by Martha Reed
“Head for the bar.” Gee pointed.
Jane shouldered through the sardine can packed crowd. The brick wall on her right towered straight up undisturbed for thirty feet. It housed two hundred evenly spaced alcoves in ten rows with a single, flickering yellowy candle perched inside each one. In the very center of the wall an opaque backlit screen showing the living and moving silhouettes of three people, two women and one man, kneeling on a head-boarded bed and strenuously fucking.
Jane flashed red-hot as her mind processed what she was actually seeing and she turned away appalled. The music’s techno beat was so poundingly loud she couldn’t hear herself think. Twisting her head aside, she tried to spare her eardrums, but the heavy beat pounded her skull no matter which way she turned. The thrumming bass beat rattled the fillings in her teeth. It tickled her vagina.
“Still watching carbs?”
“What?” Jane screamed.
Gee placed her mouth next to Jane’s ear. “Drink? What d’you want to drink?”
“Beer. Lite beer. Anything light.”
Gee flicked two fingers. A bartender caught her gesture and trotted over. She was wearing a skimpy black lace bra with silk tasseled nipples and a red bow tie. Leaning over the counter, she displayed her ample foot-long cleavage and matching dragonfly tattoos.
“Gee? What’ll you have tonight?”
“Keesha, one Mick Ultra, one house pinot gris. I’m running a tab.”
“Coming up.” Keesha grabbed a jug of wine and filled a stemmed glass. Reaching into a cooler, she twisted the cap off a bottle. “Y’all want a glass for the beer?”
“No! I’ll take it like that.” Jane answered uneasily, berating herself for wondering where Keesha’s fingers had been. “Bottle’s fine.”
Gee turned her back to the bar, enjoying a healthy sip of her wine as a secretive smile plied her lips. “So, Jane? What d’you think?”
“This is insane.” Jane swallowed a mouthful of icy beer. The brew left her breathless and it made her choke. Gee pounded her back as she coughed her air pipe clear. “Damn, that’s good! Been weeks since I’ve tasted a beer.”
“Hey, girl.” A lovely young man sauntered over, studying Gee from under his exceptionally full eyelashes. “How you been?”
“Hey, Jeffrey.” Gee saluted him with her wine glass before she frowned. “Been a rough couple of weeks.”
“So I heard.” Fingering his lower lip, his eyes softened with sympathy. “Sorry to hear ‘bout them bad things happening to your friends.”
“Thanks. This is Jane.”
“Hey, Jane.” He drawled. Jeffrey’s skin was as flawless as a bar of creamy milk chocolate. “Gigi? I heard we got a serial killer in NOLA. That right?”
“That’s because of what happened to Fancy and Dee. The FBI asked us a bunch of questions.”
“It’s true?” Jeffrey’s jaw fell open. “I thought it was fake news. What did them FBI fellas say?”
“Said we need to be careful. Keep our eyes open.” Gee stared into the crowd. “Or maybe he’s just after me.”
“You?” Jeffrey’s eyes widened even more. “What do you mean maybe he’s after you?”
“I found some things left in my car.” Gee shuddered. “The FBI thinks I might be his focus.”
“Well then excuse me, sugar. I’m not standing here. I will see you later.”
“Jeffrey, wait. Have you heard anything about Fancy or Dee on the street?”
He danced nervously in place. “A little, maybe, but it’s strange.” He extended his phone. “The topic is totally buzz, girlfriend, but everyone only wants to text it.” He glanced over his shoulder. “No one wants to mention the killings out loud like it might jinx them into being the next victim or something.”
Herd mentality. More superstition. Jane shivered. Let the lightning strike the next guy and spare me.
“It’s bizarre.” Jeffrey toyed with his lower lip. “Because you know how this crowd usually loves drama and Instagram. It’s all we live for, really. Everyone’s playing it safe.”
The blue screen on his phone suddenly lit his face. Jeffrey glanced at the number. “I need to get this.” Raising the phone, he tucked it against his ear, strolling toward the bathrooms. “Yes, Mom. It’s me. Who else would it be? You called my number. What are you still doing up?”
“Jane?” Gee suddenly sputtered. She clutched Jane’s elbow. “Am I seeing things? What’s he doing here?”
