment.
Laz sighed.
“OK, Myrna. I don’t want you to lose your job, and I won’t kiss you again. But I wish you’d forget about looking for this kidnapper. Steve was right about one thing, if you do find that guy, he’s probably going to hurt you too,” said Laz.
“No Laz. I can’t give up. I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I have to do it,” I said. “And now since he’s not here, I need to go home and get some sleep because I have to work tomorrow morning and then come back here tomorrow night.”
“Will you at least let me walk you to the subway?” Laz asked. “It’s late, and I’m worried about you.”
“OK
. Sure,” I answered, and we both turned and left the club.
Chapter 15
Late the next evening, I sat across from Steve in a Ukrainian restaurant in the East Village. He said he’d take me to the man he knew who had weapons. But Steve asked me to have dinner with him first.
It was a small request, and I’d agreed. A waiter served our huge meal of heavy carbs and cream, and I found myself ravenous. A meal like this was something I’d never been able to afford on my sparse earnings from the clinic.
Steve chuckled.
“You’ve lost weight since you left me, babe,” he said. “But stick with Stevo, and you can eat like this all the time.”
“The food is great. Thank you, Steve,” I said. “But you know I’m here because of what I need to do.”
I didn’t want to talk about it specifically in the crowded restaurant.
“Why are you dressed so plain, with no makeup?” Steve asked me, as we both dug into dumplings and borsht. “Last night you looked like your normal self, except skinnier. I was expecting you to be more dressed up tonight.”
Now I noticed Steve’s black silk dress shirt. His black curly hair was slicked back, and he smelled of expensive perfume. I remembered that he often dressed up when he went out to dinner. I would have felt guilty even a few weeks ago, but now I was only mindful of my purpose.
Some kind of obsession had changed the way I thought about things. And a kind of mental blur was always with me now. A blur that kept me from thinking much about things like clothes and meeting other people’s expectations about my looks and even my behavior.
That area of my mind was blurred, but any thoughts about finding the kidnapper were razor sharp.
“I don’t dress like that anymore, Steve,” I said. “This is my normal look now. I’m a drug clinic counselor. You know that.”
“Right. Right,” said Steve. “You’re a professional. That’s cool. And you still look beautiful, just different, that’s all. But look, Myrna. There’s one thing you need to do for me since I’m doing this favor for you.”
