Miami Burn

by John D. Patten

  Axel gave them a hand signal and they surrounded me, two of them taking me by the arms. My guess is that it looks bad to be in the VIP area without a bevy of attractive women and in cases like mine where I didn’t bring my own entourage and I’m a guest of the house, Tony V supplies one. Nice gig.

  Together, we walked up to what amounted to be a skybox of sorts, looking down on the center of the club over a glass railing. From here, there was a clear view of the dance floor and a series of alcoves with tables surrounding it.

  Nearly-naked girls in either angel wings or devil horns were raised and lowered on cables Peter Pan-style to retrieve bottles from a glowing structure that protruded from the ceiling with every variety of liquor imaginable, suspended high above the mass of writhing bodies below. As if that wasn’t enough, the flying girls were hit by projected lights that flashed words on their bodies as they flew up and down.

  The skybox itself was a mini-living room with a low glass coffee table surrounded by a plush black wraparound couch. On the table was a bucket of ice and a variety of sodas. Each skybox was separated by a low diagonal wall with a tiny latched door on either side. Separate, but if you wanted to invite your neighbors over, just flip it open.

  The girls piled onto the couch just as a blonde angel floated down from the sky and hovered directly in front of me. The words DIRTY and YES flashed intermittently on her tiny body in green lasers.

  “Hi, I’m Ariel,” she said, reaching out to touch my face. “I’m your bottle girl. What can I get for you and your party?”

  At the name, I was momentarily transported to another time and another place. A winter morning far from here and long ago, the smell of perfume and soft skin as a much different Ariel turned in bed, flipping her red hair over my face.

  “Are you okay?” said the floating girl.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Uh, what do you recommend?”

  “Swarovski is always a crowd-pleaser.”

  “Sure.”

  Trying to figure out how the signaling for the rig worked, I watched her float up to the bottles, which were all tucked into beehive-like cubbyholes that glowed. The whole thing looked like something right out of Star Wars. Quite impressive. Must have some sort of safety system built in, plus controllers working the lines somewhere.

  Ariel flew back down and handed me the bottle.

  “If you need anything else,” she said, “just wave to me and I’ll come.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  She pushed off and floated backward, turning in midair like she was swimming and dove to another table far below where a group had just sat down.

  I turned to my “crew” and placed the bottle on the low table with a hand gesture for them to fill their glasses, which they happily did.

  I sat between a curly-haired blonde in a tight fluorescent green dress and a straight-haired brunette in a tight fluorescent blue dress. The blonde licked the edge of her glass, filled with vodka and something fizzy, and then handed it to me. I had sworn to myself not to give in to temptation of any kind, but her green eyes held mine and I watched my hand as it took the drink. I sipped it. Smooth and strong with a hint of lime. She made another one for herself. Both girls pressed themselves into me on both sides, their hands on my thighs. For a moment, I felt like a king. This part of the scene I understood quite well.

  “So what’s your name?” said the blonde.

  “Ti—”, I said with a cough as she squeezed my upper thigh, digging her nails in. I cleared my throat. “Titus.”

  “What?”

  “Titus!”

  “Yeah, right. What’s your real name?” Another squeeze, this one closer to my crotch.

  “That’s my real name, darlin’.”

  “I’m Bri. That’s Sash.”

  “Hi, Bri.” I turned to the girl on my right. “Hi, Sash.”

  “Hi,” said Sash with a big smile.

  “Short for Sasha?” I said.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure.”

  Bri sipped some vodka and squinted at me.

  “You’re old,” she said. “You’re like what, thirty?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Just decided to go out tonight and pick up a hot young chick, huh?”

  “Sure.”

  “Am I a hot young chick?”

  I took another swig, finishing my drink. “Of course you are.”

  And with that, her tongue was in my mouth. I reeled back, spilling some ice.

  She pulled back, perplexed.

  “What?” she said.

  I grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth. “Sorry,” I said. I made another drink.

  She screwed her lips into a pout.

  “You don’t like me?” she said.

  I patted her hand on my thigh, moving it away from my crotch.

  “You’re sweet,” I said.

  She put on a devious smile while twirling her blonde curls and said, “You know what I like to do?”

  She leaned to whisper in my ear and told me. I nearly spilled my drink.

  “Good to have hobbies,” I said.

  “We could do it now,” she said. “The bathrooms are real private up here. Or I could just blow you.”

  A tall black man in a dark suit entered the skybox. He was lean, about thirty-five or so, with a carved part in his hair and a pencil-thin mustache.

  “Excuse me,” I said, disentangling myself from the two girls.

  “Sure,” said Bri.

  I stood up and crossed to the railing, where the man smiled at me with an outstretched hand.

  “Titus,” he said, “I’m Tony V.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said as I shook his hand and got pulled into one of those ridiculous bro-hugs, which have always felt forced and showy to me. Tony V looked like a million bucks, his baby blue silk tie clipped to his baby blue silk shirt with a diamond-studded bar.

  “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” he said.

  “Move me to a nice quiet beach with moonlight?” I said.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Just kidding. This place is amazing.”

  “Anything for Paulie. Anything.”

