by Jade Astor
For some reason, Geordie believed it. The guy didn’t look especially athletic, and there was only so much derring-do one could accomplish in a tailored suit. On the other hand, he had a tone of authority and a menacing body language that suggested he told no lies.
Just the same, Geordie didn’t like being pushed around. Backing off could be a useful strategy in some cases, but he didn’t judge now to be one of them. Something told him this guy wouldn’t respect that.
“Tough guy, are you? You the head bouncer at this joint or something?”
The guy smiled. His thin lips looked different when they curved upward. Fuller. Sexier, for sure. “Or something. You may call me Cedric.”
Weird name—fake, maybe. Geordie didn’t offer his own. “What is this place? A private club for guys with…you know…specialized tastes?” He stole a glance over the tall guy’s shoulder at the three stories of bricked-over windows. Something strange going on in there. No sunlight, for sure. Were they storing something sensitive to light? Or doing something they didn’t anyone—cops, for example—to catch a glimpse of?
“You could say that. But it isn’t really any of your concern, is it? I assure you there is nothing illegal going on at these premises.”
“I never said there was.” Geordie decided to try a different approach. “What if I told you I was interested in becoming a member?”
Cedric’s sleek, dark-gold brows rose. “Are you really? Might I ask why?”
“Well…I’ve heard about it. Wanted to check it out for myself. I don’t suppose you have guest passes or something for one night?”
“Alas, no.” Cedric offered a theatrically exaggerated sad face. “Our regulars wouldn’t approve of that. And I don’t think you’d like it, either, truth be told.”
“How do you know that? You know nothing about me.”
“True. And under different circumstances, I would venture to say that I’d like to know more. Alas, this isn’t the right time and it certainly isn’t the right place. Go now, or I’m afraid I will have to summon the establishment’s security force. They’re quite efficient at their jobs. You wouldn’t like them, either, I’m afraid.”
“I still don’t see why I can’t get a one-night pass. I’m willing to pay, you know.” Geordie hoped the guy would name some exorbitant fee, because whatever it was, Pennington would pay it the next night. He looked forward to seeing Cedric’s face when he ponied up the cash.
“Because we don’t offer them.” Cedric’s friendliness vanished abruptly. “Go now.”
Leaning close again, Cedric placed both hands on Geordie’s arms this time and angled his head so that his face hovered only inches above Geordie’s. For a moment Geordie thought Cedric might kiss him—not that a kiss would have been unwelcome, he had to admit.
Cedric didn’t kiss, though. Instead, those impossibly intense blue-black eyes caught his and held them until Geordie felt a strange dragging sensation inside his head…almost as though Cedric’s gaze was pulling his consciousness out of his head. Soon he felt like he was floating, with endless darkness massaging him as he slithered naked over a sheet of black velvet. Softness caressed his skin from all sides. All he wanted to do was drift off into the complete pleasure that enveloped him and sleep. Maybe he did sleep. He was vaguely aware of his eyelids sliding shut.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in the middle of a completely different street and his head was throbbing. What the hell? He wasn’t even sure where he was, though the street didn’t look dangerous—it seemed to be just a run-of-the-mill residential area with Victorian houses that had been split up into median-income apartments. No one stirred and no cars drove past. A plump white cat eyed him suspiciously as a few stray pieces of newspaper blew across the sidewalk.
No matter how he wracked his brain, Geordie couldn’t figure out how he’d got here. He must have walked here. But how had he managed to forget it? He could have sworn no more than a few minutes had passed. Yet when he checked the time on his smartphone, he was stunned to see that almost four hours had passed since Aaron had entered the strange building. The photos he’d taken had been erased along with his short-term memory.
Had the blond guy drugged him? He didn’t see how. He hadn’t felt a needle and he sure hadn’t drunk or eaten anything. Unless he’d forgotten all that too. Hypnosis? Geordie wasn’t convinced that even existed. It was for stage shows. Power of suggestion. Streetwise PIs didn’t fall for party tricks like that.
