by G. K. Parks
“Partly.” Wilde was being cagey, and I wasn’t certain if that was his usual spiel or if I’d been too skittish earlier. “What do you do, Alex?”
“I’m hoping to get a job here.” I glanced back at the bar, but the owner was gone. “I have an audition tomorrow.”
“Audition?” Jace asked, annoyance flashing across his face.
“Apparently, there’s an opening for a dancer.”
“You dance?” Jace sounded surprised.
“We’ll see.” I cracked a weak smile. “It depends on if you plan to break my kneecaps or something.”
“No.” His face contorted into confusion. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know.” The bitterness found its way to my vocal cords. “You sabotaged my interview this morning. The coffee spill plus the traffic made me late, and I missed it.” I blinked a few times, glad that the waitress had just arrived with my food. “And you have an obvious vendetta against dress shirts.” Shifting my focus to the plate, I continued to speak while I disassembled the sandwich. “I know I shouldn’t blame you. I just really need something to work out.”
“You have an audition tomorrow, and you met us,” Wilde interrupted. “Things are already looking up.”
I glanced at him. “Wow, that’s really optimistic.”
“That’s kind of what I do.” Wilde removed a flyer from his pocket and handed it to me. I unfolded it awkwardly while keeping one hand on my fork. “I wanted to find a way to help people, and I started this movement.”
“It’s a church?” I looked up at him. “No offense, but I’m not particularly religious.”
“You don’t have to be. Some in the community are searching for a higher power, but others are simply there because they need support or want to give back. Times are tough for everyone. We all struggle with our burdens. Finances, health problems, addiction. Everything in day-to-day life just seems so desperate, so heartbreaking.” He gave me a sad smile. “Like seeing you have that freakout. I know your biggest problem isn’t really a stained shirt. You have troubles. That’s why I want to help people.”
“I appreciate it, but I’m not looking to join a church.” I pushed the flyer back to him, but he shook his head.
“That’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that there is help available. All you have to do is ask.” Wilde studied me for a moment. “People confuse dignity with pridefulness. There’s nothing wrong with having some friends to talk to when times are tough. It’s okay to ask for a little help.” He looked pointedly at Jace.
“It’s true.” Jace smiled warmly. “Tim helped get me squared away. I didn’t have a place to live or a job. Now I have both. Our community is growing, and this is a small town. People know us. They help one another out. If this audition doesn’t pan out and you’re still looking for a job, Tim might be able to help.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I finished eating, my stomach protesting the last few bites, but I forced them down. Then I tucked the flyer into my pocket. “I should get going.”
“It was nice meeting you.” Tim stood and shook my hand again. “Remember, we have a farmer’s market and open house on the weekends. You should stop by sometime.”
“Maybe I will.” I glanced back at Jace. “Do us both a favor and watch where you’re going next time. White linen shirts everywhere will thank you.”
“I’ll do that.” He watched as I walked away.
After leaving the restaurant, I realized I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Jace sent me on this job interview because he and Wilde would be there, but it wasn’t a job interview so much as begging for a job. The internet listing was wrong, or the owner simply didn’t want to hire me. Either way, I didn’t know if our intel was bad or if I’d gone off book in my attempt to carry through with the cryptic instructions. Why the hell didn’t we have an actual briefing and set agenda? Mark was right; the DEA was full of cowboys that played it off the cuff. That was fine when you were the only UC involved, but when you wanted to bring in a secondary operative, planning and strategy were necessary.
I returned to the apartment. No one was inside, and nothing strange had been left. My eyes searched the rooms for signs of surveillance devices, but I didn’t spot anything. Surveillance was keyed into the building security systems, and the housekeepers were agents who would sweep for bugs and leave notes. However, none of that helped me to relay a message to them. I couldn’t exactly go into the hallway and hold up a sign in front of the camera because building security would actually see it.
