by L. T. Vargus
“Shut up.”
Will whipped his head toward Charlie.
“You say something?”
“Hm? No. Did I?”
“I don’t know. It sounded like you were sort of whispering something.”
“Thinking out loud, maybe,” Charlie said, managing to talk through Allie’s giggling. “I guess I’m kind of nervous.”
Will parked the car as he answered.
“Nervous? About going into this stinkhole?”
He killed the engine and rotated in his seat to face Charlie directly. Will waited until her eyes met his.
“We’ll have no trouble whatsoever. Trust me.”
“He seems pretty confident, Charlie,” Allie said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m reassured by a man who knows his way around a seedy strip club.”
Shut up. Charlie thought it with the sharpness of a knife’s edge.
When she glanced over at Will again, he was studying her intently.
“How are you handling all of this, anyway?” he asked. “The case in general, I mean. It must feel a little personal for you, considering…”
He trailed off, but the implication was clear. It must be personal to be working a case about two missing girls after what happened to Allie.
Charlie looked away, staring out her window at the neon glow of the club’s sign.
“I know what’s at stake. That’s for sure.”
“It feels kind of like a nightmare, doesn’t it? Like history repeating itself in the worst way possible,” Will said. “I know the girl’s dad, you know? Ted Spadafore.”
That got her attention. Charlie swiveled to face him.
“You do?”
“He’s my financial advisor.”
“What’s he like?”
“Like the kind of guy you’d trust with your 401K. Solid, but boring. Anyway, we’re not exactly buddies or anything, but it’s a reminder of what a small damn world it is. We’re all attached by these invisible strings, it seems like.”
Charlie nodded, thinking he was exactly right. Her whole job was to find those invisible strings and pluck them one by one to see where they led. With any luck, she’d find a few fresh strands tonight.
“Well,” Will said. “You ready?”
Charlie took another deep breath and reached for her door handle.
They climbed out of the car and started making their way across the wet asphalt. And there was the bouncer, the same one from her last visit here, as bulky as ever. Perched on his stool like a bear performing in a circus. His phone was jammed to his ear again. Maybe that was good. Another potential distraction.
She clutched at Will’s arm as she laid eyes on the bouncer, an instinctive move, done without thought. If he minded a grown woman pawing at his arm like a frightened child, however, he showed it not at all. He looped his elbow inside hers as though they were square-dancing partners.
As they stepped up onto the sidewalk and took the final paces to the velvet ropes, Charlie’s anxiety intensified by an order of magnitude. Weird things lurched in her belly with great violence—sea creatures, she thought. Like two large frogs were fighting to the death in the pit of her stomach.
She tried to plan what she would do if the bouncer showed any sign of recognition. How she might try to seem nonchalant about it. Confused. Tilting her head to one side like a dog out of its depth.
Instead the bouncer seemed to recognize Will. He gave the faintest nod and waved them through without much thought. Once again, he was loud-talking on the phone, this time about different small dog breeds. They got an earful as they passed through the gap where the velvet rope had swung out of the way.
“Thing about pugs is their respiratory problems, bro. Real serious probs on account of their flat snouts. Me, I’m more of a Min Pin guy. Real regal breed. Prancing around everywhere like they own the whole world, you know?”
She kept expecting his words to cut off all at once. Surely he’d notice her. Surely they’d get turned away, just like before. Instead he went on about dogs.
“Oh, no way. You gotta clip the ears and dock the tail, bud. Now I know the AKC no longer requires it, but let’s be real. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’ll always be. Nuh-uh. Don’t want ’em. Just snip ’em off.”
Will pushed open the door, held it for her, and Charlie pressed forward into the forbidden realm beyond.
Chapter Forty-One
The sleazy club was pretty much exactly what Charlie expected—right down to the stench. Bad cologne intermingled with the greasy food in the buffet, all of it tinged with just a hint of body odor.
Topless girls gyrating? Check.
Liquor? Check.
Sweaty losers ham-fisting dollar bills into G-strings? Check.
A couple of men in sweatpants camped in the corner near the buffet, their plates piled high with bright orange chicken wings? Check.
Charlie reminded herself of the plan as she crossed the room toward the seating. Settle in. Observe. Then look for openings to ask some of the girls about Amber and Kara.
Gaudy lights swung around the room before refocusing on the breasts center stage. Soloing guitars blared over the speakers, music from the dreaded 1987 to ’89 era when the only thing bigger than the guitars was the hair. At least Charlie’s disguise wouldn’t seem out of place.
She followed Will across the room to a table in the darkest corner, where they’d be able to watch from the shadows. A swiveling strobe light passed over them periodically, but other than that they were well hidden.
“This is weirdly like the cantina scene in Star Wars,” Allie said. “Except, you know, filthy.”
“And sort of pathetic,” Charlie said.
“You pass through these doors, and it’s like a different universe exists within these walls. Totally foreign to ours, bustling with strange life and customs.”