By now, Aaron would be back at Pennington’s place now, possibly making up a tale about his night class to maintain the illusion that’s where he’d been. So Pennington’s suspicions had been right on the money, after all. Aaron was meeting someone at the club—if not more than one guy. Was it Cedric? Geordie hoped not—he had plans for finding out more about him, too. He was kind of hoping he could keep that separate from the work he was doing for Pennington.
One thing became clear to him, even if most of the events of that night were lost in a haze.
He had to get into that club.
The next day, Geordie headed out of his apartment around midday and retraced both Aaron’s footpath and subway trip until he managed to find Cedric’s club again. Before leaving home, he’d shuffled through the file he kept full of business cards relating to various professions—import/export agent, air conditioning and heating specialist, interior decorator, and others. They were all real enough—he made it a habit to pick them up from glass bowls and holders whenever he visited shops or chambers of commerce, knowing how handy they could be in situations like this. He stayed away from cards for legal or medical services—too easy to bring the law down on himself that way. He didn’t think there were any laws preventing him from claiming to be a feng shui consultant or a party planner, especially since most of the people he trailed would never dream of hiring him anyway.
Today he’d settled on one with the name and contact information for a disc jockey who specialized in weddings and private parties. That seemed perfect. Sliding it to the top of his wallet where he could reach it easily, Geordie headed up to the door where Aaron had entered and began banging.
He expected it would take a while, since most likely only the cleaning crew and management would be around before the place opened for the evening. In a way, he hoped no one answered, since that would make poking around much easier. He figured he could find a way inside—not that he would necessarily want to resort to underhanded means like lock-picking, even if he’d been known to do it on occasion.
To his surprise, the thick metal door gave a squeal of protest and opened a couple of inches. Geordie had to squint, since the darkness inside the building made it difficult to see anything except the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered fellow who was definitely not Cedric.
“Yeah?”
Geordie passed the card bearing the DJ’s name through the crack. “Hey, man, how are you doing? I’m here about a job. I talked to Cedric last night.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. He hadn’t said he was a DJ, he hadn’t used the name on the card, and he hadn’t said Cedric had actually offered the job. But most people, especially the grunts who worked the doors at underground nightclubs, unlike defense lawyers, weren’t swift enough to pick up on semantics like that.
The guy took the card and glanced at it. Geordie figured the poor lighting would make it hard to read—all the better, really.
“Cedric, huh?”
“Yep. We talked last night and he told me to come back today.”
“Today? Okay, hang on a minute.”
The door closed in Geordie’s face before he had a chance to glimpse much of anything inside. Cursing, he leaned against the wall and hoped the guy would come back, though his hopes weren’t high. It would be just his luck if Cedric really were free. No doubt he’d come to the door, stick his head through, and tell Geordie to buzz off. What he really wanted was for the bouncer to return and invite him back to Cedric’s office, assuming he had one. A walk through the empty club
would at least give him an idea what was going on inside. If they really weren’t up to anything illegal, the proprietors shouldn’t object to a potential employee stepping inside for a meeting.
Of course, if no one came back at all—a distinct possibility—he was back to square one.
A few minutes later, to his relief, the door opened again, though not much wider, and the same guy stuck out a muscle strapped arm. It waved him inside.
“This way.”
They walked through a large warehouse-style space. The only light came from a yellow safety bulb that burned above what was presumably a fire escape door. Thanks to the gloom, Geordie couldn’t see much except a bar in the corner, a big-screen TV that was turned off, and what looked like a dais or small stage at the far end of the room. Was that where Aaron performed on a stripper pole? Geordie couldn’t see a guy his age joining a secret private club unless earning money by flashing his best assets was an integral part of it.
He was so busy squinting at the room around him that he ran into the corner of a table and grunted. The bouncer chortled a little.
