by Kim Harrison
“I insist,” she said. “My name is Felicity. My employer is hosting a holiday party at Gateways tonight. That’s where we’re going . . . dressed like this.”
Cooper nodded, his pulse quickening. He was cautious, but he wasn’t dead. Gateways was one of the most exclusive dance clubs in the tristate area, having opened six years ago. And, judging by the number of times it made the front page, it had been a problem to the local cops since that time. He’d never been in there.
“He’s got the entire place rented out. Arranged for a band. If I don’t bring a man with me, I’m going to be fending off drunk coworkers all night,” the woman said, dropping her elbows on the counter and cupping her chin in her hands, her green eyes daring him. “You’d be doing me a favor.”
Her blouse was falling open, and with a herculean effort, he didn’t look—much. But the rest of her bent over the counter like that was even sexier, and Cooper struggled to keep his thoughts on what she was saying. He wanted to go, but he hesitated. She was smart, beautiful, and she didn’t care that he worked at a pet shop. What’s wrong with this picture, Cooper?
“Emily will be there,” she coaxed as she stood, and Cooper began to breathe again. “It’s family oriented. We’d love to have you join us.”
Cooper thought of his microwave dinner waiting for him at his two-room apartment. Frozen meals, sitcoms, and reality TV were dragging him down, killing his ambition. I’m an ass if I let this slip away. Go get yourself a story to tell!
“Okay, you convinced me.”
The woman clapped once as her red hair flew everywhere and her black boots tapped on the old oak flooring. “The band starts at ten,” she said, and Cooper was struck by how much her alive and excited eyes looked like her daughter’s when she had held the kitten. “Why don’t you come early so we can talk before it gets noisy?”
“Nine thirty,” Cooper affirmed, and she smiled, extending her hands for the kitten.
“Wonderful! Emily is so perceptive. How much for the cat?”
“You’re going to get it for her?” Cooper asked as he handed the squirming thing over.
“Absolutely!” Felicity snuggled the animal under her chin and smiled as whiskers tickled her neck. “I can’t have her trying to trade Leonard again!”
Cooper raised his hand against her credit card, brought out from the same pocket the bat was still in. “No charge,” he said, thinking of the germs that might be attached despite the woman’s assurance that it was a pet. “We don’t actually sell the cats, but we do ask that you make a donation to the Humane Society.”
Felicity smiled as if confused and tucked her card away. “See you at nine thirty, Cooper. Tell them you’re with me, and they’ll let you in. Felicity. Remember it.”
“I will,” he said, then hesitated. “How did you know my name?”
“Emily told me,” she said, eyes glinting. “I told you, she’s been watching the store for months.” And then she turned, steps clacking as she walked out the door with the kitten in hand.
Cooper watched appreciatively, thinking that he had the right seeing as they were going on a date. The bells didn’t jingle for her either, and his smile fading, he followed her to turn the Open sign around. Bemused, he shook his head, thinking about how the rest of his evening might go if he played his hand right. “If nothing else, I’m finally going to see the inside of that place,” he said to the remaining kittens, and they curled up in an uncaring little gray ball.
Smiling at the reminder of how good she looked, Cooper paused in his reach for the old-style, iron bolt as a familiar figure came running to the door, her shuffling gait looking almost pained. It was Kay, and standing sideways, he pushed the heavy door open for his boss as the sleek black car with Felicity and Emily in it pulled away.
“Oh God. It’s cold tonight!” Kay exclaimed, coming in with a gust of snow. “I think I just froze my tail off!”
“Tell me about it,” he said as she stomped her feet and brushed the snow off her short leather coat. “Where have you been? You’re late. Uh, not that you can’t be,” he said as he threw the bolt.
Her expected laugh didn’t come. Nose wrinkled, she looked over the store, slowly taking off her snug knit hat to reveal blond hair cut just below her ears. It framed her round face to give her a sweet look with her turned-up nose and blue eyes. “You sold the Lab?”
