No One to Trust

by Julie Moffett

  “Wait. I think I might be sick.” The crowd backed off. Right at that moment the door slammed open and a fat guy with a cigar clamped between his teeth strode in.

  “What the hell is going on back here?” he shouted. “Tawny and Tickle are dancing three minutes over their set. Ursula and Tina, get your asses out on stage. Now!”

  Ursula and Tina, scrambled out onto the stage while the other girls had stepped in front of me protectively. But the guy had noticed me and squinted at me suspiciously. He shoved the girls out of the way. “Who the hell is this?”

  Susan stepped forward. “My sister. She’s visiting.”

  “Well, I don’t pay you to damn visit. And why is she half-dressed? Get back to work and get her the hell out of here.” With that he stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

  “Shit.” Susan pulled my shirt over my head. “Hank’s in a foul mood tonight. Do your best, girlfriend. We appreciate it.”

  I clutched the shirt to my chest like it was my last anchor to the world. “Look, Susan, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can do this. Besides, Hank just said he wanted me out of here.”

  “Don’t worry. He says that about everyone.”

  “Oh, God.” She yanked the shirt from my hand and slid the purple bra on me, fastening it in the back. “You should know I’m totally not cut out for this kind of thing.”

  “Honey, you’re a woman and that’s all we need for tonight. You’ll do fine. It’s a really good deed you’re doing.” She handed me a tiny pair of purple undies. “What size shoe are you?”

  “Shoe?” I stared at the panties.

  Susan was examining my feet. “My God, you’ve got big feet. Macy is the only one of us that might have something to fit you.”

  I kept staring at the panties until another one of the girls came by. She was dressed in a schoolgirl uniform with fishnet stockings. I would have eaten the panties if she were a day over eighteen.

  She gave me a shy smile. “Thanks for doing this. Michelle is my best friend and she loves her baby so much. If she didn’t have this job, she’d have to turn tricks. It’s really nice of you to fill in until Jody gets here.”

  “Jeez,” I moaned.

  Susan rushed back with a pair of mile-high black shoes. “Hurry, Lexi. Please. You’re up next.”

  I exhaled a deep breath. Telling myself it was for the baby, I slipped out of my plain white underwear, tennis shoes and socks. Trying not to stress over whether or not anyone else had worn them before, I slid on the panties, careful not to brush the area where I’d gotten the bikini wax. The panties covered exactly diddley in the back and barely diddley in the front. I wasn’t even sure it was legal. My breath was coming so fast I thought I might pass out.

  Before I could stop her, Susan helped me into the shoes. Then she swiped some blood-red lipstick across my lips, fluffed my hair and slipped the mask on my face.

  “Did you get a bikini wax today?” She hooked arms with me and dragged me to the side of the stage.

  “Yes. How did you know? Is my face still contorted in pain?”

  “No, it’s just a little red down there. But don’t worry. It’s dark on stage and no one will notice.”

  We’d reached the side of the stage and I saw Ursula look over at us and smile in relief. Just then a waitress walked by the stage below us with a tray held high. Bending over, I snatched a glass of amber liquid and downed most of it in one gulp.

  Susan looked at me in surprise. “Do you drink?”

  “Not much.” The alcohol burnt a trail down my esophagus.

  “I was afraid of that,” Susan said, pulling me out on stage. Ursula gave me a hug as we passed, whispering, “Be Pussy Galore. Be strong. Go conquer those Bonds.”

  “Agghhh,” I muttered, thankful at least Susan was out there with me.

  It might have been my imagination, but I swear the sound in the club lowered about six decimals and it seemed like every eye in the room was on me. That’s when I realized Susan had started dancing and I was just standing there like a frozen idiot.

  “Oh, God.” I quickly started moving my hips like I’d seen Ursula do. It didn’t feel at all natural and it seemed to me that the bar had become even quieter. My heart was racing so fast, I was having trouble breathing. Susan sashayed up to me and hissed, “Relax.”

