At that moment the only important thing in my world was Willow.
I had to meet her, had to have her!
It was a case of fuck Willow or go insane.
Now that I’ve made my conquest and cheated Bobby Mitchell out of killing me for fucking his girlfriend, I’m recharged, rejuvenated, and ready to head back to Manhattan to save some more lives.
I fire up the rental car and wonder how many of the kids I save will grow up to be like Shelby, and how many will grow up to be Willows or Camerons? How many will grow up to be Bobby Mitchells, Chuckies, or Dr. Gideon Boxes, for that matter? As long as the kids I save turn out better than me, I’m earning my keep.
I fish the two thick envelopes from the side pocket of my suit jacket and look at them. Each envelope contains sixty hundreds. My plane isn’t scheduled to leave for hours, so I’ll swing by the strip club and leave these envelopes for Willow and Cameron. It should more than cover what I owe, including the blow I forgot to flush down the toilet.
The club looks twice as filthy by day, and there are two cars parked by the front door. I go inside and hear a vacuum cleaner running, but it’s so dark I can’t see who’s operating it. I stand in the doorway and wait for my eyes to adjust.
The vacuum cleaner stops.
From across the room a woman’s voice hollers, “Sir? We don’t open till four.”
“Is the manager in?” I yell.
“Hang on a sec,” she says.
By the time the manager comes out, my eyes are working again.
“What can I do for you?” he says.
“If I give you something to hold for two of your dancers, will they get it?”
He sizes me up.
“You’re the guy from last night.”
I don’t respond.
He says, “Willow and Cameron.”
I shrug.
He says, “You can’t see the girls outside the club.”
“I know. I’m leaving town and wanted to give them a gift.”
He holds his hand out. “Give it to me, I’ll see they get it.”
Something in his manner tells me the girls will never see the money, and something in his look makes me very uncomfortable. I hear the roar of a motorcycle outside, and realize I’m standing in a strip club holding two envelopes containing twelve thousand in cash, and no one on earth knows I’m here.
“That’s okay,” I say. “I’ll give it to them next time.”
“You sure about that?”
As I turn to leave, the door opens and Bobby Mitchell walks in.
Knowing it’ll take a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, I shield my face and try to work my way around him.
Maybe it’s the lifestyle, but Bobby’s eyes have no problem adjusting to the light.
“Whoa,” he says, putting an arm out to stop me. You’re the guy from last night.”
“Nice to see you again,” I say, noting my voice sounds like I’m twelve years old again, in the shower with Joe and his piss buddies.
Bobby says, “What the fuck’re you doing here?”
“You mentioned the place last night, thought I’d check it out.”
“In the middle of the morning?”
“I wanted to get the feel of the place. Maybe come back tonight.”
Bobby looks at the manager. “Does that make sense to you, Gary?”
Gary says, “He came in last night. Bought a dozen lap dances from two of the girls.”
“A dozen each?”
“All together.”
“Which two?”
My eyes search the immediate area for any type of weapon I can use against this beastly man, but nothing looks remotely possible.
“Ask him,” Gary says.
Bobby moves closer. He’s practically on top of me. There’s no way out of this.
“Which two girls?” Bobby says.
“Uh, Cameron?” I say.
“Cameron?”
“I might not have her name right.”
Bobby glances at Gary. “Was Stringbean one of them?”
He nods.
Bobby turns back to me. So you bought a dozen lap dances from Cameron and another girl?”
I nod.
He says, “Which other girl?”
10
Willow and Cameron.
Friday, 1:15 p.m.
Willow and Cameron pay no attention to the dark Lexus till it turns into Chris Fowler’s driveway.
As the garage door opens, the girls snap to attention.
“Wrong car!” Willow says.
“Are you sure he was driving a Mercedes?”
“Positive.”
“We did a couple of lines, remember.”
“True. And it was dark.” She frowns. “It was definitely a luxury sedan.”
Cameron says, “I think you’re right about the Mercedes. Could they own three cars?”
The Lexus enters the garage, and they watch the door close behind it.
“They’re pretty rich,” Willow says. “The house has to be at least seven-fifty. And they’ve got a three-car garage. It’s possible.”
“So Chris isn’t here?”
“Unless she picked him up.”
“Maybe we should just forget it,” Cameron says.
“Are you kidding me? I’m already in deep shit with Bobby. If I don’t bring home nine hundred-sixty bucks, he’ll kill me.”
Cameron shakes her head. “You’re so pretty. And smart. You shouldn’t have to put up with that shit.”
“Tell Bobby, okay?”
“He’s abusive.”
“Ya think?”
They’re quiet a moment.
Willow says, “Let’s bring this thing to a head.”
“What do you mean?”
“Follow my lead.”
They get out of the car, walk to the front door, ring the bell.
A woman opens the door and says, “May I help you?”
Willow says, “You’re Kathy? Chris Fowler’s wife?”
“Yes. How can I help you?”
