proper, and maybe it starts out as a big, liberated adventure before settling, at some point along the way, into being a grind.
Because it must have. Not just because taking your clothes off for money in front of rooms full of rowdy drunks must lose its charm awfully quickly, even if you’ve got a friend along for the ride, but also because we knew that somewhere along the way the friends had split up. They may have been a sister act in New Mexico, but Miranda was working solo by the time she got to New York.
Or did I know that? No – the truth was, I didn’t know any of this. Maybe they were still together when she arrived in New York and only split up later. Maybe the stripping didn’t start right out of Rianon and only began when the cash ran out along the road. All sorts of scenarios were possible. But as I thought through them one by one, a picture began to emerge. Anything was possible, but some things were more likely than others. Initially, for instance, I’d been thinking only of Miranda as having turned to stripping, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized this wasn’t the way it must have happened. Miranda had followed Jocelyn’s lead in so many things – she wouldn’t have been the one to initiate this.
And that gave me a thread to pull on. Two college girls working their way east starting in 1996, two twenty- yearold, Rianon-educated blondes coming to work at the same clubs at the same time, if not outright working in tandem – that was the sort of thing people might remember even seven years later.
Assuming I could get the right people on the phone. Now the question was, who did I know with contacts in the strip club business? There was Wayne Lenz, but I didn’t see him doing me any favors. There was Murco Khachadurian.
And then there was Susan.
My friend was behind the bar again at the Derby. Maybe he did own the place, or maybe he just liked working lots of hours. He eyed me with a certain amount of suspicion that he made no effort to disguise.
“She’s not here,” he said.
“I didn’t think she would be. But I told her that if I needed to get in touch with her, I’d leave a message with you.”
“I know,” he said. “She checked yesterday to see if you’d left one.”
“She look okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I just want to know she’s okay.”
“No sign she wasn’t,” he said.
“No need to jump down my throat,” I said.
“Young man, I don’t like you hanging around here. I told you that the last time I saw you, and I meant it.”
Young man. No one had called me that for a while.
“I wasn’t planning to hang around. I’d just been planning to ask you to tell her I’d been by. But maybe I should. If she came by yesterday, she’ll probably come again today.”
“If you’re going to hang around, it’s not going to be in my bar. You can do what you like on the street.”
“I’ll pay for my drinks,” I said.
“Not here you won’t, because you won’t be served any.”
We stared each other down for a bit while I got my temper under control. This wasn’t Zen’s, but it’s never good to get into shoving matches, especially when you can’t see the other man’s hands. Somewhere along the way, Keegan’s had dropped behind the bar.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll wait outside.”
“That’s your privilege.”
I stepped out into the street, buttoned my jacket collar against the cold. I wished I’d brought gloves, but I hadn’t thought of it. I stuck my hands in my pockets instead.
Through the window, I saw Keegan – if that’s who he was – watching me. He lifted a phone receiver from the wall behind him, dialed a number, and after a moment started talking. He didn’t take his eyes off me.
Who was he calling? It only hit me after a minute, and then I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. Who would he be calling? How many people would have an interest in knowing that some man was hanging around bothering the Sin Factory girls? Maybe Keegan did keep his place open nights out of a feeling of paternal kindness toward the girls; on the other hand, maybe it was an arrangement he had with the club’s management. Either way, he’d be bound to have some sort of relationship with Lenz. More of one, at least, than he had with me.
And that answered a question that should have been bothering me but hadn’t been: How had Roy known where to find me the night he’d given me his “warning”? Someone must have tipped him or Lenz off when I left the Derby, and watching Keegan on the phone now, I didn’t have much doubt as to who it had been.
Which made walking away the smart thing for me to do now. But there was a problem with that. If Keegan had told Lenz he’d seen me talking to Susan, she might be in danger, too. And even if she wasn’t, I needed to talk to her, and leaving messages at the bar was no longer an option.
It was a few minutes to six, but there was no way of knowing when she would come by today, or even whether she would. The only person I could be confident would be showing up soon was the man who’d come close to putting me in the hospital two days ago.
It was already as dark as the night would get, but it was still close to rush hour, so the street was full. Cars were jostling to beat each other to the next red light, and the pedestrians on the sidewalk were doing the equivalent.
But there were lulls in the flow of the crowd, and during one of them I spotted Roy. He was coming casually from the direction of the club, wearing a duster-style leather overcoat over corduroys and a tan shirt. He’d been smarter than I had: he’d remembered his gloves.
When he was half a block away, he saw me standing in front of the Derby. He didn’t walk any faster, or for that matter any slower.
I looked back over my shoulder, and almost missed her – but then I realized who the woman was with her hand on Keegan’s door and one foot inside the bar.
“Susan.” I grabbed her arm and steered her away from the bar. Now, when I glanced back over my shoulder, Roy seemed to be moving faster. “Come with me.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you later, just keep moving.”
“John!” She pushed my hand off her arm and stopped dead. “What’s going on?”
I started to say something, but it was too late. Roy was pushing through the last of the crowd separating us from him. We wouldn’t be able to outrun him – and if we tried, if Susan turned and ran with me, it would be the same as announcing she was on my side against them.
“Yell at me,” I whispered.
“What?” she said.
“I grabbed you. Just do it.”
Then Roy was beside us.
Chapter 12
“Get your fucking hands off me,” Susan said.
“This guy bothering you?” Roy said. He took hold of my arm.
“I’m trying to go in, he grabs me.”
“We’ve had trouble with him before,” Roy said. He turned to me. “Haven’t we?”
What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t take another beating. And that was assuming a beating was all Roy had in mind this time. “No,” I said, “there’s no trouble.”
“So why’re you pawing the ladies, man? You can’t do that.” His grip tightened, and even through the padding of his glove and my coat, it hurt. “We’re going to need to have a little talk.”
“It was a mistake,” I said. “I thought she was someone else.” I winced as he squeezed harder. Over his shoulder, I saw Susan’s face go pale. She started going through her purse.