  I strutted forward a couple of steps and grabbed the pole. Closing my eyes, I visualized Ursula in my living room, whipping her head around and sliding up and down the pole. I shook my head, my streaked hair flying all over the place, and in the process banged my ear on the pole. Thankfully, the sound was muffled, on account of the overly loud music, but for a moment I saw stars. I’d started to feel light-headed, maybe from acute anxiety, the bang to my head, the alcohol or all three in combination. I tried to hold it together and leaned backward provocatively (I hoped) still holding on to the pole. I lifted my leg to the ceiling and gyrated. I had no clue if this was appropriate and since it was dark, I couldn’t tell if the patrons were frowning or smiling. Couldn’t hear any booing.

  Yet.

  Unfortunately my hands were slick and before I could bring my leg back to the ground, I lost my grip on the pole. I half fell, half slid to the stage, bashing my butt on the floor with a loud unladylike thump. For a second I froze in horror. Then, in a moment of inspired desperation, I laid flat on the stage, lifting both my legs up in the air and crossing them back and forth like scissors. I hadn’t seen Ursula do this, but I think I’d witnessed something like this once in a yoga demonstration.

  I did this frantically until the room erupted in loud cheering. Surprised, I sat up and positioned one high heel beneath me to stand up. That’s when I realized someone had spilled something on the stage. Before I could get my other foot under me, I started to slide like a greased pig right toward the edge of the stage.

  I had time to give one horrified yelp before I slid off the stage and onto the nearest table. My butt hit something wet and gooey and my elbow overturned a glass directly onto the lap of a chubby guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Still in motion, my body slammed into him, my knee wedging somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.

  The breath knocked out of me with a sickening whoosh and the ceiling whirled. After I blinked a couple of times, I saw the bald bouncer come into focus as his face loomed over mine. With amazingly little effort, he extracted my knee from the chubby guy’s neck and lifted my ass back on stage, dumping me there like a sack of potatoes.

  Mortified I managed to stand up and saw the entire club had gone wild. Guys were pumping their fists in the air and chanting something at me. My head spun.

  Task her?

  Fast girl?

  What the hell were they saying?

  Oh, God. Mask Girl. They were calling me Mask Girl.

  Scared, I started to back up toward the side of the stage. Surely my seven minutes were up. I’d done my duty and saved Michelle’s job. I’d helped a baby in need. I deserved a freaking medal.

  That’s when I heard Hank shouting at me, “Michelle! You stay the hell on stage!”

  He had climbed onto the stage and now blocked the exit at side stage. Crossing his arms against his chest, he practically dared me to try to get past him. I shot a frantic glance at Ursula, who stood next to Hank looking as if she were in shock and staring at me like I was an alien from Mars. Maybe I was.

  I started to hyperventilate again. I had to go home right now or else I would pass out. Once I fell unconscious, an ambulance would come to remove my body, the police would raid the club and arrest the young schoolgirl for underage dancing, Michelle would lose her job and become a prostitute, and my mother would disown me after having to be hospitalized for massive heart failure.

  I started to see black around the edge of my vision when Ursula and another girl came to my rescue. They pushed past a surprised Hank and onto center stage, starting a very sexy dance together. The guys began to cheer and yell at the girls, taking the spotlight, at least temporarily, off me. I frantically tr
ied to figure a way to get the hell out of there when I saw a dark-haired man moving methodically through the crowd to the front of the stage. As he got closer to the stage light, I saw it was Slash. I had no idea what he was doing here, but I had never been happier in my life to see him.

  I almost started crying when he smiled and held out his arms. He mouthed one word.

  Jump.

  Without wasting another second, I ran to the edge of the stage and jumped into his arms. I almost knocked both of us to the floor, but somehow he held steady. At first I felt a hundred hands grabbing at me. Then Slash said something I couldn’t quite make out, wrapped an arm around me tightly and pulled me through the crowd. Whatever he said apparently did the trick or he gave off a dangerous vibe because, to my everlasting relief, everyone left us alone. We exited the club and stood on the sidewalk where he promptly gave me his leather jacket. His holstered gun was now on obvious display but I was freezing to death. I shivered as I slipped it on and he pulled me close, rubbing my back. The jacket only covered my upper body and my butt was literally hanging in the wind, but I appreciated the gesture.