  I took out my phone and scrolled to the montage of Allie Hayes.

  “Have you seen this girl?” I said.

  He took the phone and studied the pictures.

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  I took back the phone, and scrolled to Jake Preston.

  “How about him?” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “He’s here quite often, but I haven’t seen him tonight. You want me to send him up if he comes in?”

  “No, but thanks.”

  “Not a problem. Just let me know if you need anything. Wave to Axel or Ariel and I’ll be here fast.”

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  He smiled, forcing another silly bro-hug, and then he was gone.

  I felt a hand on my midsection as Sash slinked up beside me and ran her hand up my back. She smiled up at me and licked her lower lip. I nodded and smiled back, momentarily lost in her deep blue eyes. Shards of blue glitter on her face perfectly matched her fluorescent eye-shadow and dress, making her skin seem darker than it was. Her black hair spread out in luscious strands that brushed my neck. My lungs filled with an intoxicating aroma of floral essence, balanced and enhanced by nature’s irresistible narcotic of young woman.

  “I don’t know what Bri told you,” Sash said, “but I do everything she does, and I do it a lot better.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  I smiled again, took another sip, and forced myself to look down at the dance floor for clues.

  Bri must have noticed Sash moving in on me because she was soon attached to my left side again. Down on the main floor, I saw the red-haired kid with the round red sunglasses who had given me the thumbs-up out front. He and his “crew” had finally made it in. He walked with an air of total confidence, like he owned the place. He looked up deliberately like he was se
arching for someone. His gaze fell on me and he threw a wave, kind of like a salute. I saluted back and motioned for him to come up. He gave me a quick thumbs-up, not too eager, gently nudging his “crew” to the VIP area. I glanced at Axel, who nodded.

  This could help. I’m out of my element and could use an insider to help me navigate this maze. This kid looked like he might fit the bill. He had sized me up outside, saw from my interaction with the doorman that I had some clout—no matter how out of place I appeared—and he wanted in on that. Maybe we can help each other out.

  “Friend of yours?” said Bri as the kid and six girls waltzed up the stairs into our skybox.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “He’s kinda cute.”

  I was about to comment, but decided against it.

  “Titus,” I said as the kid walked up to me.

  “Jason Stark,” he said. Another bro hug.

  “Drink?” I turned to the bottle on the table but it was empty. Like magic, Ariel the bottle girl was next to me in mid-air on the other side of the railing holding out another. I took it and she blew me a kiss as she drifted away. Am I dreaming all this?

  Jason fixed himself a drink and introductions went all around. Bri, Sash, Amber, Lexi, Brooke, Jenna, Katie, and several others.

  “Place is hot tonight,” said Jason. I sensed he was putting on a voice deeper than his natural tone, attempting to sound manly.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Haven’t seen you before. You’re a friend of Tony V’s.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

  “Yeah.” I sipped some more, finishing my second drink. I poured another. “You know him?”

  “Naw, but he’d be good to meet. How do you know him?”

  “Friend of a friend.”

  “You new in town?” he said.

  “Sort of,” I said.

  Jason smiled. “You’re not a big talker, are you?”

  I must have accidentally given him one of the deadpan stares I use at Cap’n Jack’s because he leaned back and put his hands up.

  “That’s cool, dude,” Jason said. “That’s cool. Thanks for having me and my crew up.”

  I relaxed my shoulders and smiled.

  “You’re good,” I said.

  “What do you mean?” he said.

  “That thing you did at the front door. That how you always get into VIP?”

  “Hey, whoa, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

  “Relax. It’s a compliment. You can also probably see that I’m a little bit out of my element.”

  He laughed.

  “You do seem a little mature for this place,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “So, maybe we can help each other.”

  “You name it, dude.”

  I pulled out my phone and again dialed up the montage of Allie. “Seen her?”

  “Looks familiar,” Jason said, “but dude, my cock is in so many girls’ mouths, it’s hard to remember.”

  I resisted the urge to throw him over the balcony. I scrolled to Jake Preston’s picture.

  “How about this guy?” I said.

  “Aw, fuck, man,” he said. “That’s Testarossa.”

  “Testarossa?”

  “That’s what we call him, ‘cause that’s his sweet ride. Plus, he thinks he’s a Ferrari. Model pick-up artist. That’s how he gets all the girls. See, bro, the human mind can be programmed to do astonishing things. If you think you’re a Testarossa, really believe you are a Testarossa—boom!—you’re a Testarossa.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes.

  “You know this Testarossa?” I said.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t know him that well. We met once. But I’d love to party with him. He goes to Hinraker’s.”

  “What’s Hinraker’s?”

  “Not what. Who. Hinraker is a rich guy. Sick motherfucking house on the water. The craziest shit happens at those parties. I mean the craziest motherfucking shit. Or so I’ve heard. I don’t have the cred to get in yet, but I’m getting there.”

  “You don’t have the what yet?” I said.

  “The cred,” he said. “You know. The status. Being in with the celebrities, the top tier social circles, the biggest parties. Life is all being about being high status.”

  “Is it?”

