In Plain Sight
Sherryl D. Hancock
Copyright © Sherryl D. Hancock 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2018
ISBN: 978-1-912701-05-6
Cover by Claire Wood
Cover photo credit: Tirzah D. Hancock
www.vulpine-press.com
Also in the WeHo series:
When Love Wins
When Angels Fall
Break in the Storm
Turning Tables
Marking Time
Jet Blue
Water Under the Bridge
Vendetta
Gray Skies
Everything to Everyone
Lightning Strykes
Chapter 1
Her feet burned, and she knew they were bleeding. She couldn’t really feel them anymore. Dizzy, she turned to walk down the street into the town she’d just arrived in and trudged on. She had no idea what she was going to do. She’d just known she’d needed to go when she got the chance. Reaching into the pocket of her dirty white dress, she clamped her hand around a piece of paper, making sure she still had it. This was going to be her salvation, but she had to get somewhere she could use it. Someone brushed by her, not even glancing at her. She knew she looked horrible; her blond hair was dirty and disheveled, her face just as dirty.
She continued to walk. Her throat was so dry and her stomach ached from lack of food. How long does it take to starve to death? she wondered idly. What had she heard? Was it three weeks? She’d been walking for a few days now, but certainly not long enough to starve. That was a relief. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm, and her first instinct was to fight—she thought it was them. She kicked and screamed and bit whatever skin got near her.
“Calm down, girlie!” the man yelled, shaking her slight frame until her teeth chattered.
She stilled instantly, her blue eyes wide with fear as she turned to look at him, afraid she’d recognize him. As she realized she didn’t, her vision started to go dark. She was unconscious a moment later.
“She’s on again!” Oliver called to Memphis.
“And I care because?” Memphis asked, standing in the doorway to the office.
“’Cause you gotta help me again,” he said patiently.
“Like hell I do. I got her attention—the rest is up to you.”
Oliver grinned. “Come on, sis, help a brutha out…”
“I am not your sister, and you are not a brutha, white boy,” Memphis said, rolling her eyes.
“You’re like the very best friend a guy could ever have…” Oliver batted his eyelashes.
“You’re a dude—you’re not supposed to do that shit.”
“I will get you that jacket you’ve been wanting…” Oliver said, his tone changing.
“Oh, we’re at bribery already?”
“You know that there’s a waiting list a mile long for that jacket. It could be yours for the low, low price of chatting up a hot English chick for me.”
“You are a cheap whore, Oliver.” Memphis gave him a dirty look, then put her hands on her hips. “Well? Move!”
He jumped out of the chair, giving her room to sit down.
“Well, where are we today…” Memphis said.
She started reading the screen, but before she could even say anything in the chat forum Oliver was using, a message from the girl he’d been after popped up in a private screen.
“Well, that was hard,” Memphis said, grinning. “You don’t even friggin’ need me. She’s already all drooly over you.”
“Nah, I got offline right after you went to bed. I had no clue what to say after all that.”
“Jesus, you suck. How do you ever get laid at all?” Memphis looked at him derisively, though she was grinning.
“I’m cute.”
“Not really.”
On the screen, Kiery22 was trying to get Oliver to respond to her.
Kiery22: Ollie are you there?
Memphis looked at Oliver, splaying out her hands in gesture of futility. “Dude, you’re gonna have to talk to her on your own sometime.”
“Just get her interested again,” Oliver said, biting his thumbnail.
“I better have that jacket tonight…” Memphis muttered as she began to type.
Oh-Liver23: Hi Kiery. Sorry, I was AFK.
Kiery22: Oh, okay, I was afraid you were mad at me or something.
Oh-Liver23: Oh no, it’s just that my awesome roommate came home last night and she needed to use the computer.
Kiery22: You have a female roommate?
Oh-Liver23: Yeah, she’s been out on a tour.
Kiery22: A tour of what?
Oh-Liver23: A concert tour, she’s a sound engineer.
Kiery22: What does that do?
“Seriously?” Memphis muttered. “Why does no one know what that is? What is wrong with people?”
“Don’t go off on her, she’s English,” Oliver said helpfully. “Maybe they call them something different there.”
Memphis rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, sure.”
oh-liver23: A sound engineer makes sure that the microphones, amplifiers, guitars, etc., sound right and not distorted during a concert.
Kiery22: Sounds important!
“You bet your sweet English ass…” Memphis muttered.
“Memphis!” Oliver exclaimed, laughing.
“It’s just how shitty or good the band sounds live, no big effing deal…”
“Issues, honey?” Oliver asked, his brown eyes blinking repeatedly.
“How many hours you got?”
Oh-Liver23: She thinks it’s pretty important, yeah.
Kiery22: So what do you do?
Oh-Liver23: I’m a rep for Diesel brand.
Kiery22: For what?
“Ha! How’s that feel, Ollie?”