  “You constantly surprise me,” he said after a minute. “And you smell like nachos.”

  My teeth started to chatter as I looked down at my high-heeled feet which had cheese sauce on them. “I think I slid into a plate of them.”

  “I’m not sure what I should say to that.”

  “Aren’t you wondering why I’m in a strip club?”

  “Actually, I’m beyond intrigued. But I warn you, I have quite an active imagination—one that you seem to enrich on a regular basis.”

  I hiccupped a sob. “Oh, God. I don’t even know what that means. Could this night get any worse?”

  “Lexi?”

  I glanced up and saw a dark shape hurrying down the sidewalk toward me. I squinted, wondering if I now needed glasses for everyday life, when the shape came sharply into focus. I inhaled a sharp gasp.

  “Father Mulrooney?”

  “Lexi?” he repeated, staring at me in surprise and disbelief.

  “Aaaahh.” I clutched the jacket tighter to my chest, wanting to run shrieking back into the club, but I was frozen in mortified shock and indecision.

  “What are you doing here?” He glanced up at the flashing neon sign that read Boobie and Bush Bar.

  I discreetly tried to tug the jacket lower to cover my purple panties, but it wasn’t helping much. Why the hell couldn’t Slash have worn a trench coat?

  “What am I doing here?” I repeated in an unnaturally loud voice. “As in right here? I…ah…um…”

  Father Mulrooney looked between Slash and me, and everywhere else except below my waist. I wanted to die. Really. Just pack it up and end it all. What was the point of going on?

  After a minute of the most awkward silence in the history of the universe, Father Mulrooney cleared his throat. “Well, I’m here because I was visiting an old friend’s mum who lives out here near St. John’s. The bus stop is down this way.”

  “It’s…ah, nice to see you. Done any crossword puzzles lately?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Okay, I know this looks bad. Not even nominally bad, but horribly, awfully, disgustingly bad. But it’s not what you think at all. There is a perfectly innocent explanation.”

  “Alright.” I could tell he didn’t believe me.

  “See, there’s this girl named Michelle. She has a baby and would lose her job. She didn’t want to be a prostitute, so I thought I could help her and the baby. It was all for the baby. Technically, I was only here to watch. I mean, I didn’t really want to watch, but it was my homework and then I…”

  Slash sighed and took the father’s arm, pulling him to one side and out of my earshot. They spoke quietly for several minutes with the father occasionally glancing my way. I shifted back and forth on my high heels, my legs and butt literally freezing, but I didn’t dare interrupt. After a while, Father Mulrooney waved at me and detoured into the parking lot toward a black SUV.

  I clutched Slash’s arm when he came back to me. “What did you say to him?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  Slash slid an arm around me, pulling me close. His breath was hot on my cheek. “I told him you were working undercover.”

  I stopped and considered for a moment. “Oh, good. That’s really good. Except I’m a computer geek for Finn’s company. Why would I be dressed like a stripper?”

  “Sorry, that’s classified information.”

  “That’s good, too. I’d buy it, but Father Mulrooney is no fool.”

  “No he’s not. That’s why deep down he figures there really is a good explanation for your appearance. Cara, don’t worry. He doesn’t make you for a stripper, a lady of the evening, or even sexually loose.”

  “Really? You convinced him of that?”

  “I didn’t convince him of anything. He’s a man of the cloth. I assure you, he can see more deeply to the truth than you and I. However, I also promised to take him home, so let me walk you to your car now.”

  “Okay, but my keys are in my jeans in the club.”

  He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out two keys. As he dangled them in front of me, I looked at him suspiciously. “You have a key to my car?”

  “Cara, I have the key to your car and your apartment. I have the key to many things.”