“What the hell am I doing here?” I asked the room. “What’s our play?” Narrowing my eyes at the smoke detector, I snorted. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t even know?”
Acknowledging that I was now speaking to inanimate objects as if they were hidden spy cams, I decided it was time to call it a night. I had to get up early in the morning and stretch, watch some internet footage of the saloon’s stage show, and try to learn the steps. Damn, I hated dancing.
Ten
Arriving for the audition a half hour early, I was shown to the dressing room where a rack of costumes was waiting in the center. Most of them were low-cut corsets with big poofy skirts in the dusty browns associated with the Wild West. Being this close to LA and not too far from Vegas meant that most of the dancers were struggling wannabe actresses or former showgirls. I didn’t have a prayer for getting this gig.
I picked the simplest costume that I could find and held it against my chest, secretly hoping it wouldn’t fit just to save myself the embarrassment of going through with the rest of this cockamamie plan. After changing, I left the dressing room, heading for the stage where the others were warming up.
I walked past one of the back offices, and the door opened. “Psst.” Turning, I spotted Decker lingering in the dark. “Get in here.” Once I was inside, he pushed the door closed. “What the hell are you doing?” he whispered angrily.
“I don’t fucking know. You told me to come here for a job. I’m following orders.”
“Dammit.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Rule number one, you don’t tell unnecessary lies. We had bad intel. The position was filled two days ago, so we would have found something else. You weren’t supposed to decide to broadcast that you can dance. Tim’s going to expect a performance.”
“This is an audition. I won’t make the cut, and that’ll be it. He doesn’t need to know anything more.”
“He’s here.”
“What?” Shaking off this newest hitch, I shrugged. “Fine. I’ll give him a show.”
“How? There’s no way you picked up a completely new skill set in the last eighteen hours.”
Snorting, I shook my head. “I spent my childhood being tortured with classical dance lessons. I sucked at them, but this is different. It’s steps and keeping time with the count. That’s something I actually can do. I’ll stay in the back and slink away when I don’t make the cut. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Don’t screw this up.” Despite the words, I heard the motivation behind it. Decker didn’t want to lose eight months of hard work over something this stupid.
“In the future, I suggest you make it very clear what you expect. Cryptic messages and crossed signals aren’t making things any easier on either of us.” I glared at him. “And if you bump into me again, I’ll knock you on your ass.”
“Break a leg.” He gestured to the door. “And to avoid any confusion, Tim doesn’t know I’m here.” He softened. “We’ll come up with a fleshed out plan once we see how your audition goes before we proceed further.”
“Thanks.” Taking a deep inhale, I peered out the slats of the blinds, slowly opened the door a crack, and slipped back into the hallway. I needed to be focused on the routine, but one thought continued to echo in my mind. Why was Tim allowed at the audition? How much pull did he have in this town?
The warm-up was brief. The choreographer went through the routine once at half speed to show us the steps. Then he per
formed the routine again at a normal pace with the music. Hitting stop, he turned around and smiled at us.
“Let’s see what you girls can do.” He hit the music, nodding with the beat and counting us off.
It wasn’t a particularly difficult routine. However, it did require flexibility, timing, and a bit of coordination so as not to trip over these ridiculous costumes. As we ran through, he began thinning the herd. I hadn’t missed a step, but that didn’t mean that I had any actual talent. Yet, as he continued to dismiss more and more of the women, I wondered why I hadn’t been asked to leave. We completed the routine for the third time, and he turned off the music. Four of us remained on the stage, and I had no doubt in my mind that I had no business being there.