“Be careful, dude. Don’t want you getting hurt.”
Something about the way he said it, like it was some kind of in-joke, made Geordie nervous. He rubbed his bruised thigh and kept walking. “I’m fine.”
“Glad to hear it.”
They passed into another space. This one was even darker and looked like nothing more than a storeroom, though Geordie couldn’t make much out. He got nervous. Why would he be asked to meet Cedric in a room like this? It was certainly no office.
His heart froze as he made out yet another silhouette—this time belonging to a row of guys who closed in around him, blocking the door he’d just come through. He heard a click as the lock snapped behind him.
“Hey! What the hell is this? Let me out of here!”
“Stay calm. You’ll be okay—for a while, at least.”
Two—or maybe more, he couldn’t tell in the dark—grabbed him by the arms. This time he really did feel the prick of a needle in his shoulder. Were they shooting him up with drugs—lethal ones, maybe? Was that was this place was all about?
He kicked, screamed, and tried to fight them off. Incredibly strong arms help him down. He couldn’t see a thing. Panic urged him on, but ultimately his struggles were to no avail. The drug, whatever it had bee, proved too powerful.
Dizziness rushed over him all at once and he felt his body melt underneath him. The concrete floor caught him in an indifferent embrace.
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on a cot in another darkened room, though this one contained furniture and carpet. He didn’t know why, but he had the sense a lot of time had passed. Was it evening? Why did he keep losing time out of his life like this? One of these days, he half-expected to find that several years had passed since he’d last been conscious.
The door to the room opened and someone stepped into the room. He heard a strain of loud, thumping music from far away. Apparently he was now on one of the floors above the club, which had opened for the evening.
The overhead light came on next, dazzling his eyes. He put his hands in front of his face and moaned.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Geordie. I’m glad to see that you’re none the worse for wear, though you’ve been out a while.”
Cedric himself stood over him. Geordie took his hands from his eyes and realized that he was in a small, narrow records room where various file cabinets and boxes crowded his small cot into a corner. He was fully dressed and his upper arm hurt. He recalled the injection and rubbed at the sore spot where the needle had stuck him.
“You have some nerve, buddy,” he barked at Cedric, sitting up. “Kidnapping, leaving the drugs aside, is illegal if I’m not mistaken.”
“And posing as a DJ isn’t?”
“How do you know I’m not a DJ?”
“Please.” Smirking, Cedric reached into his jacket pocket and held Geordie’s wallet out toward him. Tonight he wore another monochromatic suit—all dove-gray this time. Geordie thought it made him look stunning, a study of silver and gold, with his shimmering hair. “I’m sure whoever issued that P.I. license to you would be interested to hear about your second career—or should we simply call it subterfuge?”
Snarling, Geordie snatched the wallet back and stuffed it into his jeans. He didn’t feel quite steady enough to stand up, though. Whatever that knock-out dug had been, it was powerful stuff. “So I moonlight as a DJ. What of it?”
“I see,” Cedric said. “I must admit, the cops have more finesse when they try to harass me and my business. They’re less entertaining, though, and generally less attractive than you are. Still…why are you here?”
Geordie blinked. Had Cedric just called him attractive after having him drugged and abducted? He sure was full of surprises. Maybe it was easiest just to come out with the truth—he could see lying to Cedric wasn’t going to get him very far. “Okay, here’s the skinny. I was asked—well, hired—to check into the welfare of a guy who comes here. Aaron Johnson. Do you know him?”
Cedric did—Geordie could see it in his face. Yet he only shrugged, the very picture of casual innocence.
“Many people come to Club O-Neg. I don’t know everyone’s name.”
“Club O-Neg? That’s what you call it? You’re smooth, I’ll give you that. Anyway, my anonymous client is worried about him. He thinks you might be taking advantage of Aaron,” he improvised. “I don’t suppose there’s male prostitution going on here? Or something even less savory?”