A waitress in a Red Velvet Lounge branded tank top and black booty shorts came over to take their mandatory drink order. Her top was slit down the front, revealing lots of cleavage and just a hint of black lace bra.
“Jim Beam, neat,” Will said.
The waitress turned her gaze on Charlie and smiled.
“What about you, hon?” Her voice was high-pitched and soft like a little girl.
“I’ll have the same,” she said.
The lights went down across the room, and there was a moment of quiet as the darkness caught everyone’s attention. A single spotlight flared on the stage, and out came a dancer with a snake draped over her shoulders—a python, if Charlie wasn’t mistaken. The men in the front row grew rowdier as she emerged. Hooting. Hollering.
The waitress returned with their drinks. Charlie sipped at her glass, dabbing at the droplet of watered-down bourbon that clung to her lip.
“So are you less nervous now that you see how ridiculous this place is?” Will asked.
“Well, yeah,” Charlie said.
She thought about launching into Allie’s Star Wars cantina observation but held her tongue. Allie hated when Charlie stole her material.
Just as quickly, Charlie’s mind snapped to the idea that Will had come here before. There was something disorienting about that—here he was making fun of it, conspiring with her as if they were both outsiders observing this strangeness, and yet the bouncer out front had recognized him.
She looked Will up and down, let her eyes scan the room again. She couldn’t picture it.
“You’re wondering if he’s more of a wing guy or a breast guy, right?” Allie said.
The image flashed in Charlie’s head of Will pulled up next to the buffet, loading fiery orange wings onto his plate, rapid-fire tapping the tongs excitedly between wings as though applauding with the kitchen tool. She cringed and took another drink.
“I’m curious about something,” Charlie said, waiting until she had Will’s full attention. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said you come here, didn’t you? Like on a regular basis. You knew exactly what club I was talki
ng about when I was still sort of grasping around for the place. Like no hesitation, you knew. Immediately.”
He laughed.
“Oh, I come here alright. Not on my free time, though.”
Charlie felt her brow crinkle.
“What does that mean?”
“It probably sounds weird, but it’s a work thing. Certain clients are more comfortable meeting in places like this, believe it or not.”
“Like who?”
He shrugged and took another sip. She’d thought about telling him the drinks were all the cheap stuff, but he’d surprised her by ordering Jim Beam in the first place—a fairly cheap, if well-regarded, bourbon.
“Oh, I represent all kinds of people,” he said. “Everyone from local ministers to factory workers to people like the owners of clubs like this one. Take a step back and think in general terms. Imagine, say, pro athletes, rock stars, that kind of thing. You can imagine Dennis Rodman or Gene Simmons wanting to meet in a strip club, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well, a lot of guys in the business world are in a sort of equal state of arrested development, even if they wear a suit instead of face paint and piercings. Bottom line: everyone needs a lawyer at some point. It’s my job to accommodate all of them. In some cases, that means going into their worlds, into the places where they’re comfortable, and I don’t mind it a bit. You get to see all the different hues and tones when you go out among the people.”
Charlie glanced at the dancer, who was still gyrating onstage with the snake strung across her shoulders, though she’d lost some of her clothing along the way.
“And who are you to judge if the people you’re among just so happen to be half-nude and dry-humping a metal pole, right?” she said dryly.
Will shrugged.
“All of life is light and shadow, right? Well, I’d rather have more colors than fewer in my life. I know other people don’t see it that way, and that’s fine, too.”
He tipped his head back and finished off his bourbon before he went on.
“It strikes me that a lot of us live in a sort of echo chamber these days. We surround ourselves with people who agree with us on everything— politics, art, entertainment. A lot of people might say a place like this is offensive on multiple levels, and I might even agree on some points. But who am I to impose my ideals on someone else? And what a boring, monotonous world it would be if I could.”
Charlie eyeballed Will as he waved over their waitress and ordered another drink. His answer made sense. There were even qualities in it she found charming, and yet… well, Will had always been good with words. Had he merely found a way to make frequenting a strip club sound like some noble cause? Maybe he’d told a partial truth, concealed the ugly parts and played up the pretty ones.
“Dude’s too damn slick for his own good,” Allie said just above a whisper, as though Will might hear her.
“A lot of fancy talk, but I know why you really come here,” Charlie said once Will was looking her way again.
“What’s that?” he said.
“The wings.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Having spent some time in the club, Charlie could see that her original plan would never work. It was too busy. There was no way she could walk up to any of these girls and ask them about Kara and Amber. The bouncers had eyes on the girls above all—protecting the merchandise.
Plan B it was, then. She’d need to sneak into the back, and she’d need Will’s help to do it. At least she’d had the foresight to prep him for the possibility. He’d be going above and beyond to help her on this one.
Charlie downed the last of her drink and felt a rush as the alcohol entered her bloodstream. The top of her scalp tingled ever so slightly, and a numbness grabbed at her cheeks. A little liquid courage could help with this next step.
She met Will’s eyes. Leaned in close to him.
