doing the Goth chic thing filled the room, going back and forth between a tall iron staircase and a long wooden bar spanning the length of the room. Dark, bass driven music played from hidden speakers and the decor of choice seemed to be red velvet, covering the back wall as well as a smattering of low sofas and chairs along the room's perimeter.
A woman in black leather pants, black leather jacket, and a black leather riding crop attached to her belt walked past, giving us a once over.
'Gee, suddenly I feel underdressed,' Dana mumbled to me.
'Come on, let's find Ryan.'
We threaded our way through the club patrons toward the bar where I relied on Dana's double D's to attract the bartender's attention. Eventually, they worked their magic as he leaned in our way.
'What can I get you?' he asked. He had black hair held back in a ponytail, a think Cockney accent and about twelve visible piercing on his face, reminding me of an oversized porcupine. I cringed, watching the one in his lip bob up and down as he spoke.
'We're actually looking for Ryan Jeffries. We were told he worked here?'
The bartender smiled, revealing piercing number thirteen in his tongue. 'Sure. He's upstairs. But he's already doing a scene with someone. You're gonna have to take a number, love.'
'Thanks,' I said, moving out of the way as the lady with the crop inched her way past me.
'What's that mean, 'scene'?' I whispered to Dana as we threaded our way up the iron staircase to the second floor.
She shrugged. 'I dunno. Maybe they're doing a play.'
Though, as we reached the second story landing, I realized Shakespeare, it was not.
A crowd of people was gathered around a low platform, huddled two and three deep, all eyes on a woman in the center of the stage. She had jet black hair and wore a black leather corset and shiny black leather pants. Her eyes were heavily lined in black, her bright red lips the only accent of color on her. She held what looked like a leather paddle in one hand, in the other a leash. At the end of the leash was a man with pale blond hair, shirtless, crouched on all fours on the floor, wearing a pair of black leather chaps and a studded collar around his neck.
I blinked. Suddenly unsure if I wanted to watch or quickly look away.
'Ohmigod, Dana,' I said, grabbing her arm. 'I think this is one of
Dana's eyes were riveted to the paddle in Leather Lady's hands. 'Like a sex kind of club?'
'Like an S &M kind of club. I think she's gonna spank him.'
No sooner had I gotten the words out than the paddle made a smacking sound and the crowd went wild, throwing up a cheer like Lady Leather had just scored a touchdown.
I covered my eyes.
Okay, I'll admit, I'm no sheltered virgin. But whips and chains were just a little out of my comfort zone. (And, yes, by 'little' I do mean light years.)
Dana on the other hand had a very large comfort zone.
'Oh, this I gotta see,' she said, moving forward
'Wait, Dana-' I protested. But it was too late. She was already fighting her way to the front of the crowd. I had two choices: stay here, alone, or follow her to the front row. I looked to my right. A guy in a spiked collar, leather chaps and little else gave me the eye.
'Wait for me!'
I wriggled my way forward, only hitting three people in the shins with my crutches, until I finally caught up with her. A long railing had been erected around the perimeter of the stage and I found Dana leaning both elbows onto it, her eyes kind of glazing over as she watched Lady Leather work her magic on Slave Boy.
'He's kind of cute, huh?' she asked, pointing to Slave Boy.
I wouldn't know. I still had my hand covering my eyes. I gingerly peeked between my ring and pinky fingers. Of course, wouldn't you know that would be the moment that Lady Leather chose to do away with Slave Boy's leather pants. I felt myself blush all the way down to my blonde roots as I caught an unwanted glimpse of full frontal Slave Boy.
I grabbed Dana's arm. 'Ohmigod,' I said.
Dana licked her lips. 'I know. God, I miss Ricky.'
'No,' I shook my head. Not that Slave Boy didn't have an impressive… uh, package. But what had me grabbing Dana's arm like a vice grip was the fact that I recognized that package. It was the same one from Gisella's camera.
Slave Boy was Ryan Jeffries.
I left Dana upstairs to watch the rest of Ryan's scene while I walked back to the bar like a fish swimming the wrong way downstream. I'm pretty sure 90% of Club X's patrons would be going home with purple marks on their shins. I mumbled another, 'Sorry,' as I whacked a girl in three inch stilettos, fishnets and a black bodice, and deposited myself on a red velvet sofa to wait for Dana. Fifteen minute later she finally made an appearance, her eyes shining with an almost high look, one arm linked through Ryan's. Thankfully, he'd put the chaps back on, but I still felt myself flush as he and Dana sat down beside me.
'Maddie, you missed a great show,' Dana said.
'I'll bet,' I mumbled, avoiding eye contact with Ryan.
'Ryan, this is Maddie, the girl I was telling you about.'
'Hi,' he said. Then cocked his head to the side. 'Say, have we met before?'
I shook my head. Nope, I was fairly certain this guy I would have remembered.
He was tall, at least six feet, with pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. Now that he was fairly vertical it was obvious he had a lean, muscular model's physique. I could easily envision him strutting down a runway in Calvin Kleins. I put his age in his late twenties to early thirties, probably a little old for the runway circuit now. Which might explain his latest place of employment.
'You sure?' he asked. 'You look very familiar.'
I shook my head. 'Nope.'
Then recognition dawned in his blue yes. 'Wait, you're that designer that stabbed Gisella!'
'I didn't stab her. I swear. It's just a tabloid rumor.'
He narrowed his eyes at me, not totally convinced.
'I swear, I would never hurt anyone!' I looked up at his collar. 'Uh, I mean, I guess not that hurting someone is a bad thing. If they want to be hurt. Which clearly, you do. I mean, did. I mean, if you like that sort of thing. But I don't. I mean, I didn't. And definitely not Gisella and definitely not with a stiletto heel.'
Ryan just looked at me.
I cleared my throat. 'Um, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Gisella?'
I could tell he still had his reservations about me, but he nodded.
'Rumor has it you two were dating?'
'We were.'
'How long?'
'About three months.'
'And you went to Paris with her for Fashion Week?'
Again, he nodded again. 'Yes. I thought it would be a good opportunity to make some new contacts. Since hitting thirty, things have dried up a little for me. I flew in with her last Friday and stayed until…' he trailed off, looking down at his hands.
'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I know this must be hard on you.' When he didn't say anything, I plowed ahead. 'Can I ask, when was the last time you saw Gisella?'
He bit a lip, his eyes focusing on a point just beyond my head. 'Four nights ago? At her agent's party.'
I frowned. Angelica said she'd heard a male voiced the night after that. 'Are you sure? You didn't see her the following night?' I prompted.
He shook his head, a sad, faraway look in his eyes. 'No. The party was the last time I saw her. She broke it off
