“I see. And where is he tonight?”
She shrugged. “Working, or on a date. Who knows?”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
She smiled. “Not at all. We’re both independent. Sometimes we’re like ships passing in the night. Other times, we hang out.” She shrugged again. “Like I say, complicated. For others to understand, that is.”
The drinks came and they took a sip.
“So, what is it you look for in your boyfriends then?” he asked. “You’re obviously not having much luck.”
She chuckled, then ruminated for a moment. “Well, I’ll tell you what I don’t like: these vanilla guys.”
“Vanilla?”
“You know the type. All they want is monogamy, marriage, missionary and motherhood. Let me tell you, those are the four most boring words in the English language. Never say an M word to me.”
Chaney laughed. He was even more handsome when he did.
She stared at him with her best sultry eyes. “I have to say, you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me in months.”
“And what makes me interesting?”
“You’re the first decent conversation I’ve had in this town, to start. No offence to Dante, of course. He is beautiful to look at.”
Chaney laughed again. “So, what is your idea of fun?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, glancing around the club, before looking back at him. “Anything that gets my pulse racing. You?”
“Pulse racing is good.”
“I’m an artist,” she said, “who’s constantly looking for inspiration. If it’s been done before, I’m not interested. I like to seek existing boundaries and push right through them.”
“Pushing boundaries is good.” He raised his glass to hers. She reciprocated.
“I can see you like that,” she smiled. “That’s why I like this club. It’s…” she glanced around, then looked back to him, “sexy. It’s sophisticated. It’s private. It has an exclusive feel to it. Tick, tick, tick and tick.”
“It sounds like you’re a woman after my own heart.” His eyes shone in the dim lights as he sipped his drink again. The silence sat as they stared at each other.
“So,” she said, leaning forward on the table, “got any suggestions on what I can do for fun around here?”
“You’re not from here?”
She shook her head. “We moved from LA two months ago. I haven’t made many friends yet. I’m still learning the lay of the land here. So far it’s been… okay.”
“I’m sure we can do better than okay. This is San Francisco.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Well, if you’re the outdoors type, there’s sailing, you can climb–”
Salvi laughed. “Do I look like an outdoor sports kind of girl to you?”
He smiled.
“I’m an artist who likes to think outside the box. I need mental stimulation.”
“What kind of art?”
“I specialize in mixed media. The piece I’ve just finished is called Tech-Tronic.”
“And what is it about?”
“It speaks to the fallout from The Crash,” she replied, glancing about again. “About how these terrorists took away our liberties, how they forced us to surrender our neural tech, how we’re now prisoners because of this.”
“Prisoners?”
“Yeah. If I want to use neural tech and get out of my own headspace for a while, that’s my choice. Their attack forced the government to take away our choice. They’re keeping me prisoner from my choice of tech.”
He nodded. “And have you seen the news lately? What do you think about the tech that’s spilling out onto the streets now?”
“Well, I’m not across the whole thing, but these assholes need to be stopped.”
Chaney stared at her, sipping his drink.
“I mean,” Salvi said frankly, “the government isn’t going to drop these prohibitive laws with those idiots running around, are they? Using neural tech is no different from driving a racing car. You drive like an idiot, you’ll get hurt or hurt others. If you speed, but stay in control…” she smiled sexily, “it could be a wild ride.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said.
She glanced around his club. “So… who does your decorating? I like their style.”
“You looking for work?”
“Are you in need of a mixed-media artist?”
“I could be,” he smiled. “Not here, but one of my other clubs uses a lot of that stuff, art films and installations.”
“Please,” Salvi sat forward in her seat, “tell me more.”
“You should check out my club Floor to Ceiling.”
“Floor to Ceiling?” she said. “I went there a few nights ago. You own that too?”
He nodded. “Did you like it?”
“Not bad,” she shrugged. “I went there with my husband. We tried to fire things up a little, did some shots on the bar,” she laughed. “We got a little pulse happening, but…”
“But?”
“I’ve… had racier moments.”
“Which level did you obtain?”
“Which level?”
“Which floor did you drink on?”
She shrugged. “The first floor. We wanted to try the others but couldn’t get past the doorman. Said we needed some kind of pass or membership or something.” She chuckled. “I haven’t been back. I was a little offended that I didn’t make the cut. A friend in LA recommended the place, but…” she shrugged again. “Maybe I just hit the club on the wrong night or something. I prefer this place.”
“The first floor is for tourists,” he said. “The bars get more interesting the higher you go. The Ceiling is the place to be. That’s the point of it. It’s exclusive and you need to earn your way up the floors. Or at least have a friend on the inside that can get you there.”
“I see,” she said, then sipped her drink again, staring at him flirtily. “And do you know anyone that could help me get to higher ground and see what all the fuss is about?”
He smiled again, eyes shining, as he took another drink of his scotch.
“The owner could probably get you in there,” he said smoothly.
“Oh really?” She smiled playfully.
“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s not for everyone. It’s exclusive for a reason. We allow people to be free up there, away from prying eyes, away from the paparazzi. It’s somewhere they can truly relax and… enjoy themselves.”
“That sounds far from vanilla.”
“It is.”
“Okay... You have my interest.”
He studied her with twinkling eyes,
