3 Bad Guys Get Caught (16 page)

Once she left her table’s order with the
kitchen, Janet took a peek at the hostess stand. This was her chance; Mila had
stepped away, and Roman was all by himself. It was a long shot, but it was
better than no shot at all.

Janet sauntered over. “Hey there,
Roman.”

“Hello, Janet.” Normally Roman was much more
enthusiastic about seeing her, and now, his lukewarm response made her regret
threatening Roman’s manhood the day before.

“I know you’re busy, but I just wanted
to say that I thought about your offer about hosting, and if it still stands,
I’d like to take you up on it.”

“Oh, yeah? That’s great. Mila’s taking
another day off tomorrow, so I’ll need you to step in.”

“Yes, she told me. I’ll be glad to. If
there’s anything else you need me to help with, I’m always glad to lend a
hand.” Desperate, Janet lingered. What was she supposed to say? Hey, Roman, I
hear you’re in need of a hostess replacement for your uncle’s undercover escort
and drug procuring club, and I’ll be glad to offer my services? She was about
to walk away, when Roman stopped her.

“Janet, how would you like to earn a
little extra money?”

“I have to pay my rent every month, so
I’m always glad to make a little extra money.”

“Good. I’ve got another job that I could
use you on.” Roman paused, rubbing his chin. “There is another restaurant that
my uncle owns; it’s only for select clients. The hostess called in sick, and we
need a girl to fill in. Don’t worry—no funny business. All you’ll need to do is
smile and greet guests.”

“I can do that.”

“What time does your shift end tonight?”

“Midnight.”

“I’ll divide your tables between other
waitresses. Be ready to leave at eight o’clock, and don’t say anything to Mila
about this. I’ll deal with her.”

“Great.”

“Meet me outside of the service entrance
at eight o’clock, sharp.”

“I’ll be there.” Janet walked back to
take care of her table, hoping that the havoc inside her head was not
manifesting itself on her face.

The question that kept running through
her mind while Janet recited the ingredients of truffle stuffed pheasant to the
patrons at her table was what should she do next? The reasonable thing to do,
the right thing to do, was to call Ham and Dennis for backup. What if Roman
smelled a rat? Her only chance for payoff would be ruined. She always followed
the rules; in fact, it was something that Dennis had criticized her for at
times. There had to be some leeway, he liked to say, some room for
improvisation. So maybe it was time she took Dennis up on his advice.

As Janet placed the order with the
kitchen, her mind was made up; she was going to see this thing through, come
hell or high water. If things turned rough, she could stand up for herself
after all, Dennis did show her those self-defense moves and there was a bottle
of mace in her purse.

“You didn’t tell me you had a date with
Roman, you sly fox!” Mila caught Janet by surprise, while she was waiting for
Jason to mix the drinks for her table.

“I didn’t—” Janet stammered.

Mila raised her hand. “You won’t get a
lecture from me, sister. I say good for you. Congratulations! Just make sure
you get him to treat you right from the beginning. No home cooked meals and no
nights in. Make him take you around town. Sorry, Jason, it looks like you
missed your chance,” Mila threw over her shoulder as she walked away.

Jason looked up from his task. “You and
Roman?”

“It’s just one date,” Janet conceded,
guessing that Roman had used it as an excuse to conceal the real reason she’d
be getting off work at eight.

“I would’ve never thought.”

Janet shrugged. “He was very
persistent.”

“You just be careful out there, Janet.
Here’s my number, just in case.” Jason slid his card across the bar. “Take it,”
he added, noticing Janet’s hesitation.

“Thanks.” Janet picked up the card. It
read: Jason’s Cocktails: Libations for Special Occasions. Underneath was a
phone number.

“Just a little something I’m doing on
the side,” Jason explained. “Don’t tell anyone in this place though. I wouldn’t
want the management to sue me for using Panther’s cocktail recipes, not that I
would ever serve that junk to my clients.”

“I won’t. It’ll be our secret.” Janet
smiled, tucking Jason’s card into her pocket. Somehow, she felt much better for
having it.

At eight o’clock sharp, Janet made her
way to the service entrance, just as Roman had instructed her. He was already
there, waiting for her.

“Great, you’re right on time,” he
observed in a businesslike tone. “Shall we?”

“Yes.” Janet followed him, her
confidence suddenly sinking. What the hell was she doing? For all she knew
Roman could strangle her right then and there and hide her body in Panther’s
freezer.

“Oh, and Janet, I hope you won’t take it
the wrong way about me telling Mila that we had a date,” Roman added, as though
sensing her tension. “I’m sorry about the way I acted before. I can see now
that you’re not like Mila or the rest of the girls at the restaurant who are
only too eager to jump on a guy as long as he’s got money.”

Janet didn’t know any of the girls at
the restaurant who’d be “eager to jump” on Roman, but she decided that right
now was not the best time to contradict him.

“Most guys in my place would be pissed,
but I’m man enough to move past it. Now, we can both help each other out.
You’ll make some extra cash, and I’ll get out of a bind. It goes without saying
that I don’t want my brother to know anything about this, so let’s keep this
between us.”

