Igor chuckled. “My sister wants to be Girl Scout; you can show her how to sell cookies.”
“You can shove those cookies.”
Igor grinned, giving her a sideways glance. He leaned over and brushed her shoulder.
“What was that?”
“I saw chips on shoulder.”
Sammy looked up. “Is the paint flaking off in this place?”
“Isn’t that saying, ‘You walk with chip on shoulder’?”
“Mind your own chips,” Sammy said, turning away from Igor. “I should just leave so he can call me back at six thousand.”
“You were smart to challenge offer. Now be smart and make it easy for him to accept.”
“I bet he’s too stubborn.”
Igor lifted the cup to his lips. “Does he remind you of someone?”
“Yeah, you.”
“He is coming.”
“If he gives me another lowball offer, I’m walking out.”
Igor put his cup down. “If you can’t be nice, try to be pleasant.”
Jonathan stopped by the table and slammed down a bunch of twenties. “I expect to hear something from you by the end of the week.” He spun around and marched off.
“Didn’t expect that,” Sammy said, looking back at Igor.
“He knew he had no other choice,” Igor said, gazing at the bills. “I’ll need a twenty for my expenses.”
“What expenses?”
“Whodka.”
“What’s whodka?”
“It is what Russians drink before they start talking.”
Sammy slid him a twenty and stuffed the rest into her pocket.
Chapter Eighteen
_____________________________
Sammy sat next to Igor in the back of the transporter on the way to the other skin joint. Cindy had called for the transporter and said she’d pick them up later when she left work.
Sammy flipped down the back-seat mirror, afraid she’d smudged the makeup Cindy had applied for what seemed like hours. She hardly recognized the face looking back. “Afraid to touch my face.”
Igor shifted in the seat. “You should wear makeup more.”
The blonde wig felt as if it sat too high. She yanked it down. “As long as I look old enough to get in.”
“It is better than dressing like boy.”
“There goes my Girl Scout cookie career.”
Igor’s gaze lingered on the oversized bra. It had enough foam to make a stuffed toy envious. “I would buy cookies.”
Sammy flipped up the mirror. “Typical guy.”
“If you were typical girl, you would be flattered.”
The transporter stopped outside a one-story orange-iridescent building set back about forty feet from the curb. It looked like one of those all-you-can-eat, buffet-style restaurants. She expected to see a fat couple with their two fat kids waddling out. “Is this it?”
Igor ducked down to peek out the window. “Transporter says it is.”
A large screen along the side flashed “Xanadu.” A big-boobed girl waved them to come on in. “Yeah, this is the place.”
Sammy stepped out, holding the door to steady herself on the platform shoes. “I’ll never get used to these.”
Igor slid out, stuffing the bottle of vodka into his coat pocket. He glanced down at her shoes. “They give nice shape to legs.”
“Am I supposed to say thank you?”
Igor shook his head and closed the door. “Go. We have jobs to do.”
Sammy followed Igor along the sloping path. “I feel like I’m overdressed.”
“I go in back, and you go inside.”
“Got to go to that skin joint by myself?”
“I do it every time.”
“You’re a guy.”
“It is harder for me not to go in.”
He walked along the side of the building, disappearing into the shadows. Sammy heard a loud exchange in Russian. She wasn’t sure if they were arguing or just talking.
A car screeched to a halt in front of the place. It was long and sleek with an ebony glow. Like most cars it had a driver, who was a girl in her twenties, dressed in all black—a sleeveless shirt, short skirt, and black stockings. She was tall and slender, towering over the roof of the car with her six-inch heels. She opened the back door and out stepped a guy dressed in golden yellow from his bowler hat to his patent leather shoes.
The girl’s movements seemed jerky as if her arms and legs were too long for accomplishing anything gracefully. The guy took his time preening. Sammy figured he was as much as thirty, and if he had a mirror, he’d fall in love.
The guy walked with an exaggerated strut, the golden-yellow suit pulsing. The girl sauntered up beside him with long, silky strides; her legs seemed to arrive moments before the rest of her.
She stopped by Sammy and looked down at her with a smirk as if she could see through the wig and phony boobs. “A little bird.”
The guy turned back, looking from long-legged spider girl to Sammy. “Need an invitation, sugar?” The pitch of his voice seemed too high for a guy of his size and his tone overly playful. Nothing about them seemed right.
“Come on in, little bird. I won’t bite,” she said, tracing her finger under Sammy’s chin. “Maybe a nibble.”
The place must attract all the crazies. Sammy scooted behind the guy in the golden suit and glanced back at Spider Girl, hoping she didn’t try to bite her head off. The wig might be a deterrent.
A guy the size of a mountain opened the door for them. A lady greeted them a few steps inside with a big, cheery smile as though they were good friends. She led them to a roped-in VIP section.
Sammy veered away, but Spider Girl grabbed her hand. “This way, little bird.”
“I think you’re confusing me with somebody else.”
“I never confuse my little birds,” she said, pulling Sammy to the table.
Sammy went along to avoid a commotion.
The golden guy sat at the table with his legs spread wide. “Sit and tell us all about yourself, sugar.”
“Got to get something,” Sammy said, hitching her thumb.