  Deciding I really didn’t want to try to figure out that cryptic statement, I sighed and took the keys. We started moving toward my car when it occurred to me I had no idea how he’d even known I’d been at the bar. “What are you doing here, Slash? Were you following me?”

  “I needed to talk with you. We think you know where Darren Greening is.”

  I shook my head. “Sorry. I’d help you if I could. But proprietary information and all.”

  “I know, cara. I just wanted to remind you that we’re on the same side, si?”

  “Okay.” We reached my car. “And, Slash, thank you. I mean it.”

  To my surprise, he abruptly reached over, unzipped his jacket and pulled it open. I started to shrug out of it, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. Instead, he gave me such a long and thorough perusal I thought I would die of embarrassment.

  “Did you get a bikini wax?”

  I had thought I couldn’t be any more embarrassed this night, but I was wrong. Did the entire world have to know all my freaking secrets?

  Before I could say anything, he zipped the jacket back up.

  “Keep it. I’ll collect it later.”

  Without another word, I climbed into my car, removed the offensive heels and drove home. I staggered into my apartment, so beyond exhausted that I didn’t even bother to brush my teeth. Instead, I fell fast asleep, face-first, on top of the covers still wearing the lipstick, my purple bra and a pair of barely-there panties.

  Chapter 12

  I woke in a panic when I heard the incessant knocking on my door. Letting out a shocked gasp, I glanced at the clock and saw it was six-thirty in the morning.

  Shit.

  I’d forgotten to set the alarm and now I was later than late. “Oh, crap.”

  Racing to the door, I threw it open. “Oh, Finn, I’m so sorry.” I reached out and yanked him into the apartment. “I overslept. It will just take me five minutes to get dressed. God, I’m an idiot.”

  I started to run back to the bedroom before turning around and dashing back. “Oh, I almost forgot, happy birthday.”

  That’s when I realized Finn stood staring open-mouthed at me, his eyes about popping out of his head. “Do you always sleep like that?”

  I looked down, realizing I was still dressed in my stripper outfit. “Agggh. No. Never. Holy cow, let me go change.”

  I raced back to the bedroom and stripped off the bra and panties. As I headed into the bathroom, I stopped in surprise. Folded neatly on a chair near the bed was my sweater, T-shirt, jeans and underclothes from last night. My tennis shoes with s
ocks tucked inside were beneath the chair and my keys and driver’s license sat atop my underwear.

  Slash.

  Far more disturbing was the fact that his leather jacket had been picked off the couch in the living room where I’d tossed it and now hung perfectly on the back of the chair where my clothes were folded. That didn’t make any sense to me. If Slash had been here, why didn’t he just take his jacket home?

  Realizing I didn’t have time to ponder the implications of this, I quickly brushed my teeth, washed my face and pulled my hair back in a long straight ponytail. I took a moment to wash my butt and feet of the nacho remnants that had dried on them before dragging on a pair of jeans and a baby-blue blouse. On the way out, I shoved my feet into a pair of old clogs and grabbed my keys, a navy-blue blazer and my purse.

  “I really am sorry, Finn,” I said as we exited the apartment. “I know this is important and I’m not normally so scatterbrained.”

  “Did you do something different to your hair?”

  My cheeks flamed. “Um, sort of. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  Finn looked like he was going to say something, but instead, closed his mouth and put his hand in the small of my back, guiding me toward his Jag.

  During our ride to the airport, Finn asked me again about my connection to Michael Hart. I told him I hadn’t exactly figured it all out yet. Technically, that was true. We then rehashed some of the finer points of the case, but didn’t really come up with anything new. I waited until we got to the airport and through security to buy a bottle of water and take two ibuprofen for my pounding headache. Whatever alcohol I’d consumed had definitely not agreed with me.

  Once on the airplane, Finn amused me by telling me about his evening escapades with Colin. They mostly involved Colin trying to attract the attention of a woman he wanted to meet at a bar, including purposely spilling a drink on her. Their antics were totally tame compared to mine of the previous evening, but there was no way in hell I was about to enlighten him on that. I only prayed Father Mulrooney wouldn’t either.