'Hi, Adan,' I said. 'You're welcome. I'll send the bill to your father.'
He laughed, and it echoed around the table, though the posse probably had no idea what I was talking about. Gothtard didn't laugh. He just stared at me and brooded dangerously.
'I've never seen you here before,' Adan said. 'Do you come here often?' Then, laughing, 'Jesus, I can't believe I just said that.'
I'd planned to play the tough girl and outbrood Gothtard, but I found myself laughing, too, because Adan's dark eyes sparkled and because he had the tiniest little dimples in an otherwise classically sculpted face.
He introduced the posse-Edward, Louis, Armand, Elvira, Wednesday Addams, yada yada yada. I nodded, smiled and then politely ignored them.
Adan sat back down and turned to Gothtard. 'Manfred, can you pour the champagne?' The intensity of his brooding deepened momentarily, but he slid out of the booth to do the honors.
'Thanks, Fred,' I said, and took his seat beside Adan.
'It is Manfred,' he growled. He had a cute little German accent, probably affected. I nodded absently and turned to Adan.
'Anyway, no, this is my first time here,' I said. Fred handed him the first glass of Cristal, and he passed it to me. Fred scowled and I smiled.
'And what do you think of the Cannibal Club?' he asked. He took the next glass from Fred and nodded politely.
'It's growing on me.'
Adan grinned, flashing those dimples again, and we touched glasses. 'So what brings you here?'
I waited until Fred finished pouring the champagne and wedged himself in at the other end of the booth, and then I stood up. 'I want to dance.'
'That works,' Adan said and laughed. I could feel Fred brooding as we made our way to the dance floor.
I know gangsters who use their magic to dance. I even know the spell. It's actually a variant of a nonlethal compulsion that neutralizes an opponent, with the secondary benefit of making him look goofy. You cast the spell on yourself, relax your body, and with the help of a little juice, you literally let the music move you.
That's just weak. Using magic for parking spots and prompt bar service is one thing, and I'll admit to using my purification magic in ways that will keep me away from cosmetic surgeons indefinitely. But I draw the line at using it for sexy dancing. As far as I'm concerned, that's just cheating. Maybe it's nothing more than a different brand of vanity, but whatever sexiness I've got is all-natural, baby. Mostly.
In fairness to the weak-ass sorcerers who use the spell, club dancing does present a bit of a dilemma. If you really have no idea what you're doing, you'll look like an idiot. But if you try too hard, you'll look like you're trying too hard, and you'll still look like an idiot. The key is to look like you have no idea what you're doing, but sexy just comes naturally to you.
Out on the floor, I did my best to still my body, mind and soul and settle into this Zenlike state of nondancing dancing sexiness. I probably looked like an idiot. Mostly, I just held on to Adan and hoped no one would notice me.
As I moved against my boss's son, I reviewed what I'd learned so far. First, the Goths in Adan's posse were all normal humans, unremarkable but for their poor fashion sense. All except Fred, who was the genuine article. Judging by how much black juice was oozing from his undead hide, he had to be at least five hundred years old.
Adan, of course, was the source of the magic I'd picked up from the bar. Not him, exactly, but his accessories. The small gold hoop in his left ear, the star pendant hanging from a slender chain around his neck, a ring, his Rolex-all of it radiated first-class juice, mostly protective magic, and I recognized it immediately as his father's.
As for Adan himself, well, the parts of his incredible body I could feel were lean, toned and hard, and I could feel most of them. Other than that, there wasn't much to talk about. He had a little juice, about what you'd expect from a young man. He wasn't a sorcerer.
After about ten minutes of dancing, I dropped a sound-dampening spell around us. The music faded into the background. Adan's eyes widened and he smiled. 'Are you trying to impress me, Domino?'
'Of course,' I said. 'Adan, you know Fred is a vampire, right?'
He nodded. 'Yeah, I met him here at the club. He's never tried to, you know, fang me or anything.'
'How long have you known him?'
'A few months. Really, he's nothing to worry about. He's a little weird, I guess, but you know, he's just a guy at the club.'
What did that mean? He's just a guy at the club as in I don't swing that way and he's not any competition for you? Or, he likes me and promised not to drain my blood until my heart stops?
'Okay,' I said finally. 'You're a big boy…I guess you can choose your own friends.'
Adan laughed. Dimples were brandished disarmingly.
'So you like this Goth, emo, industrial scene-whatever they're calling it now?' I asked. 'It doesn't really seem like your style.'
He shrugged. 'It's okay. I go to other clubs, too. I feel like a loser if I hang around Dad's strip clubs too much.' Touche.
'Adan, I heard one of our guys had started coming here, kid named Jamal. You ever see him?'
Adan nodded. 'He started coming in about a month ago. I hang out with him sometimes. Manfred doesn't like him, but Manfred doesn't really like anyone. Anyway, Jamal seems pretty cool.'
'Who else did he hang out with? Did you ever see him with anyone that looked, I don't know, out of place?'
Adan's brow furrowed. 'He leaves with women sometimes, I guess. A lot of gangsters hang out here, so Jamal didn't stick out as much as you'd think.'
'Really? This is a gangster hangout?'
'Yeah, mostly Papa Danwe's guys. You know him?'
This detective stuff was easy. 'Yeah, I've heard of him.'
'A lot of them hang out here. They all seem to know Manfred-at least the big guy does.'
'The big guy? Do you know his name?'
Adan shook his head. 'I don't know him, but I think he's like a captain or whatever. Like you, I guess. He comes in here the most, sometimes by himself and sometimes with others. Anyway, he's black and just a really big dude.'
There was one gangster in Papa Danwe's outfit who matched that description pretty well. Terrence Cole, one of Papa Danwe's lieutenants. He was the kind of guy who made a lasting impression.
'Did you ever see Jamal talking to this guy-or any of Papa Danwe's boys?'
'No, other than the girls and when he was hanging out with me, Jamal mostly kept to himself.'
I guess that would have been too easy. 'Okay. Thanks, Adan, this is really helpful.'
'Why are you asking? Is Jamal in some kind of trouble?'
I decided not to tell him, at least not yet. If his father wanted him to know about outfit business, he could tell Adan himself. He'd eventually hear about it anyway. I changed the subject.
'Do you have a girlfriend?' I groaned inwardly. It had been the first thing that came to mind.
'No. I did in college, but it didn't work out. It's hard to find someone, you know?'
I nodded.
'What about you?' Adan asked. 'Boyfriend? Is there a Mr. Domino?'
I smiled and shook my head. 'The only guys I meet are gangsters. It's hard to find someone to bring home to Momma.'
He laughed, tilting his head back so the strobes danced in his liquid-brown eyes. 'Does your mom know what you do?'
'Yeah, she's always known. She's just glad I have a job.'
'She probably worries about you. You're her baby girl. This line of work, it's gotta freak her out.'
I shrugged. I didn't tell him my mom was a fortune-teller, a good one. Mom probably knew more about my life and my future than I wanted to think. Then again, maybe not-the fortune-telling game is notoriously unreliable, even for Mom.
