For the next three hours Kat and Cindy were completely absorbed. Each time they ran through the songs, they sounded better. They figured out how many times to loop the bass lines. They turned up the tempo on a few of the slower songs, making them more danceable. Most of Kat’s material for Kradle had been straight on and fast anyway, the frenetic pace only possible due to the shortness of the songs. Now they were extended, but Kat and Cindy could be quiet and let the bass play for stretches.
“White Stripes meets 4 Strings,” Cindy called it.
“Between the two, we can alienate almost everyone,” Kat had replied, even though she loved the sound they were making.
“We didn’t alienate the crowd last night. They stayed. And they’ve been telling their friends all day. We’re going to be swamped.”
Cindy’s optimism was contagious, and Kat met her grin with one of her own.
Amy walked in, holding a phone. “Hey. You guys are sounding awesome.”
“Were we too loud?” asked Cindy.
Amy kissed Cindy on the lips. “You, my love, are never too loud.” She turned to Kat and offered her the phone. “Phone’s for you. I think it’s that jerk from yesterday.”
Brett? Brett wasn’t a jerk. She had the phone in her grasp before she realized that Amy probably meant Angus. By then it was too late to give it back. Amy had turned her attention back to kissing Cindy, and even though Kat had no interest in women in that way, the love in their eyes made her jealous.
“This is Kat,” she said into the phone.
“Kat. Angus. Listen, I don’t know what kind of music that is you’re making, and it’s none of my business, but you can’t use my songs in your show.”
How had Angus gotten Cindy’s number? Cindy had been in the DC music scene for a while, and Angus had connections. It was as if he was sending her a message. I can find you anywhere. “They are my songs, Angus. I wrote them.”
“I co-own the copyright. Of course, you could come back to the band. And to me.”
“You think I’d sleep with you again after that kind of threat? Not that I would anyway.”
“Meet me after the show, Kat, and we’ll talk about it. Just the two of us. There’s a bar around the corner called Vertigo. Be there at twelve thirty, or my lawyer will talk to your lawyer.”
He hung up.
Kat sighed. She had every legal right to play the songs she’d written. The problem was Angus had cash on hand right now, and she didn’t. Part of the reason for that, of course, was that he hadn’t paid her royalty money and probably wouldn’t unless she got a lawyer to force his hand. Maybe the record company could be convinced to pay her directly, but that too would take a lawyer. But without money, how was she going to get one? It was a catch-22.
She didn’t want to go meet with Angus. She wanted to go home with Brett. How would she explain it to him, anyway? Oh, I’m going to meet with my old boyfriend, the guy who punched you last night. That would go over very well. She’d have to think of something. A lie. She took a deep breath. No, something that wasn’t a lie. But she had no choice but to try to talk to Angus. Her entire life’s work was at stake. At least the place he’d suggested meeting was a public place. That wouldn’t stop Angus from making an unpleasant scene, but she’d be physically safe. She just had to be mentally tough. I can do it.
Chapter Six
“I’ve got music stuff after the show. Can I take a rain check for tomorrow?”
There was something Kat wasn’t telling him. He could tell from the way she didn’t quite meet his eyes. The problem was that she was supposed to be onstage in five minutes, so he didn’t have time to sort it out with her. The loud, canned techno playing in the club didn’t make it any easier to hold a serious conversation. He’d have to call her on it later.
“Can you take a date?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach and having to raise his voice to be heard over the music. He took a moment to admire her curves. She looked fantastic in tight black jeans and high-heeled black boots. Her tank top was artfully ripped on the side of the chest to reveal a pink bra. Part of him wanted her to cover up. Part of him was enjoying the view.
Kat shook her head. “Not this time!” she yelled back.
“Will you want help with your stuff later?”
“Nah. Cindy’s really into girl power. Best let us take care of it ourselves.”