“Depends how you define such things, I suppose.” Cedric seemed wholly unconcerned. “The people who come here do indulge their addictions, but not for narcotics. They are addicted to certain kinds of fantasies. I let them do so safely. You might say I’m performing a public service—one that keeps the city at large safe.”
“I think I’m getting the picture,” Geordie said. This was some kind of dungeon, maybe. Or sexual role-playing theater. Such places did have a function in society—he had no argument with that, even if they weren’t his personal turn-on. Besides, that wasn’t why he was here. He was only concerned with finding out if Aaron was cheating on Pennington. So far, the odds were looking good in Pennington’s favor. “What about that membership for a night? Let me see for myself. I promise I’m not here to make trouble. No one will even notice me.”
“Sorry. Membership in Club O-Neg is by invitation only. And I’m not inclined to offer it to you.”
“Why not?” Geordie decided to get bolder. He could sense that Cedric was attracted to him. Cedric could probably also tell it was mutual. Why not push things and see how far he could get? He certainly wasn’t opposed to some flirtation outside the scope of his employment, risky though it might be.
“It isn’t a good idea.” Cedric lifted a hand to motion Geordie to his feet. “Come with me. I’ll escort you to the street. Please don’t fight me. It’s for your own good. And please don’t come back, either.”
Geordie stepped toward Cedric. He felt a cold chill coming off that silvery suit—had he been hanging out in front of an AC? The chill seemed to come from deep inside him. Still, that didn’t deter Geordie. He positioned his mouth so close to Cedric’s that he figured Cedric would know it was an invitation to kiss him—or more. “Are you sure about that?”
To his surprise, Cedric grasped him by both shoulders and pushed him away, gently but firmly. “Don’t do that, either, if you value your safety.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Not all. I’m stating a fact.” Cedric’s eyes burned in a strangely unnerving way. When he talked, Geordie imagined he saw the points of fangs jut out from under his upper lip. It didn’t make him want to taste that mouth any less, though. If anything, he wanted Cedric more. Mysteries excited him, as they probably did most P.I.s. He was surprised Cedric hadn’t figured that out. Or was he just playing games to ratchet up their mutual desire? “Now, as I said, come with me. You will find it much easie
r if you simply comply with my wishes.”
“All right. If that’s what you really want.” Shrugging, Geordie pretended to give up and followed Cedric into a narrow hallway, lined with closed doors on both sides. Cedric started ahead, moving toward an exit at the far end of the hall. Geordie supposed it led to an outside fire escape, which would land him right back in the street with no way back into the club.
When they were almost to the exit, Geordie whirled around and bolted back up the hall. He kept on running when he heard Cedric shouting after him.
“Geordie! Get back here! You don’t realize what you’re doing!” Cedric shouted.
Geordie heard Cedric’s feet pounding the floor right behind him as he set off in pursuit.
Chapter 3
Geordie raced onward without knowing or even caring where he was going. He followed the music. The throbbing beat filled his head, blocking out all other thought as it led him down one hallway, up another, across a catwalk and down a set of metal stairs. He almost stumbled more than once in the terrible lighting Cedric and his cronies seemed to thrive in, but pure adrenaline and a healthy dose of fear kept him going.
While he ran, he could hear Cedric pounding along right behind him. Fear drove him on while Cedric gave pursuit. At last, the music got almost too loud to bear and Geordie saw flickering red and blue strobe lights below. At last, he’d reached the club. Everything was in full swing now. The TV over the bar was on, showing abstract music videos that matched the weird electronic songs blasting over the speakers. Guys—it was all guys, as he’d suspected—danced, packed close together, in the space between the bar and the stage. A few hung out at tables either in groups or pairs. A few loners surveyed the floor from the periphery while sipping their drinks.
Sure enough, on the stage he’d spotted before, go-go boys in the tiniest g-strings imaginable danced provocatively, bumping and grinding with the air and each other. Geordie didn’t see Aaron up there, however.