Cooper nodded, feeling tall beside her as he always did. He couldn’t help but compare her to Felicity; the woman’s long legs, pale skin, and obvious interest stood in stark contrast to Kay’s petite stature, tan complexion, and companionable distance. Why had he wasted his time trying to get to know Kay when she so clearly wasn’t interested? “Ah, a few minutes ago,” he said when she turned to him, blue eyes questioning at his lack of an answer. “Nice man with a kid.”
Silent, she looked him over, her small hands unwinding her long scarf. Nodding, Kay strode to the back trailing clumps of snow. “Can you come in early tomorrow?” she asked as she vanished behind the plastic curtain. “I’ve got a new litter I’ve been wanting to bring in, and you’re so good with the paperwork.”
More dogs? “Christmas is in four days!” he shouted so she’d hear.
“Yeah. I know!” she shouted back. Boot heels clacking, she strode back into the store, coat on but open, her nose still wrinkled and a disgusted look on her pretty face. “What is that smell? Did something die?”
In a pet shop? Probably. Cooper headed for the dog kennel. “I took the papers out already.”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, hunting with her nose and pausing when she got to the cats. “You sold a cat, too?”
“Little black one, right after the dog. Weirdest thing—” he started, his words trailing off. Christ almighty, he couldn’t tell her he gave it to a woman who had a bat. Kay would have a fit.
Kay’s eyes narrowed. “Really? What did he look like?”
“She,” Cooper said reluctantly, flushing as he remembered Felicity bending over the counter. “A little girl and her mom. Hey, I’ve got a date tonight. Would you mind if I did my close-out list in the morning? I should splash on some cologne or something.” And shave, he thought as he touched his jaw.
Focus distant, Kay drifted to the register. “Take a bath. You smell funny.”
“Gee, thanks, Kay.”
“Anyone I know?” she asked, head down as she opened her breeder file.
“I doubt it. She looked like she was from the university.” Distracted now, he vowed to ask Felicity tonight if only to prove he was interested in more than how she looked.
“I need you here tomorrow at eight, okay?” Kay said, hand on a folder as she looked out into the night like it meant something. “Where are you going?”
Cooper leaned over the counter for his coat, suddenly feeling as if the cotton fabric wasn’t good enough. Gateways was totally out of his league. “Golly, Mom. It’s just a date.”
That brought a smile to her, but it faded fast. “Cooper . . .” she said, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Cooper stopped, surprised, and her hand dropped, her fingers closing into a little fist. Biting her lip, she looked up at him with her big blue eyes. The woman never seemed to lose her tan, even in the dead of winter. “You said your grandmother used to tell you stories. Fairy tales.”
His arms halfway into his coat, Cooper stared at her. “You mean like crossing yourself when you see a ring around the full moon, never eat food left out because the fairies might have claimed it, or that you can see lost souls on Halloween when you look between the ears of a barking dog? Yeah. She was a weird old bird. She taught me how to play poker, too.”
Not giving him the expected laugh, Kay took a breath. “Be careful tonight. It’s slippery out there.”
“You got it. Thanks, Kay. Have a good night.”
“Godspeed, Cooper.”
The bells jingled brightly as he went out, the snick of the lock behind him sounding as cold as the air now burning his lungs. Striding quickly to his beat-u
p Volvo, he mentally went through his closet, hoping he had something that wouldn’t make him look like a total loser. Shower, shave, and some cologne to get rid of the dog smell. Tonight would be a date to remember.
TWO
The hint of warmth from his car vanished as Cooper’s door thumped shut and his shoes squeaked on the snow. His face scrunched up and the cold pinched his newly shaven face as he looked over the full lot to the tall, somewhat ornate building with its theater marquee and unused ticket booth. In its beginnings, Gateways had been a burlesque theater sandwiched between a brothel and slaughterhouses until a fire in the late ’50s burned down the entire block but for the theater. Housing remained several blocks away, but new fire codes and NIMBY neighbors had kept almost everything else out, chain-link fences and decades-long litigation over who owned the surrounding property making it a lonely place when the sun was up.