Brett nodded. He’d sort it out later. Right now he wanted her to go on the stage knowing she had his support. They weren’t, he supposed, at a place where that would mean a whole lot to her, not yet. But it still seemed right to give it. Possibly he was a temporary fling for her, but he thought he’d gotten to her in a way she hadn’t expected. If so, the feeling was mutual.
“Go knock ’em dead, then. I’ll be listening, and I’ll see you tomorrow night at my place.”
“It’s a date!” Kat kissed him and made her way through the crowd toward the stage, quickly disappearing in the midst of a sea of mostly taller bodies. The place was packed. Brett had a good memory for faces, and he could see a number of people had returned from the night before. The crowd had mixed more too. There wasn’t an obvious divide of ravers on the left, punks on the right. Behind him, the bouncer was turning people away. Brett was glad he’d gotten there early.
He spotted a familiar flash of purple hair, and sure enough, it was Lisa. Where Lisa was, Darren could not be far away, and as expected, he was right next to her. Brett headed over that way.
“I thought you didn’t like this kind of thing,” Brett said.
“I had to see what you were raving about,” said Darren. “Besides, Lisa wanted to come, and she can be very persuasive when she wants to be.” He grinned. “And I enjoy her persuasion.”
Lisa smiled sweetly. Brett chuckled. He could imagine, and he’d rather not. He’d miss Katrina in his bed tonight, which was crazy after only having her there once. He’d been very much looking forward to making love to her again. He completely understood if her bandmate wanted to bask in the aftershow glow, however, and the two obviously worked well together. It was a relationship to nurture. Brett didn’t think he was jealous, exactly; he just wanted what he wanted.
Katrina.
Cindy walked out onstage first, followed by Kat, and the crowd cheered before even a note was played. The ones who had been there last night were the most enthusiastic, but everyone else joined in because they were part of the mob. Under the lights, Kat soaked it up. He had never seen anyone who was so exactly where they needed to be.
Kat flicked a switch, and the drum machine started its insistent beat. Another, and a bass line started. The crowd began to move, swaying at first, then starting to dance. There wasn’t a lot of room to dance, but people were doing it anyway, accepting the jostling bodies of strangers as part of the ambience. Cindy’s guitar came in with a lovely melody over the insistent beat. Then Kat started singing, and everyone was caught up in it. Even, Brett noticed, his buddy Darren.
A blue light flickered across the stage and caught the torn tank top Kat was wearing. The blue tint reminded him of how she’d fit the corset. It had been exactly right for her, as if he’d custom made it for her figure, and that was pure accident. The way she looked when he’d cinched her in had clinched it. He’d wanted to give it to her, but giving expensive gifts on a one-night stand was a good way to get slapped. He didn’t care about getting slapped, exactly; it was the notion that he might make her feel bad enough to slap him that had stopped him. He wanted things to go right, which meant he’d have to be patient.
He moved back to where he could get a better view. He was tall enough he could see over the crowd with ease. The most amazing thing was the look on Kat’s face as she commanded the beat. Her performance was different from last night, full of confidence. He’d had women tell him that a night with him was the best night of their life, that an intense play session made them feel as good as they ever felt. He wasn’t sure he believed them entirely, but
he believed they believed it. Kat would never tell him that, not truthfully anyway. Right there, onstage, she was in an ecstasy that couldn’t possibly be faked, and as much as she liked the corset or the flogging or the sex, she was in heaven now. It was daunting in a way. He couldn’t compete with it.
But he didn’t need to compete. He could be there for her when she was off stage, when she needed to let it all go and not be in control anymore. And when she was onstage, he could enjoy her happiness.
He looked around, his old cop instincts making him wonder if Angus would show up again, but there was no sign of the other man. Even Kat’s music couldn’t stop him from noticing a drug deal going down in a dark corner of the room, a small pack of white powder exchanged for a few folded-up bills. Brett pitied anyone who needed help getting high in this atmosphere. The crowd was revved up; the music was loud and brilliant. It was not, however, his problem. He noted the participants and resolved to keep an eye out for them. Molly users were pretty tame most of the time, but white powder could be a lot of things. Including occasionally baking soda, if the seller wasn’t looking for repeat business. The mousy young male who had pocketed the money slipped out of the club shortly after, which could mean a lot of things. Possibly all it meant was that he sold out his stock.