“Diesel isn’t really for girlie girls, Memphis.”
“Are you saying I’m not a girlie girl?” Memphis said, feigning offense.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’. Hell, I’m more girlie than you half the time.”
“Only ’cause you’re a pussy,” Memphis said, smiling beatifically.
“You are so sweet…”
“And I’m fuckin’ late.” Memphis glanced at the clock on the computer. “I gotta go—you’re on your own. Good luck!” She hopped out of the chair and grabbed her gear bag.
Memphis was on a break from the Four Queens with a Jack Kicker tour. Not that she ever really took breaks. She was always doing something—it wasn’t in her nature to sit around and do nothing. At the age of twenty-five, she’d been working in the music industry for three years, but she’d been in love with music for much longer. Music was her one true love; nothing else compared for her.
She climbed into her red 1993 Porsche 911 GT, plugged in her iPod, and started the car with a satisfying, purring growl. Music poured through the speakers, and she began dancing in her seat even as she backed the Porsche out of the garage. Speeding off toward The Club, she rolled down her window and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as she drove.
Walking into The Club forty minutes later, she winked at one of the bartenders, a girl she’d gone a few rounds with previously. The girl smiled, waving.
“You drink
ing coffee this morning, Memphis?”
“Always,” Memphis said with a grin.
The girl grinned slyly. “Cream only, right?”
Memphis nodded, aware that the bartender—Maggie, Memphis finally remembered—was letting the other girl behind the bar know she knew Memphis intimately. It was a game they all liked to play. Memphis didn’t care. Everyone knew she had no idea what monogamy even looked like; she certainly didn’t practice it.
“There’s my girl,” said Millie, the owner of The Club, smiling as she descended the stairs from the office.
Millie looked like an old biker chick, like someone who’d been around the block a few times. Her brown eyes reflected a lot of years and a lot of experience. She’d been running the highly successful club for many years, and was still going strong.
“Hey, Millie,” Memphis said, smiling.
“I heard about your triumph in New York.” Millie looked unhappy about it.
She was referring to the compilation Memphis had mixed for Remington LaRoché for her Mixed Martial Arts fight with Akasha Salt, held at Madison Square Garden. It had been a highly publicized fight, and there’d been a lot of attention on it, since Akasha Salt had been talking trash about Remington for months. Memphis knew Remington from the tour she was working on; Remington was the bodyguard and girlfriend of Wynter Kincade, a very popular rock star. She’d liked Remington from the minute she’d met her, and had decided to do a compilation for her to pay homage to her. She’d guest DJed at the club Remington and a lot of her supporters had been at the night before the fight, so she’d gotten the chance to showcase the mix. Remington had liked it and had ended up using it as her entrance song for the fight. She’d had the announcers tell everyone who’d mixed it, so Memphis had quickly become a better-known name in the music world.
The bartender brought Memphis her coffee, winking at her. Millie shook her head ruefully. All of her bartenders were complete flirts, and while she loved it, sometimes it was a headache.
“Thanks, Mags,” Memphis said, smiling, then looked at Millie again. “Eh, it was just luck. Remington LaRoché is a serious class act, and she asked about using it as her entrance and then had them give me credit.” She shrugged. “It was cool.”
“Luck my ass, little girl,” Millie said, rolling her eyes. “You must have done something right to have gotten as good as you are, and I heard that little ditty and it was pretty fuckin’ awesome!”
Memphis grinned. “Thanks. So what time do you want to do this tonight?”
“So you aren’t here to tell me you can’t make it?”
“Why would I do that?”
Millie grinned. “Good to hear your britches still fit.” She winked at Memphis. “I’d like to get things going around ten, if that’s good for you.”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Memphis said. “I need to check out the system—is that cool?”
“Of course.”
“Cool.” Memphis nodded as she got up to walk over to the DJ’s booth.
She carried her coffee, sipping it as she checked things out. At one point she went back to the table and picked up her gear bag, completely lost in what she was doing. Millie shook her head; she imagined that Memphis’ tunnel vision was why she was so good at what she did. When Millie realized Memphis was going to be a while, she got up and went back to the office, leaving word with the bartenders that if Memphis needed her she’d be upstairs.
A little while later, music could be heard down in the club. Millie listened intently. She really liked the way that Memphis mixed old and new music, but also brought in some of the harder-edged sounds as well, using bands like Linkin Park and Breaking Benjamin. It wasn’t just the bubblegum stuff. Millie knew that landing Memphis McQueen as her house DJ would be a major coup. Wherever she guest DJed, the place was filled to capacity with lines around the block.
Millie had been working up a proposal for the girl for a few weeks. The New York success was a double-edged sword. Memphis being even better known meant she’d really bring them in droves, because it was also well known that she only spun in lesbian-owned clubs. It also meant that Memphis would be even more sought after by not only the local gay bars, but also by people like her current employer, BJ Sparks. Millie had the utmost respect for BJ, but she also wanted to increase her business, so she knew she was going to have to go head-to-head with the music icon.