Squinting, Cooper sniffed, a hint of excitement quickening his pace as he wove through the cars. There was already a line at the door. He was going to be pissed if this was a joke.
Hands in his pockets, he walked with his head down, hunched and uncomfortable in his dress shoes that didn’t do a thing to stop the cold. His ears were frozen since he hadn’t wanted to put on a hat and risk putting a wave into his hair, still damp from his shower. He’d changed into slacks and a shirt and tie, but he knew he wasn’t going to look like anything other than a poor grad student. “Which is what I am,” he muttered, his head coming up as he settled in behind the laughing, excited pair who had run to get to the door ahead of him.
The doorman didn’t look cold at all, standing with a short leather jacket covering his thin dancer’s body. Expression bland, he checked his clipboard against the name the two people had given him, then pointed to the line snaking from the door where people dressed nicer than he stood and shuffled for warmth.
Crestfallen, they moved to the end of the line, and Cooper stepped forward, worried. The music was thumping already; he was late, but he’d wanted to shower and shave. What had he been thinking? The doorman hadn’t let them in. This was going to be a disaster.
“Name?” the man asked, bored.
Cooper glanced at the beautiful people in line. “Uh, I’m Cooper. Felicity invited me.”
Like magic, the man’s almost too-pretty mouth curved up in a smile, and he stepped aside, not even looking at his clipboard. “She will be delighted. Welcome to Gateways.”
The people huddled in line groaned, and Cooper’s jaw dropped, even as the man pulled open the door for him. “Go right on in.”
With an unexpected feeling of importance, Cooper brushed by him, having to get closer than he liked. The music thumped, and the sound of laughter drew him in. An obvious sniff from the man turned him around as the door began to shut, and he saw the doorman wrinkling his nose right before the heavy oak slab shut out the night.
Eyes on the moving people on the dance floor, Cooper stood to the side to take off his coat and hand it to the small woman reaching for it, slipping his bulky car keys and cell phone into his jeans pocket at the last moment. Starting to smile, he looked over the spacious, noisy room still holding on to the faded grace of another time. Red velvet on the walls tried to soak up the noise, failing. What looked like the original chandeliers still hung, the crystal catching the darting lights to send flashes everywhere, but the sloping floor one would expect in a theater had been leveled off, bringing the ceiling down somewhat. Before him, the large stage was full of movement as three men pounded out a heavy beat with bobbing heads. A good three feet below it was the dance floor, thick with gyrating bodies and waving arms. Apparently Felicity worked with party animals. Around the edges were tall tables where people stood, laughing and talking in excitement. Closer to the door, there were more private booths with black leather and paintings that were almost more frame than picture. The bar was a gigantic wood and glass edifice that took up one entire side. There had to be at least five bartenders, all moving with a quick, certain efficiency. Everyone was dressed better than he was.
Except them, he thought, finding two men his age standing before it, clearly working out their chances of going home with the striking woman they were talking with. They weren’t alone. The entire length of the bar were clusters of two or three average people being wined and dined by red-haired beauties of both sexes.
The warmth of the place was stealing into him, and the scent of wine and . . . frosting? Head starting to move to the beat, Cooper looked closer, his smile fading as he noticed a clear division between the haves in leather and expensive-looking jewelry, and then the have-nots, dressed like him in shoes that hurt and knockoffs. Maybe not have-nots, he decided as he dove into the mass and headed for the extravagant bar, but people trying to make it in a class a couple of rungs higher than they could easily afford. There were beautiful people here—Hollywood beautiful—and it made everyone else look common.
Beginning to feel unsure, Cooper looked from the band rocking on the stage to the dance floor and the weird mix of mosh pit jumping and . . . clogging? Frowning, he scanned for Felicity. He’d say hi, then leave. This had all the earmarks of a recruit drive for a pyramid cleaning-supply scheme. And what was with all the red hair?
“Hors d’oeuvre?” a soft voice breathed beside his ear, and Cooper spun. Two steps back, a smiling woman in a short skirt and a pageboy haircut raised a tray of white petits fours in invitation.