I’ve got to stop thinking like a cop. But Brett knew it would never go away entirely.
The boy—he couldn’t have been more than twenty, and Brett suspected he used a fake ID to get into the club, because his hand wasn’t stamped with the mark they used to indicate people who were too young to legally drink—came out of the bathroom a few minutes later looking glassy-eyed. You didn’t get that look from sniffing sodium bicarbonate. But he dived into the crowd, and Brett saw him dancing wildly before he lost sight of him.
Brett decided he might as well dance himself. Being big wasn’t an advantage in a crowd like this if you wanted to dance, but the music put him in the mood. He looked up at Kat, her eyes shining as she watched the crowd get into the groove. Tomorrow night, my little kitty, I’m going to make you moan in pleasure. He suspected he wasn’t the only man getting hard from watching Kat play—and maybe a few had eyes for Cindy as well—but he was the only one who was going to sleep with her. He could wait until tomorrow night. He’d save it up for her.
The drug dealer may have left, but everyone else was staying. By the end of the encore, the place was still full of people hoping Kat and Cindy would come out again. Only when they were finally convinced there would be no more music did they start to file out.
The place was mostly empty, and Cindy and Kat and another woman had gotten their stuff off the stage when Darren and Lisa walked over to him, their faces shining with sweat. Darren had his arm around Lisa’s waist. “You want to join us for some drinks?” asked Darren.
“Sure. Might as well,” Brett replied. There wasn’t any sense in him hanging around and getting in Kat and Cindy’s way, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to be the third wheel with Darren and Lisa for long. Still, it would be good to catch up with his friends. “Where to?”
“I saw a little bar called Vertigo,” said Lisa.
“That’s not a bar. That’s a strip club,” Brett said.
Lisa blushed. “Oops.”
“It’s your area, Brett,” Darren pointed out.
“How about Kelly’s, down Calvert Street?”
“Sounds good,” said Darren.
The kid Brett had spotted earlier with the white powder walked past. He didn’t look high anymore. He just looked green, and he was headed toward the bathroom. You heard reports of drugs getting laced with all sorts of nasty stuff, even rat poison. The fact was, rat poison was too expensive, and the goal of sticking other stuff in people’s drugs was generally to increase the profit margin not to kill the customer base even faster than they already were. The kid was having an adverse reaction. “I’ll meet you guys there. Just a minute.”
Brett followed the boy into the bathroom, adjusting his pants to make it look like he had business there. He got there in time to watch the kid throw up into the sink. It wasn’t pretty, but maybe it would be a lesson. He didn’t interfere but watched as the boy cleaned himself up. He even cleaned the surface around the sink. It looked like he’d be okay. Good enough.
Then the kid pulled out the baggie and poured a line of white powder on the porcelain, and Brett couldn’t take the stupidity of it anymore.
“Y’know,” he said, “I might be a cop.”
The kid looked up. He obviously had no idea he was being watched. Of course, he hadn’t looked around either. Maybe he’d been too busy throwing up.
“Huh?” A moment later, “Are you?”
Brett didn’t answer. He’d told plenty of lies to criminals when he’d been a cop. It was often part of the job. But he wasn’t about to go to impersonate a police officer. “I suggest you go to the stall right there—keep the door open, so I can watch you—and empty that little bag right down the toilet. Then toss the bag in the trash can, and we’ll forget all about this.”
The kid looked at Brett, at the bag, at Brett again, then at the toilet. Brett knew he was thinking it was a waste. Brett was thinking it was a waste too but not of the drugs.
“All right,” said the kid. He went into the stall. He looked back, no doubt hoping that Brett wasn’t watching closely enough, but he was disappointed. In the end, he followed directions.
Brett got a paper towel, wet it, and cleaned up the white powder from the sink. Then he flushed the towel too.