“You ready to do this?” she asked.
Nodding once, he turned to face the crowd. Scanning. Picking out his target. She liked that he was being this strategic.
Part of her had expected some nerves from him when the moment arrived. He was about to tangle with security at a strip club, probably get a whole slew of people paying attention to him in the process. A smidge of stage fright would be normal as far as she was concerned. Instead, he seemed cockier than ever.
He strutted across the room, taking a sip of his drink along the way. She could see him making a show of scanning the room, his expression conveying how utterly unimpressed he was by everything around him. It occurred to her that this kind of thing must be fun for him. Manipulating people. Playing a role. Maybe that made sense. He’d described the courtroom as a kind of theater himself. Maybe he honed his swagger there, refined it into something he could turn off and on with the flick of some mental switch.
Along the far wall, he conferred with one of the bouncers, gesturing wildly. The bouncer leaned his head back and roared out a laugh she could hear over the music.
“He’s way too good at this,” Allie said.
“Yeah, maybe.”
Now Will’s body language changed again. He tightened up. Hands coming up as though to defend himself.
The bouncer roared out another guffaw, again tipping his head all the way back as though to point the laughter at the ceiling. Charlie realized that Will was acting out some joke. The bouncer wiped tears from his eyes and waved over another bouncer who was standing guard at the back hallway.
That was Charlie’s cue. She rose from her seat, straightened the spangled skirt of her dress, and pressed forward into the crowded main floor. She crossed through the throngs of men crowding around the smaller stages where girls disrobed and gyrated.
At last she reached the clearing before the back hall. She tried her best to look nonchalant, to channel whatever cool indifference Will had going for him as he’d made his way up to the bouncer. And she resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder at him now, to check his progress with the second bouncer in particular. She thought maybe she could hear the three of them laughing, but it was hard to be sure over the blaring music.
She stepped into the hall, into the shadows. It was much darker here. Her eyes opened wide, trying to make out her surroundings.
She pushed through another set of doors, and there she saw it. The room she’d gotten to last time just before the bouncer grabbed her—the place where she’d heard girls’ voices just beyond the door.
Chapter Forty-Three
Charlie eased open the heavy steel door, trying to get a peek as the slab of metal glided away. At first, she could only see the bright light shining in the growing slit of the doorway.
Then she saw the girls—six of them huddled before a pair of vanities, barely dressed, caking on makeup in the mirrors. They seemed younger than the dancers she’d seen on the floor. Fresh-faced and innocent-looking.
They all glanced up at her, gone quiet for a second, but their previous conversation resumed after the hitch. They weren’t exactly surprised to see her, she thought.
“Anyway… What was I just saying?” a redhead with a long face and neck said, smearing more eyeliner around her fake lashes.
“You were talking about this stupid smoking law stuff,” another girl said. This one had dark hair in a frizzy mess of crinkles atop her head.
“Right. Yeah. See, everything they do to try to restrict it just makes smoking seem cooler. Rebellious, you know? Vaping, too. When you outlaw something and try to repress it, you only make it more appealing.”
“It’s the forbidden fruit,” Frizzy said.
“What?” Red said, turning her head. “Oh, right, yeah. That’s it exactly. ‘Tastes better ’cause it’s stolen’ is what I always say for that, but I can respect your, uh, biblical reference.”
Charlie approached slowly as the two kept talking, almost like she was creeping up on a pack of small woodland animals, worried she might spook them into bolting.
A mousy girl turned to Charl
ie as she got close and spoke to her in a low voice. “Are you the new girl?”
Charlie hesitated a second before she answered, instantly falling into the suggested role. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m nervous. Not sure how all of this works. I mean, I guess I’ve never done anything like this. You know?”
The other girls all turned now, cooing and offering support. Comforting phrases peppered at her from all angles, the voices tangling over each other.
“Don’t worry. You’ll do great.”
“Aw, you’ll get the hang of it.”
“Just stay strong.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said, wiping a fake tear from the corner of her eye. She took one of the seats near the left vanity, which one of the girls gave up for her.
“Jesus. Dial it back a little,” Allie whispered. “You maybe don’t remember what it’s like to be young anymore, but these troubled youths have finely tuned bullshit detectors. They’ll sniff out your waif act from a mile away if you lay it on too thick.”
Charlie noticed that instead of standard stripper garb—like the schoolgirl outfit and leopard-print ensemble she’d spotted onstage—the girls back here all wore more traditional lingerie. Corsets and garters and other items that took more effort to remove.
“So could I maybe ask you some questions about what to expect?” Charlie said, turning to face the group. “It might help me calm down, I think.”
They all nodded and vocalized various terms of agreement.
“What kind of stuff do you usually do?” Charlie asked.
Now they all fell quiet.
Red shrugged.
“You know,” the long-faced girl said, turning back to the mirror. “Depends on what the guy wants, I guess.”
Charlie licked her lips. She’d suspected something more than stripping since she walked through those doors. Now she was on the verge of confirming it.