Chapter Fifty
Gee tipped her wine glass toward a section of roped-off tables directly under the wall of shame. Jane turned. Seeing them, FBI Special Agent Winston Carter crossed his legs at the knees as he raised his lowball glass in a toast.
“Carter? What are you doing?” Jane strode toward the cordoned off section of banquettes. He’s blowing his cover.
“Hiding in plain sight. Call me Win.” He coolly signaled club security. “It’s okay. Let them in. They’re with me.”
Gee slipped around the red velvet rope as lithely as a sea otter in a kelp bed. “Where’s Mayas?”
“Bathroom.” Carter gestured toward a darkened hallway to the left of the bar. “Be right back. Care to join us?”
“You bet! Move over. This is sick.” Sitting primly, Gee pinched the wine stem between her fingers and her thumb, obviously admiring the fabulous new vantage point in her favorite club. “I’ve never been allowed in the VIP section before. Fancy will be so jealous - ” She choked. “Would’ve been. She would’ve been.” She stared blindly at the floor. “This sucks. I hate that I get to do this now when Fancy’s not here to enjoy it with me.” Her shoulders hunched to her ears. “Or Dee.”
“I know, Gee.” Jane commiserated, struggling to keep from following her empathy down the rabbit hole. Her immediate instinct was to reach out and comfort her friend, but she knew that would distract her from their mission and the task at hand. Her police training offered her the emotional buffer she needed to retain critical arms-length distance and dispassionate perspective, but Jane suddenly feared that made her appear heartlessly cold. She felt the conflict keenly. It was a losing proposition either way. Out of habit, she opted for the mission. “Carter? If you’re in here where’s the response team?”
“You mean besides Mayas and me?” His eyes crinkled attractively as he tapped his ear. “SSG is listening. They’re saying it’s tough filtering our voices over the music.” He laughed. “They want to know why you keep challenging my decisions.”
Cutting her eyes, Jane scanned the club. Nothing looked obvious or out of place.
“Relax.” Carter refreshed his drink from the private vodka bottle. “They’re outside. In a Delta Electric emergency service van.”
“That’s actually pretty good cover,” Jane admitted.
“Thank you.” He proudly flicked his chest. “It was my idea.”
She flinched as she felt a presence hovering at her shoulder and looked up.
“How are you two ladies this evening?” Mayas folded his hands.
Cesar was dressed more casually than Carter in a buttoned-down collared shirt with belted trousers. He had trimmed his mustache and his sideburns were razor-clipped to a smooth black shadow that ran along his jawline. He wore square cut high caret diamond studs in both ears and it worked. Critically studying Jane’s skimpy outfit, he judgmentally raised one eyebrow.
“We’re fine.” Gee straightened. “Surprised to see you here but delighted.”
There was a heartbeat’s pause in the overwhelming sound as the DJ cut in on her mic. “Time to get sexy, people. Let’s change it up.” Spinning a vinyl record between her fingertips, she switched to an up-tempo salsa beat song with plenty of brassy trumpet. “Okay, animals. Show me your moves.” Lowering her voice, she growled. “How ‘bout some Miami heat?”
Mayas looked surprised. Glancing at the dance floor, he quickly looked back at their table. “Care to dance?”
Jane blinked. Mayas likes salsa? She felt sideswiped by this fresh insight into the normally r
eticent special agent she had known for five years. “You dance salsa?”
“And merengue.” He extended his hand. “Sorry. I was asking Ms. Pascoe.”
Gee’s mouth fell open. “I’d love to.” Plunking her wine stem down so quickly that the cheap glass rang off the tabletop, she repeatedly poked her finger into Jane’s hip. “Move over, Jane. Move. Get out of the way. I need to get up.”
Scrambling to her feet, she slipped out of her denim jacket and tossed it aside. Grasping Mayas’ hand, she followed him toward the dance crowd silently mouthing ‘OMG’ over her shoulder. Reaching back blindly, Jane felt for her seat.
“He’s got some depth, that one,” Carter stated. “The more time I spend with Mayas the better I like him.” He rattled his ice cubes. “I hope he accepts permanent NOLA reassignment.”
“So does Gee,” Jane blurted as she sat.
“Really?” Carter looked startled. “That’s fresh news.”