Downstairs in the club, Maggie walked into the DJ’s booth, leaning against the counter that held the turntables and mixers. She looked down at Memphis, who was kneeling to check wires and connections.
“So what are you doing later?” Maggie asked.
Memphis glanced up, seeming surprised by the other woman’s presence. “I, uh,” she stammered, trying to refocus on the question. “Nothing, really. Why?”
“Well, I get off in two hours…” Maggie let her voice trail off suggestively.
Memphis looked back at the woman, considering. She was wondering if she’d been with this one too many times and she was starting to think they were a thing. Then again, it had been a week since she’d had sex, so it was definitely tempting. Women on the road were sometimes hard to come by, especially since they’d been in the Midwest lately. Finding women who were gay or at least bisexual first of all, and then ones who were willing to basically be a one-night stand on top of that, made things a little lean at times.
“Then I’ll be at your place in two and a half,” Memphis said, grinning.
When Memphis arrived at Maggie’s apartment, she was met at the door by one very attractive and very naked bartender.
Memphis walked in, immediately capturing Maggie’s lips with hers, her hands sliding up her body as she stepped her backwards and kicked the apartment door closed behind them. She spent the next three hours exploring every inch of the voluptuous bartender’s body. She finally left at 5:30, silently cursing herself for doing so during rush hour. It took her another hour and a half to get back to Century City.
By the time she got home, her head was full of songs she wanted to download for the gig that night. While she was waiting for the files to download, she took a quick shower. She put on what she jokingly called her “DJ clothes”—black leather pants, flat black boots with studs covering them, a black tank top, and a double-studded belt wrapped around her small waist. She added a touch of gel to her hair, to give it that bed head look, and applied eyeliner and mascara. She pulled on her fingerless leather gloves and put on a couple of long silver chains hung with various pendants. She grabbed her favorite jean zipper hoodie and her leather jacket.
Going back to her computer, she checked the status of the downloads and saw that they’d finished. She also noticed that a message box had popped up. It was Kiery22, looking for Oliver.
Memphis stared at the blinking box for a couple of minutes. She needed to get out of there, but she was also curious about what these two talked about when she wasn’t in the middle of it.
She clicked on the box and read through what Oliver had posted. She realized once again that he really had no game at all. He was seriously humdrum on Messenger. She saw that they’d talked about what Kiery22 did for a living, and that she’d mentioned applying for a different position. Naturally, Oliver hadn’t said a word about that. Guys just sucked at these things.
Memphis’ lips twitched when she saw that Oliver had tried to get something sexual going, and when Kiery22 didn’t seem into it, he had suddenly feigned a computer glitch and signed off.
“Jerk,” she muttered.
Now, Kiery22, seeing that he was signed in again—as he always was when the computer was on—was trying to talk to him. Memphis felt guilty, because she’d forgotten to turn his Messenger off when she started the computer earlier. She could see that the girl was distressed, and she didn’t want her to feel bad. She started typing.
Oh-Liver23: Hi Kiery, no I’m not avoiding you, sorry! My roommate actually turned the computer on and forgot to shut off my Messenger. She’s forgetful like that sometimes.<
br />
Kiery22: Oh, it’s okay. I guess I was just worried about how our last conversation ended.
Oh-Liver23: Oh, yeah, sorry, something weird was going on with my computer. Really sorry about that.
Kiery22: These things happen. How was your day?
Oh-Liver23: It was alright. How about yours? Did you ever apply for that other job?
Kiery22: I did! That’s really sweet that you remembered, I haven’t heard anything yet though.
Oh-Liver23: You’re smart and beautiful, they’d be stupid not to hire you!
Kiery22: That is so sweet… Muah!
Oh-Liver23: Right back at you honey. Hey, I hate to run, but Memphis has a DJ gig tonight at the local club and I promised to be there.
Kiery22: Memphis is your roommate’s name?
Oh-Liver23: Yeah, it’s Hollywood, right?
Kiery22: It’s really ace!
Oh-Liver23: Ace?
Kiery22: You know, cool.
Oh-Liver23: Oh, that makes sense. Well, I gotta go, running late. Talk soon?
Kiery22: Of course! Have fun, tell your roommate I said ‘hi!’.
Oh-Liver23: I’ll do that. Bye!
Kiery22: Bye!
Memphis turned off the computer, feeling like she’d done her good deed for the night. She grinned as she unplugged her Rekordbox. Oliver really had no hope with this girl—he just didn’t have the game for online dating.
In the end, Oliver realized he was going to need help if he was going to keep the very cute, very sexy, and intelligent Kiery22 interested. Memphis was leaving to go back to the tour that morning, and he was begging her for her help.
In Plain Sight Page 1