“Shit,” said the kid.
“What’s your name?”
The kid hesitated long enough to make up something. “Alex.”
“Can I see some ID?”
Alex sighed and fished out his ID. “Okay, okay, so my name’s really Carl.”
“It’s stupid to lie to a police officer.” Brett wasn’t sure that was always true, but it implied something he wanted to imply. He looked over the ID. It was a pretty good fake, but it was still a fake. “Go home, kid. And stop doing stuff that makes you sick.” He put the ID in his pocket.
The kid opened his mouth, about to ask for it back, but changed his mind when he met Brett’s gaze. He turned and ran.
By the time Brett reached the street, there was no sign of Carl, if that was really his name. A lot of kids with fake IDs to get into clubs did get their real names on them. It made them feel grown-up. He might check out the address later or ask a police friend to. There was a good chance it wasn’t real, but it might be, and if Carl thought he was being watched, it might help him turn his life around.
He headed toward Kelly’s and recognized the couple in front of him. Well, he recognized one of them, anyway. Cindy. Cindy’s arm was around a small brunette in a tight minidress, and they slowed their stride briefly to share a kiss as they walked, with the practiced ease of a couple who had done it a hundred times before. Couldn’t bring a date, huh? There wasn’t any doubt that Cindy and the girl were a couple. So why did Katrina say he couldn’t come? And why wasn’t Katrina with them?
He followed Cindy and her girlfriend all the way to Kelly’s and saw them get a table next to Darren and Lisa. Katrina was nowhere to be seen. He doubled back. Maybe a good man would have let it go, but he still thought like a cop. If something wasn’t right, he wanted to know why.
He got back to the Caravan Club in time to see Katrina slip out the front door and head down the street in the opposite direction from Kelly’s. Keeping his distance, he followed her. He was aware what he was doing bordered on stalking. If Katrina was lying to him because she didn’t want to have a relationship with him or because she had a date with someone else, there wasn’t a thing he could or would do about it except let her go. He didn’t have to like it, though.
She turned the corner and surprised him by walking into Vertigo. It wasn’t a place women normally went—not as customers anyway. Contrary to the fantasies some men entertained, even women who were into other women didn’t tend to want to hang out a
t gentlemen’s clubs. If she was working there, he definitely wanted to watch, but that seemed unlikely too.
And okay, to be honest, he might want to watch, but only if he could clear out the rest of the audience first. When had he gotten so possessive? He never got that way about women. Never. And it surprised him.
The smart thing for a tail to do was wait a minute before barging in, in case she was being held up by the bouncer inside. But he didn’t feel like doing the smart thing. In fact, he should have called out to her on the street, and would have had instincts not taken over. Sometimes he regretted ever having been a cop. He walked in, flashed some ID to the amused large man in a too-tight black shirt at the door who probably hadn’t been about to card him anyway, and then pushed open the second door.
It took a few moments to get his eyes adjusted. A woman with plastic tits wearing nothing but a thong was on the stage, lit by soft pink lights. The rest of the room was darker than night, or at least the way night was on a street with lights. It took him a minute before he could spot Katrina. She was sitting at a table with a big man. Angus.
Fuck.
His cop instinct told him to go sit at the table that was near them, the one farther from the stage and even more shrouded in darkness and sit and listen. He had another, more primal urge, to go up and tell Angus that woman was taken. What kind of clown meets a woman in a strip club anyway? He could even slide right into the seat next to her and say, “Hi, I’m Katrina’s lover.”
Kat and Angus had been lovers once. There was plenty of information about that on the Internet. He turned around and walked out. Her life. Her choices. He didn’t care anymore. She’d lied to him enough times already, and he didn’t want to hear anymore.
He hoped Darren and Lisa were good company tonight. He missed the old days in a way, when he could hang out with just his friend. Even Evan was hooked up now. There was no way he was going to share what happened with Lisa present, and he knew he would be bottling it up for the rest of the night.
Blue Desire Page 10