“Don’t tell Mayas I said that.” She quickly shifted the topic to cover her intel slip. “What happened to the anonymous cover idea we discussed yesterday?”
“We gave it more thought after you left the station.” Carter pointed his finger at the densely packed room. “No one in this club knows who we are. If we see anyone we’ve already interviewed that drops the suspicion on them. Anyone new watching us would think it’s just another easy Saturday night pickup.”
Jane glowed at the burn. Is that what Carter really thinks of me?
He shifted uneasily. Leaning forward, he poured another healthy two fingers of vodka into his glass. “Wasn’t that our plan? Just another normal night at Club Femme du with everyone looking for love?” Noting Jane’s beer bottle, he tapped his glass against the stainless-steel ice bucket. “Want some vodka? We’ve got a full setup. I mix a nice martini.”
“No, thanks. Beer’s fine.”
“Vodka’s low carb.” He smiled winningly. “It’ll help you relax. You look tense.”
“I said I’m good.”
“Okay. I asked.” He shrugged, easing back and stretching his arms out along the banquette. “See anyone you recognize?”
“Only you and Mayas.” Jane rescanned the tumultuous crowd. “But this club’s full of Gee’s friends. They all know each other. They’re part of the same community. It’s tight.”
“Makes sense. This club is ground zero for NOLA’s LGBTQ.”
The dynamic salsa beat ratcheted up even louder. Cocking his ear against it, Carter leaned closer. His shirt popped open at the neck and Jane felt his body heat radiating off his chest. She smelled his bold citrusy cologne and she felt an unexpected and delightful tingling between her thighs. Snatching up her beer, she killed it quickly, pointing the empty bottle at the crowd. “Haven’t registered anything odd or strange except for, you know, the obvious.”
“True.” Carter laughed easily. “There’s certainly a lot of ‘free to be me’ in the house tonight.”
Get a grip, girlfriend. Jane’s pulse kept fluttering erratically as she pulled back from the abyss. Remember rule number seven: Keep Your Distance, Keep It Real. Playing for recovery time, she turned to watch Gee and Mayas dancing. The dance floor crowd had opened up a tiny bit to give them room. Mayas looked as focused and intent as a professional gymnast as he gripped Gee’s hand and her hip, spinning her on her toes while holding his elbows high. Gee looks ecstatic. I’ve never seen her looking so happy. Is that what love looks like? Jane fell back, amazed. And I barely recognize Mayas. Who knew? Just goes to show you really don’t know people until you see them in action.
“Be careful tonight.” Carter studied the riotous scene. “It’s a dense crowd. Limited visual always makes me nervous.”
“Roger that,” Jane admitted. Studying his strong profile, she nervously fingered her spaghetti straps to make sure they were straight and that the FBI wire was secure. Is this all we have between us, Carter and me? Strictly business? Releasing her breath through pursed lips, she checked her desires. Okay. Let’s be honest. What do I want? Do I want this thing with Carter to be a real thing or not? What if he’s not attracted to me?
She nervously smoothed her skirt as the salsa song ended, looking up from her lap as the snappy rhythm transitioned to the finger-popping disco beat of Alex Newell’s Kill The Lights. Out on the dance floor, Mayas paused. Holding Gee at arm’s length, he obviously asked her a question. Raising both hands palm side up, Gee laughed and playfully shook her head. Jane gasped as her heart twisted like a wet sponge and she felt an ugly prickle of envy as Mayas cradled Gee’s boyish waist with his arm as he escorted her back to the table. That’s not fair. Cesar was my friend first!
Gee danced loose hipped through the crowd, her rosy face slick with sweat. Reaching down, she tugged Jane’s hand. “Jane, come with me. I need to pee.”
She scowled. “You need me to go to the men’s room with you?”
“Don’t do that.” Gee laughed happily, pulling Jane to her feet. “Femme du is non-binary, you idiot. It’s just a pissoir.”
“OMG.” She continued to chatter as they wove a path through the massed block of drinkers stacked three-deep at the bar. “I think Mayas likes me, really likes me. Can you believe my luck?” She joined the lengthy bathroom queue lined up against the wall. “He said next time we go dancing I should wear a red dress.” She pressed the back of her hands to her overheated face. “I’m not making this up! I swear to God he said, ‘next time.’ Pinch me. I feel like I’m dreaming. What am I going to do?”