“Okay, ladies, give this one a try.” He went through a second routine, this one with a few more intricate moves. Briefly, I wondered if we were trying out for the Moulin Rouge. We ran through the routine again, and he dismissed the girl to my left. Once she had cleared the stage, he smiled broadly at the three of us. “It looks like we’ve found some new talent. Sonya, you’ll be lead. Rehearsals will begin this evening to get you ready for the weekend performance. Katy and Alice will be background dancers.” He came closer, holding out a stage layout. “Katy will be here.” He pointed to a spot close to the center. “Alice,” he glanced up, and his eyes relayed what I already knew, I wasn’t his top choice, “you’ll be here.” He pointed to the far corner, practically invisible to most of the diners due to the construction and shape of the stage. “Cast rehearsals will begin tomorrow afternoon. We perform a dinner show Thursday and Friday, and we have a lunch and dinner performance Saturdays and Sundays. Are there any questions?”
Sonya had several, and while she prattled on about technical things, I edged off the stage toward a waiting bottle of water. The restaurant was nearly empty except for the hostess wrapping silverware. However, Timothy Wilde sat at one of the tables off to the side. After the choreographer finished with Sonya and congratulated Katy, he approached me.
“Make sure you have the steps down.” He nodded encouragingly. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Thanks.” Forcing a smile on my face, I had to act like this was the greatest thing since sliced bread. The desperate woman from last night had been granted a reprieve.
A slow clap sounded behind me, and I spun. Wilde had left the table and was making his way toward me. I cocked a questioning eyebrow to appear genuinely surprised.
“Congratulations,” he cooed. “It appears your luck is turning around.”
“I hope so. Did you have anything to do with this?”
“Maybe.” He gave me a knowing smile. “Everyone could use some help sometimes.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you. That seems so lame, but thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You earned this. You made this happen. I just nudged the management in the right direction. Like I said, we need to help each other out.” He placed another flyer on the nearest table. “Just think about it.” Without so much as a goodbye, he walked away. Damn, he was smooth. We should probably add conman to his list of criminal attributes.
* * *
For the next month, Decker instructed me to remain aloof. We had weekly briefings at the command center to discuss strategy and plans. Wilde hadn’t lost interest in the prospect of having me join his cult, but Jace didn’t want me to appear too eager. My situation was supposed to be improving, not deteriorating, so I had no reason to run to Wilde for help. However, I did stop by his farmer’s market every weekend. Tim had given me a tour of the co-op and his facility, and he stopped by the restaurant on Thursdays to watch the dinner show, despite the fact that my dancing had not improved. If anything, it had probably gotten worse.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, eyeing the DEA agents. Jace hadn’t shown up yet for the weekly briefing, and my frustration had been increasing. I understood the reasons for a slow insertion and the need to avoid raising suspicion, but we weren’t getting anywhere. “Lexington’s background indicates that her assets are frozen. She can’t afford an apartment, not on what she’s making at the restaurant.”
“You have to be patient,” Ben insisted. “Someone ran a credit report two weeks ago. I’m guessing the request was generated by Wilde. He wants to know your precise financial situation. He should see you as the long game. It’s the best way to ensure your safety, Agent Parker.” He cocked his head to the side. “Alex?”
“Parker’s fine.”
He chuckled. “Good to know. We need him to see you as an investment. That’s why we can’t rush. Lexington’s savings account should be dwindling. After paying your bills this month, you’ll barely have enough to scrape together for another month. I believe he knows this. He’ll wait to make his move, but that’s why we’ve had you show some interest. You’re curious, and you’re grateful. He helped you out when you needed it. He’ll do it again, and in turn, he’ll expect you to return the favor.”
“He wants you to be grateful,” Decker declared, entering the room and coming to stand at the head of the table. “Eventually, you’ll be expected to repay his kindness.” He blinked a few times. “I don’t know what that might entail.”
“Meaning?” I asked.
“We know he’ll want access to your trust fund as soon as it’s no longer frozen. Based on the legal intricacies and docket number we’ve planted, it’ll be at least six months before the situation with your father’s estate is resolved. At that time, he’ll either create a situation that will require a financial contribution to his commune, or he might pursue a romantic engagement prior to that.” Decker glanced at the others. “Have we made any progress identifying who cut the drugs out of Wilde’s former followers?”