“Now, what kind of host would I be if I didn’t get what you needed?”
Sammy leaned over the table. “I got to pee.”
Spider Girl pushed a bowl of mixed snacks toward her. “If you don’t mind them a little wet.”
Sammy stepped back. “Eew!”
Spider Girl plucked a kernel of popcorn from the bowl and popped it into her mouth. She chewed, staring at Sammy as if waiting for her to say something else.
Sammy spun away and got as far from the table as she could. She followed waitresses getting drinks, appetizers, or snack-bowl refills, but psychedelics were never mentioned. Then she spotted a girl dressed in a white shirt and black vest, carrying a slim wooden box. A table of suits waved the girl over.
A guy at the end tapped his phone. “Four psychs.”
“Pills or strips?” she asked, placing the box on the table.
They settled on pills. The girl pulled a side lever, dropping the four dark-green pills onto the table.
Sammy spotted another girl with a box passing through a door just right of the kitchen. It didn’t have a card reader. How did they get in?
A huge guy strolled up to her. “Can I help you?” He had an edge to his voice to show he wasn’t really interested in helping.
Sammy straightened her bra. “Looking for the bathroom.”
He nodded to the other side of the place, his face like stone.
Yeah, she wasn’t the first one to try to get into that room. Halfway across the place, she turned back. He was still watching her. She wasn’t getting through that door. The place might just be too hot to get Johnny’s recipes.
Sammy slipped into the bathroom. One of the pads from the left cup slipped out. A girl was leaning over the sink with a slight sway in her stance as if moving to a beat. The end stall was occupied. Sammy went to the stall two over.
“
It’s freezing in here,” the girl in the end stall shouted, then peed into the bowl.
“Ugh, there should be a law against talking while peeing.” Sammy unzipped the back of her dress.
“It’s blowing right on me,” the girl shouted.
Sammy took the bra off and tightened the strap, then shoved the pads in. Between the pads and the wig, she was warm and could use a cool blast. She looked up and spotted the air-conditioning duct, which ran along the wall to the end stall with a low-hanging vent. It was a big old industrial version, big enough for her to fit into.
After the two left, Sammy raced to the end stall. She took off the platform shoes, held onto the divider, and stood up on the seat. She was still too short to reach the vent. She stepped onto the flush pipe and held the duct with one hand and probed the vent with the other. The latch clicked, sending the vent swinging open.
She’d have to swing like on the uneven bars at the Gymnastics Center to get in, and she wouldn’t be able to do it in a dress. The only problem was she’d be crawling through the cold confines in her underwear.
Sammy climbed down and laid the dress over the shoes as if she were sitting down. She checked the bra pads to make sure they were secure. It’d be the only thing keeping her warm. She climbed back up to the vent, grabbed hold of the opening, then swung back and forth until she had enough momentum to pull herself in.
Sammy closed the vent and crawled on her hands and knees, finding that if she moved quickly, the cold didn’t bother her. She followed the duct around bends and turns until she came to a point where it branched. She followed the branch, then stopped at the first vent and spotted a red-tiled floor and stacked pots on a stainless-steel table. It was the kitchen. She backed out and crawled another fifteen feet to the next branch. The kitchen was next to the psychedelic room, so this had to be it.
The first vent showed a stainless-steel chute dropping pills into cartridges. She continued along the duct to the next vent and spotted a hopper in front of a conveyor belt. There was no way she could steal that machine. It had to be at least ten feet long.
She followed the duct to the back wall, where it turned left. A newer, narrower section continued into another room. She couldn’t fit her shoulders through but managed to duck her head in and peered through a small vent. A guy stood over what looked like a large stainless-steel cooking pot, gauges sticking out of the lid. Was he cooking the psychedelics in that?
Sammy angled her shoulders to get a little deeper into the duct, allowing her a view of the counter to his side. A black brick-shaped computer sat in the middle with a center hole for the holographic display, expensive and only used by big companies and rich people. That she could steal. Farther back was a tray of about a hundred test tubes, reminding her of chemistry class.
She figured whatever she needed to steal had to be in that room. Sammy shivered, rattling the duct. The cold air was swirling at the juncture, turning her into a Popsicle. She had to head back.
Sammy’s teeth were chattering by the time she got to the bathroom. She listened for any sounds, then popped open the vent and dropped down. She sat, rubbing her arms and legs to get warm.
The bathroom door swung open, letting in the sounds of the club. “You’re not trying to avoid me, little bird.”
Spider Girl? Sammy slipped on the dress and had it up about halfway when Spider Girl peered over the stall.
“Do you mind?”
She lingered before drifting back. “I missed my little bird.”
“Why don’t you get a pet?”
“What kind would you suggest?”
“A cat?”
“Cats don’t seem to like me.”
Sammy pulled up the dress and slipped her arms through the sleeves. “I wonder why.”
“Puppy dogs fetch me whatever I need, but I get bored of them. Now little birds are the most fun when I show them how to fly.”
She zipped the back of the dress. “So get a bird.”
“I think I will.”
Sammy stood and slipped her feet into the shoes. The toilet automatically flushed.