Jane’s tongue curled with aspirin bitterness. It’s not fair. I want to feel that happy. When is it my turn? She bit back her snarky retort. What’s wrong with me? I should be feeling happy for Gee, not jealous. She studied her blasted shipwrecked soul and swallowed away the thick taste. Something decent in me got broken. Whatever that was, I need to fix it again, pronto. She reached for the right answer. “We’ll need to go shopping and find that dress. I’ve never known Mayas to say something he didn’t mean.”
“Seriously?” Gee bit her lip. She looked so innocent, so goddamn hopeful and expectant that Jane flushed. “Jane?” She squinted. “You okay?”
“No.” Bracing herself, Jane dug for honesty. “I’m not, Gee. I think I’m jealous.”
“Of me?” Gee’s face blossomed like a rose. Laughing, she flipped her right hand palm side up. “You have everything I want including a pussy and great hair and you’re jealous of me?” The bathroom line swayed. Gee stepped forward, looking perplexed. “Did you want Mayas, Jane? Is that it? Why didn’t you say so?”
“I don’t want him like that,” Jane replied quickly, “but I do want to keep him as a friend.”
“Why would that change because of me?” Gee settled her stance. “Wait a minute. I know what this is. This isn’t jealousy; this is commitment. You’re stuck between having a relationship with Mayas and making the commitment to do it.” She painfully prodded Jane’s arm. “Why are you so afraid of that idea?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” Jane blustered.
“The hell you are! You’re terrified about making commitments. I’ve noticed that about you, before. So did Dee. That’s why we tested you by giving you Piddles. Figured he might help you crawl out of your shell, force you to get outside, meet new people, make new friends. If nothing else, he got you out of your chair twice a day.” She cocked her head. “Stop dicking around. If you’re not interested in Mayas, okay, then how about Carter?”
“What about Carter?” Jane sputtered.
“Girl? You blind? He’s a sexy beast. Go after him.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Why the fuck not? Because he’s black?”
“I already said that doesn’t matter!”
“Then why?”
“Because.” Jane hissed. “Because it fucking hurts. Getting close to people fucking hurts. You get too close and then they leave you or they fucking die. If I’m going to live my life alone, okay then, fuck it.” Jane turned away. “I’m fine with th
at. Leave me alone.”
Ducking her head, Gee studied Jane’s face. “You can’t live that way, girlfriend. Can’t live all shut up like that. That’s zombie land.” Releasing her painful grip, she stepped back. “As much as life hurts, you gotta fight back. I don’t know much, but I do know that -”
The bathroom queue opened up again. Jane quickly counted the number of people standing in the line and came up with thirteen. Lucy was uncomfortably pressing on her bladder. “I’ll think about it.”
“Even if Carter’s not the right one for you,” Gee persisted, “he might lead you to the one who is. I’m going to keep on you about this as a friend.” Gee shared some serious side eye. “Did Carter say anything about me and Mayas while we were dancing?”
“No.” Jane lied, growing even more uncomfortable as she remembered her careless slip of the lip. “But he’s been all business.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Gee shoved her playfully. “You need to act friendlier with him. Carter’s a stand-up guy, but he’s still a guy. Men are fucking clueless. It’s unbelievable. You need to encourage him, show him you’re interested. Trust me. Carter’s a player. Give him a lead. He’ll take it from there.”
Maybe Gee’s right? Did I create my own problem? Is that why I feel so goddamn dissatisfied with my life? Because I built the cage I’m trapped in and then I locked the door from the inside and tossed the key?
“Dude! Quit shoving.” A man’s voice in line up ahead complained.
The emergency exit door flashed open into the alley. The bathroom crowd howled in outrage as the blindingly bright halogen lights kicked on, illuminating the hallway. Jane’s pupils shrank to pin dots and she clapped both hands over her eyes as a hammering alarm pierced her eardrums.
“Fire!” A woman shrilly screamed. Her voice rose to shrieking horror. “Fire!”
The static bathroom line collapsed into a shoving shouting melee as people scrambled for the exit. Jane flattened against the wall as the ghastly images of the recent Ghost Ship dance club flashed through her mind. That Oakland fire killed 36 people. She fought to stay calm. Panic is fatal. Why don’t I smell smoke?