Carlo shook his head. “We’re friendly with the LEOs. They’ll let me know if they find something, but from what their CIs have said, it was probably the dealer that gutted the girls. Based on the coroner’s reports, each of the women had a large amount of narcotics in their bloodstream. They were either already dead or dying from an overdose when they were cut open. I’m guessing the balloons ruptured, and whenever the dealer found them, he cut out the stash and tossed the bodies aside.”
“We see it a lot,” Eve added. She clicked a few keys on the computer. “What we need to do is unearth the connection between Wilde and the local dealers. Then we might be able to get someone to talk.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” Jace growled, and my eyes shot to him.
Normally, he was friendly and calm, especially when he was back amongst friends. I knew personally how difficult it was to turn off the undercover persona at times, but something was clearly bothering him. I hadn’t seen him very often in the field, but I knew something was off.
“Jace, what’s up?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
Five sets of eyes stared at me, utterly horrified. Apparently, no one had called him out before.
Decker inhaled deeply, pushing his shoulders back and bringing his eyes up to meet mine. An amused twitch teased the corner of his mouth, and then he focused on the rest of the team. “Tim’s planning something. I don’t know what. I can’t pinpoint anything. I’ve been trying to stick close to him, but he seems secretive lately. I’m hoping it’s the break we need, but I have no way of knowing.”
“Surveillance hasn’t picked up anything suspicious. We’ve been monitoring his movements. No one new has surfaced,” Carlo offered. “We can get a second team to sit on him, if you think it’ll help.”
“No.” Jace glared at me, as if to say ‘see, this is why I don’t say anything’. “The last thing we need to do is spook him. I’ll keep on him.” He looked at his watch. “I hate to cut this meeting short, but I should get back.”
“Be careful,” Eve said.
“Stay safe,” Stella called.
“I’ll catch you guys later,” Jace replied, heading out of the room.
&nb
sp; Ben looked at his watch. “Don’t you have a rehearsal?”
I sighed dramatically. “A hundred bucks to anyone who kneecaps me.” I glanced around. “No takers?”
“No one told you to improvise,” Carlo retorted, “so you have no one to blame but yourself.” He smirked. “Don’t break a leg.”
“Ha ha.”
Letting myself out of the office, I went down the hallway to the back entrance where I’d parked. This mansion was a giant maze, but I’d finally gotten the hang of it. After getting back into my car and running through all the checks to make sure I wasn’t followed or being watched, I drove the twenty miles back to the tiny tourist trap town and parked in the designated employee spots. It was just another day of high kicks and shimmying for this working girl.
“Katy,” I called, spotting her in the dressing room, “where’s my costume?” The first couple of weeks had involved several practical jokes and a bit of hazing by the rest of the dance crew, but it had fizzled out.
“Ask the manager,” she said, rolling her eyes and lowering her voice. “How stupid is it that we have to do every rehearsal in full dress? It’s ridiculous. I worked at five different shows in Vegas, and we rarely did a dress rehearsal.”
“Yeah, it’s crazy.” Leaving the dressing room, I found the owner speaking to the choreographer in the hallway. “Excuse me. I can’t seem to find my costume.”
“Oh,” Mr. Lowery, the choreographer, turned, “if it’s not in the dressing room, it’s probably still on the truck. We sent them to the cleaners, and Dylan just picked them up. It’s the white pickup out front.”
Unfortunately, this wasn’t a sign that I was getting fired. Perhaps I should have mentioned the historical inaccuracies of the stage production and costumes or pointed out that our little dance number teased at the saloon being a brothel, and that wasn’t particularly family-friendly entertainment or educational. But with my luck, even that wouldn’t get me booted from this place. And Tim wanted me grateful. Making a mental note to have Mark run the financial history of this restaurant and its owner for any type of connection to Wilde and his cult, I once again stepped into the afternoon sunlight.