That explained the sweet smell of frosting, he mused, his wish for a beer vanishing upon seeing the little square cakes on the white napkins. “Thanks,” he said, trying not to be obvious as he looked the woman over in her skintight uniform.
“Have two. You’re a big one,” she said, and Cooper’s eyes shot to hers, wondering if she was coming on to him. He hesitated, and in that instant, he was jostled, his reach overshooting and almost hitting the woman in her chest.
“Cooper!” Felicity called breathlessly, laughing as she caught her balance against him, and he wondered if she was drunk. “I thought you’d stood me up, you lovely man.” Before he could think to answer, she linked her arm in his possessively, her free hand coyly playing with a long silver chain about her neck. “Amber, go bother someone else,” she said as she began dragging him away. “Cooper is my invite.”
“Nice to meet you.” Cooper grinned as he looked over his shoulder, but the woman had already turned away, frowning in annoyance.
“You don’t want anything Amber has,” Felicity said as she led him to an empty table, and Cooper’s eyebrows rose at the thinly veiled insinuation. “She sneezes a lot.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Cooper eyed the people eating off little white napkins, twice as hungry now that he’d almost gotten something to eat. “I wanted to clean up.”
“I’m so glad you came.” Felicity stopped at a tall round table with two empty and abandoned drinks on it. “You had me worried.”
“Wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Cooper said as he moved the cups to a passing tray, marveling at them. They were made of wood instead of glass, worked so thin he could see the shadow of his fingers through it. “I didn’t want to come in here smelling like dog,” he said, and then remembering the sniff from the doorman, he tugged at his collar.
“Silly man.” Felicity snuggled up to him, her warmth pressing into his side. “I like the way you smell.” Leaning in, she whispered, “Dogs scare me.”
He was here, and she was here, and it was going great. Cooper tugged her closer, smiling, but then he cocked his head. “What did you do to your hair? It looks different.”
Felicity touched the tips playfully. “It must be the light. Do you want to sit down?”
What he wanted was a drink, but no one with a tray of those wooden champagne flutes was anywhere near them. “Your hair looks darker in this light. Your eyes, too.”
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, explaining nothing. “But now that you’re here, I’m all yours, Cooper.”
Her smile dove to the bottom of
his gut and set his thoughts wandering. Confidence seemed to flow into him with her beside him, and he leaned back against the table with Felicity, his worries that it had been a joke gone. She looked fabulous in her calf-length, shiny dress that clung to her like Saran wrap. That she was jealous of the waitress had made him feel good, and the thumping music had him wanting to get out there and move. He should’ve given up on Kay a long time ago.
“Come on, I want to see how you dance,” Felicity coaxed, eyes sparkling as her hands took his and she stepped to the dance floor, backing up right into a dignified man in a suit. He had appeared as if from nowhere, and she spun, hand to her mouth and charmingly surprised.
“Papa!” she exclaimed, and Cooper spied Emily beside the man, the new kitten in her arms making her look sweeter than the petits fours.
“Hi, Mama,” the little girl said, swinging to and fro to make her dress swirl. The older man, however, wasn’t happy, one hand holding Emily’s, the other gripping a wooden flute of champagne, his rings sparkling in the reflected light.
“Your dad?” Cooper whispered even as he tried to look more respectable under the man’s hawklike stare.
Felicity grimaced. “It’s a family-owned business,” she said, leaning in to make him shiver as she whispered it in his ear.
That explains all the redheads, he thought, though the man before him had jet-black hair.
Looking even more severe, the older man gave Emily a gentle push. “Take your kitten to the back rooms, Emily,” he said, his voice deeper than his narrow shoulders would suggest. “There’s a good girl. And share her with your brother.”
Cooper flicked his gaze from Emily to Felicity. “I didn’t know you had another child,” he said conversationally, hoping Felicity would introduce him before he had to do it himself.
“Grandpa,” Emily whined, and the man gave her a harder shove to the stairs. Cooper’s smile vanished as the little girl caught her balance with a skipping of shiny black shoes, and Felicity grabbed her arm, tugging her to stand behind her instead.