  “Fuck yeah! Once you reach the highest rung of status, you get to party with Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Dude, really?” He looked at me like I asked a blasphemous question, like it was pathetic that he even had to answer it. I shook my head.

  “So who’s this Hinraker?” I said.

  “I told you,” said Jason. “Some rich guy.”

  “No, I mean what’s he do?”

  “Fuck, man, I don’t know. Sits around and counts his money, I guess. All I know is the hottest girls party there. I’m talking super-hot, hotter than all these girls here. And they do anything and everything, right there. From what I hear, he doesn’t care what you do or where you do it. Probably hires a crew to hose the whole place down afterward.”

  “Drugs?” I said.

  Jason froze, leaning back and squinting at me. “Are you a cop?”

  “Do I look like a cop?”

  Jason paused and bit his upper lip while staring at me. “No, I guess not. Yeah, I’ve heard Hinraker has anything you need, always there.”

  “Gotta be expensive.”

  “Hinraker can afford it, dude.”

  “And this guy Testarossa hangs there?” I said.

  “All the time,” he said. “He brings a shit ton—I mean a metric fucking shit ton—of pussy with him.”

  I glared at him, trying to figure out what Jason Stark is like in real life. He’s observant and perceptive, skills which have helped him become a dominant up-and-coming leader in this fabricated nighttime empire. But I suspected he’s useless out in the real world.

  “Speak of the devil,” said Jason, “here is the man Testarossa himself now.”

  Down below, Jake Preston walked in with twelve girls. White puffy shirt open to his waist. Black shiny pants like a rockstar. Swaying with two girls as the sea of dancers parted for them. None of the girls looked like Allie, although it was hard to tell from up here.

  “Like I said,” said Jason. “Act like a Ferrari, be a Ferrari.”

  “Uh-huh.” I finished my drink.

  I watched Jake Preston as he moved through the center of the club. Everyone seemed to know him, waving as he passed like he’s a celebrity. Several fist bumps from guys. Lots of smiles from girls who stopped bopping just to see a god walking among mere mortals. I thought of the emperor with no clothes fable and chuckled to myself. There were some guys at the end of his entourage, trying to be as cool as their imperious leader but coming across as Toyotas instead of Testarossas.

  Jason turned and looked hard at me from the side with a curious squint.

  “You’re not impressed with any of this, are you?” he said.

  “Shows, huh?” I said.

  He was perplexed. Must be a huge mystery to him why any guy wouldn’t want all this. Bet he couldn’t even stomach the thought that right now I’d even choose my two-room hovel with its broken air conditioner and lizard buddy over one minute more than absolutely necessary here.

  “You sure you’re not a cop?” Jason said.

  “I’m not a cop,” I said.

  “What’s with the pictures of the girl then? Why do you want to find her?”

  I looked directly at him, wondering how to play this.

  “I’m a hired gun,” I said.

  “No shit?” he said. “You work for the club?”

  “No, private. Woman hired me to find her daughter.”

  “Duuuuuude! That’s awesome! A real life private eye. Just like in the movies.”

  “Well, I’m not really a—”

  “I’ve often thought about getting into that kind of work myself.”

&
nbsp; “Bet you’d call yourself Jason Stark. How’d you come up with that name anyway?”

  His eyes went wide and then he laughed.

  “You said I was good,” he said, “but you’re sharp, too. Hey, what can I say? It’s my business name slash club name. Kind of a combination of Jason Bourne and Tony Stark.”

  “Who’s Tony Stark?” I said.

  He shot me another look like I’m from a different planet.

  “Seriously, dude?” he said. “Iron Man.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That’s a comic book, right?”

  “Man, you got to get out more.”

  “So I’ve been told. What’s your real name?”

  He hesitated, then looked down. “Aaron Silverstein.”

  “I’ll just call you Jason Stark.”

  “You da man.”

  He held his fist up for me to bump, which I reluctantly did.

  “What do you do?” I said.

  “Hang out, go to clubs,” he said.

  “No, I mean for work.”

  “Oh. I teach rich dorky dudes how to pick up girls.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He laughed, like he was letting me in on a secret. “No, I make a metric shit ton of money doing it.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Naw, the guys that hire me are pathetic. But they’re loaded so who am I to stop them from throwing wads of dough at me? I usually just end up having one or two of my crew blow them and they feel all top dog, like they earned it themselves and got their money’s worth.”

  Jake Preston, a.k.a. Testarossa, entered the skybox of another guest on the other side of the club, a large guy with long curly hair. A very large guy. Maybe too large for the skybox.

  “Who’s that?” I said.

  “Aw, man, you shitting me?” said Jason. “Didn’t you ever see the TV show Gone about all those people stranded on a distant planet and all the weird shit that happened to them?”

  “No.”

  “JoJo Burley was the star. Well, one of the stars anyway. He played the fat goof who always got into trouble.”

  “Looks like a stretch for him.”

  “JoJo is cool. He’s tight with Testarossa.”

  “You know JoJo?” I said.

  “Met him once or twice,” he said.

  Time to drop a challenge. “You’re a big enough name around here to introduce me, right? How about a little reconnaissance mission, Agent Stark?”