Spider Girl leaned back against the sink, making her long black stocking legs appear even longer. She pulled a red lollipop out of her mouth. “Want a lick?”
“No.” Sammy shuffled two sinks over. Her hands were black from the duct.
Spider Girl rolled the lollipop in her mouth, watching Sammy clean up. “Don’t forget the knees. You don’t want to give the impression that you’ve been crawling around where you don’t belong.”
Sammy glanced back at her. What did she know? Would she say anything? The skirt had a slit, exposing one knee. Sammy wiped down both. “Don’t know how I got so dirty.”
“Must be up to some dirty business.”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
She ran her finger along the back of Sammy’s arm. “Cold?”
“The vent was blowing on me.”
Spider Girl rubbed her hands together and clasped Sammy’s arm. “Feels as if all the vents were blowing on you.”
“It sure felt like it.”
She fished out a clear strip from her purse. “I have something that’ll warm you up,” she said, offering the strip to Sammy.
Sammy stared at it. “What is it?”
She grinned, dangling the strip between her fingers. “You really are a young bird.”
“I’m older than I look.”
“I’m sure,” Spider Girl said, peeling the backing off the strip. She took Sammy’s hand and, holding it gently but firmly, pressed the strip to the back of Sammy’s wrist. She stroked the back of the strip, then up the arm. “How’s that?”
Sammy pulled her hand away.
Spider Girl rolled the lollipop in her mouth, then took it out. “I didn’t bite once.”
Sammy rushed to the door. “I’m not sticking around for the nibbling.”
“Fly, little bird, fly,” she called out to Sammy.
Sammy was in the middle of the place and stared at the door where they made the pills, trying to remember the layout of the room from the vantage point of the duct.
The lights dimmed, giving her the sensation of being in a cave. She turned toward a bright light, which streamed through the air like water along a riverbed. It seemed to glow, shining a light on a big snake wrapped around a pole. The snake hissed at mice dressed in short skirts. It slithered on the pole, stirring a fear that had her gasping for breath.
Someone grabbed her from behind. It was the biggest praying mantis she had ever seen. She tried to free herself, but the grip didn’t budge. She figured it was ready to bite her head off. “Choke on the wig,” Sammy kept shouting, trying to wiggle free.
“You better sit down or you might hurt yourself, little bird.”
The tone was soft and calming. She walked with the creature, probably being taken to its lair. She sat down by a table that seemed to roll and pitch. Did she still have her head? It would really suck if she didn’t have a head.
Chapter Nineteen
_____________________________
Sammy stirred awake, seeing the top of a blonde head in her lap. She jumped and the wig tumbled to the floor.
Cindy turned to her. “Sam, you okay?”
Sammy bent over and picked up the wig. “Not sure yet.”
Cindy leaned in close. “How many pills did you take?”
“Pills?” She looked to the back of the place, remembering something about pills. Yeah, there was the machine that made pills. “I had the strangest dream, Cindy. There was this guy that glowed like the sun and some girl that looked like a big spider.”
Spider Girl strutted over with a tall glass and a straw. She shoved the glass in front of Sammy. “Here, drink this, little bird.”
“What is it?”
“Just soda water and a wedge of lime.”
Cindy looked up and smiled. “Hi, I’m Cindy.”
“I’m sure you are.” Spider Girl grinned and walked away.
“She’s tal
l,” Cindy whispered. “Do you mind if I take a sip?” Cindy took a good tug on the straw before Sammy could warn her.
“Does it taste okay?”
Cindy shrugged. “You might want to squeeze the lime into it.”
Sammy took a little sip and swished it around.
“I tried to get you up, but you were really out of it. Had to let go of the transporter,” Cindy said. “The guy in the yellow suit said he’d pay for another one. You know him?”
“Just met him tonight. I think they want me to join their carnival act.”
“Really?”
“Let’s get out of here.” Sammy stood, feeling a little unsteady.
“You okay?”
Sammy nodded, holding onto the back of the chair. The damned platform shoes didn’t help.
The guy with the golden suit stood by the table. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket. He held a glass of red wine as if he were holding a tray. “How you feeling, sugar?”
Sammy remembered calling him Golden Boy, and he’d laughed. It’d been a cackling kind of laugh.
He swirled the wine. “Takes a little getting used to.”
“Yeah, must be like hanging.”
He leaned back and laughed. It was the same cackling laugh she remembered. She’d thought it was a dream. He glanced at Spider Girl. “I see why you like her.”
Spider Girl studied Sammy, rocking the chair by the next table over. The club was mostly empty now. She was slumped low, further extending her long legs. Her knees were splayed, opening up her hips for all to come, but her expression was more calculating, discerning, making her look both open and intimidating. “She’s a special little bird.”
“Special?” he asked, brows arched as if he was surprised by anything she said. He raised the glass to Sammy and took a sip.
“Wound a little tight,” Spider Girl said, holding the glass of wine to her lips.
“Must explain my size.”
Golden Boy chuckled, looking back at Spider Girl. “You going to give her the full Tatiana treatment?”
Tatiana swallowed. “I said she was a special little bird.”
“Don’t want her to be passed out all night. Would you say half a strip next time?”
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