“Of course. I understand.” Janet kept
her response short for fear of her voice trembling.

“It was real classy the way you handled
that Libby guy yesterday. He’s a real big shot, and you knew that right away.
The place where you’re going to work tonight will be filled with people like
that. So I need you to be extra nice to them.”

“Got that. I’ll put on my brightest
smile.”

“Great. Oh, I almost forgot.” Roman
handed Janet four one hundred dollar bills. “You’ll get the other half at the
end of the night.”

Janet followed Roman along the length of
the building until he stopped in front of a utilitarian metal door, the kind of
door that usually leads to service entrances. On the door was an electronic
lock, and Roman punched in a complicated sequence. He opened the door a crack
(the door turned out to be much thicker than it looked when closed) and
motioned for Janet to go inside what looked to be a cluttered storage room.
Almost every inch of the concrete floor was crowded with huge cardboard boxes,
random pieces of furniture wrapped in plastic, and more cardboard boxes.

“This way,” said Roman. He navigated
through the narrow spaces between the boxes and led Janet to the far wall of
the room. There was another metal door with another electronic lock that Roman
opened. “Watch your step,” Roman cautioned her, as he flipped on the switch,
and a solitary light bulb revealed a steep staircase leading down.

It was so quiet that Janet could hear
the clicking of her heels as she followed Roman down the stairs, holding on to
the railings for dear life. At the bottom of the stairs there was another set
of doors which Roman opened, ushering her into an anteroom separated by a thick
set of black drapes.

When Roman parted the drapes, Janet felt
as though she had been transported to one of Las Vegas’s swankiest casinos. The
walls were covered with thick maroon upholstery and lush carpeting covered the
floor that offered gambling tables for every taste: roulette, black jack, and
craps, with more options in the back of the room which Janet couldn’t yet make
out. On the left side was a bar with spirits of all kinds and varieties
displayed on the shelves along the wall. There was a dining area next to the
bar with intimate looking tables lit by shaded lamps. Except for the bartender
who was busy polishing the glasses at the bar and three people tidying the game
tables in the back of the room, the place was empty.

“We don’t open until nine,” Roman
explained.

“This place looks great,” Janet
observed, her heart beating like a trapped bird. “Thanks for letting me earn
some extra cash. I can really use it.”

“You’re welcome, but I have to warn you
that it won’t be easy money.”

“I wasn’t counting on it.” Just then,
Janet saw a woman walking towards them. She was in her mid-twenties with blond
shoulder-length hair, long legs, and heavily made-up face. She was dressed in a
very short skirt that exposed her gartered stockings, and a lace corset that
left her large breasts bouncing out in the open. Janet bit her lip; Roman’s
warning just acquired a whole new meaning.

“What’s that I hear about us being short
a hostess today?” the woman asked, glowering at Roman and ignoring Janet. She
spoke with an accent, similar to Mila’s, but a much heavier version. “If you
think I’m going to host, you can forget it. I already have my hands full with
the game tables.”

“Don’t worry, Regina. Janet is going to
do the hosting tonight. Why don’t you show her to the dressing room so she
could change?”

“How are you?” Regina asked, her tone making
it clear that she couldn’t care less about the answer. “Come on, the dressing
room is in the back.”

“Thanks.” Janet followed Regina on
wobbling legs; right now calling Dennis for back up felt like a very good idea.

“Don’t worry, the hostess dress isn’t
topless,” Regina assured her. “I think you and Marina are about the same size.
It might be a bit big in the chest though.” Regina handed Janet a midnight blue
sequined gown. “Try it on.”

Janet tried not to look squeamish as she
slipped out of her dress with Regina standing right there. The gown’s sequins
brushed like fish scales against her skin as she put it on.

“Fits like a glove in the hips,” Regina
observed.

“I’ll need a strapless bra,” Janet
added, pointing at the dress’s halter top.

“You’ll need a bigger set of boobs to
fill out this dress,” Regina added.

Janet had never lacked in the boobs
department, but the previous owner of the dress was extremely well endowed.

Regina rummaged through a chest of
drawers that stood against the wall, producing a strapless bra. “This should
help. It’s got lots of padding.”

Janet undid the halter and put on the
bra.

“Here, let me help you tie it.” Regina
pulled up the halter ties to compensate for the empty space. “Looks like we’re
in business,” she added.

Janet surveyed her reflection in the
dusty mirror on the wall. With Regina’s help, the dress now looked like it was
almost the right fit.

“Just fix your makeup and you’ll be good
to go,” Regina added. “Oh, and the shoes.” She held up a pair of navy sequined
stilettos.

Janet squeezed her feet into the shoes
and flinched, instantly feeling her toes squashed. “What size are these?”

“An eight, I think.”

“I’m a nine. Can’t I wear my own shoes?”
Janet threw a longing glance at her pumps.

“House rules require uniforms. Now fix
your face and we’ll go back upstairs. It’ll be opening time soon.”

Janet directed her attention to the
mirror. She had refreshed her makeup before leaving Panther, but apparently the
requirement was to cake it on like Regina. At least Janet had her own makeup
with her; it was bad enough that she was wearing someone else’s dress and
brassiere. She applied a generous serving of blush, rimmed her eyes with black
eyeliner, and added three extra coats of mascara, topping it all off with a
hefty coat of mauve lipstick. “How’s that?”

“Better,” Regina conceded. Of course
compared to Regina’s fake eyelashes, eye shadow extravaganza, and a thick layer
of foundation, Janet looked like an amateur. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Upstairs was still empty, except for the
employees: four girls outfitted in attire similar to Regina’s and five men
dressed in black pants, black shirts, and black jackets. While the men were
busy organizing the felt-covered game tables, their bulging muscles made it
clear that dealing wasn’t their primary occupation.

Roman eyed Janet from head to toe.
“Looking good, Janet. I mean that in a strictly professional sense of the
word,” he added hurriedly. “Let me show you to your station.”

Janet followed Roman to the hostess
stand. It was right across from the black drapes that marked the entrance into
the casino. Two very tall, very bulky, bald-headed men stood on either side of
the drapes.

“That’s Ivan and Boris,” Roman made the
introductions, and the two men nodded.

Janet nodded back, deciding it was best
to keep her interactions with those two to a minimum. “I would’ve never guessed
that this place was here,” Janet said to Roman, her eyes wide open with
admiration.

“That’s the idea,” Roman smirked. “We
wouldn’t want the cops barging in here.”

“Why would the cops barge in here?”
Janet batted her eyelashes.

Roman looked at her as though she had
two heads. “Because we don’t have a gaming license, that’s why.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you needed one,”
Janet said in her most naïve voice. As long as Roman believed that she was a
complete ditz, she was safe.

“Yeah, you do. That’s part of the
appeal. The people who come here can afford to go anywhere they want, but they
love the danger of it, this living on the edge crap.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It is, but it is hard work keeping it
going. We need to be very careful. Usually Anton runs this place, but he’s away
for the next few days, and I’m doing double duty filling in for him and
managing Panther. I was in a tight spot when the hostess called in sick today;
thanks for helping me out.”

“Thanks for letting me earn some extra
cash. I hope to do it again sometime.”

“I just might need you to fill in
tomorrow. I’ll let you know. Like I said, I don’t want anyone to know about
this.”

“My lips are sealed.” Janet pouted for
emphasis.

“Now, this is what you have to do: this
place is invitation only. Regular clients have a card that looks like this.”
Roman produced a plastic card from his pocket. It was the size of a credit
card; the color of emerald green, it didn’t have any markings on it. “We had
the color customized, so that the no one could fake it,” he added proudly.
“Sometimes we’ll extend an invitation to a new client: they’ll have a card like
this one.” Roman held up a card of the same size, but made of paper and
charcoal gray in color.

“Got it,” Janet said. Her toes were
starting to go numb in those merciless shoes, and her boobs were starting to
sweat underneath all that padding, but she soaked in Roman’s instructions like
a sponge. Finally, she’d hit the jackpot, and she couldn’t wait to tell Dennis.
Why, it was possible that Libby himself might stroll in that very night to play
a few rounds of roulette.

“To get in here, they have to first show
the card to the bouncers upstairs—”

“The bouncers stand outside the entrance
to let the clients in? Wouldn’t that attract attention?”

“You’re a clever one, aren’t you?”

“Sorry, just trying to help.”

“Don’t you worry, we already thought of
that. The bouncers are on the inside. Once the client taps the card against the
chip in the door, the guard sees it on his screen. He then knows to open the
door. Of course if someone who wasn’t supposed to get their hands on the card
got a hold of it, the guards would take care of that. All of our bouncers are
former Special Forces,” Roman added proudly. “So that there’re no crowds, each
client has an assigned time at which to come.”

“Wow!” Janet exclaimed with admiration,
committing all the details to memory.

“So, once the clients come up here, they
have to show the cards to you too. Then you walk them to their table. If they
happen to be some big shot, be sure to be extra nice to them.”

“Is there a seating plan, like we have
in Panther?”

Roman shook his head. “We don’t take
names here. That’s why it’s important to know who’s important to give them better
tables.”

“What if someone important shows up
after we gave away the better tables?”

“That’s why you fill the crappy tables
first, just like we do at Panther.”

“Right.” Janet nodded.

Roman checked his watch. “Almost nine
o’clock.”

Janet bated her breath, eager to get a
glimpse of the first arrivals. Any minute now they’d be walking in.

A few minutes passed, but no one walked
in. Janet looked at Roman. “No one is coming.”

“Don’t you worry, they’ll come.”

Just then, the drapes parted, revealing
the first guests: a man in his mid-fifties and a young woman half his age. The
man was holding two cards in his hand: a green one and a black one. He
cautiously eyed Ivan and Boris who nodded for him to go ahead.

“Good evening. Welcome,” Janet said,
suddenly realizing that she didn’t even know the name of the establishment.

“Thank you.” The man smiled nervously,
adjusting his tie.

Janet thought she might have seen his
face in one of the business magazines, but she couldn’t remember exactly.

“I told you that we were too early,” the
young girl complained. “You’re always such a square, George.”