Last Diner Standing (3 page)

He frowned and rubbed his head. “What are you doing, Rose? A man’s hair is his pride, girl.”

“What about Janelle? Can you post bail?”

“How much does she need?”

“Could be up to fifteen thousand.”

“Sorry, man. I don’t have that kind of money.”

“What about your cousin, Sondra? Can she put up her house or something?”

He scoffed. “Sondra doesn’t own her house. She rents.”

Damn. “So what are we going to do about Janelle?”

“I don’t know, man. But if she whacked Asshat, he deserved it.”

“Nobody’s been whacked. He’s just comatose.” For now anyway.

My phone vibrated. I looked at the number and my heart stuttered.

Sullivan.

Chapter 3

Thomas Malcolm Sullivan. Criminal numero uno in Huntingford. The man who held markers on the most powerful people in town, including the police chief, Martin Mathers.

Despite the cold, my hands felt clammy as I grasped the phone in one hand. I hadn’t seen Sullivan in five weeks, even though he’d called seven times and sent flowers twice. At first, our conversations were short and to the point, but the last two times, we’d spoken for almost half an hour. We never discussed anything too personal, at least he didn’t. Now every time I saw his name on my screen, my pulse sped up.

“Hello.”

“I hear you’re missing a car,” he said.

I stepped away from Roxy and Tariq. “Good news travels fast.”

“Do you need a ride?” His voice was smooth and rich, like that first cup of coffee early in the morning. My brain went to a whole different kind of ride and got stuck there for a moment.

“Well, I do have band practice after school and an appointment with my orthodontist.”

“I’ll take that as a no. How’ve you been holding up?”

“I’m fine and frankly getting pretty tired of people asking me that question every five minutes. I’m not made of glass. I won’t break.”

Nothing from his end. He liked to pull that crap, long pauses and dramatic silences to make the other person talk first. I waited him out. But I did glance at my phone twice to make sure he hadn’t hung up.  

“If you need anything,” he finally said.

“Thanks.” I shoved the phone in my pocket and turned to Tariq and Roxy. He fingered her lacy headband while she giggled.   

“Tariq, do you know anyone who’s selling a car?” I asked.

He dropped his hand like he’d burned it and his demeanor changed. Gone was the flirtatious, smooth ladies’ man and in its place was a businessman who sized me up as a potential customer. “Maybe. What type of car you looking for?”

“One that won’t get me pulled over for grand theft auto.”

He stroked his jaw. “How much you want to pay?”

“A couple hundred.”

He started laughing hysterically. “Shit, Rose. You’re funny.” Tears filled his eyes. “A couple hundred.”

I waited until he sobered a bit. “What can you tell me about Asshat? And what’s his real name anyway?”

He wiped his eyes. “Sheik.”

I blinked. “Sheik? Sheik Johnson? Really? Who else would want to bash him on the head besides Janelle?”

“How about all his women? All his friends? All his family? Pretty much anyone who’s ever met the dude.”

Asshat sounded like a real charmer. “What do you mean ‘all his women?’ I thought he only dated Chicken Licker.” She of the infamous eating-a-drumstick-while-getting-it-on-in-Janelle’s-bed incident.

Roxy popped her gum. “I thought he was dating someone named Flat Ass for a while.”

Janelle was going to have to start using real names instead of physical descriptions.

“Yeah, he fu…dates a lot. He was living with Chicken Licker for a while. But she kicked his ass to the curb.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Hell if I know,” Tariq said.

I dug a pen and small note pad from my purse. “Okay, Tariq, names please. Let’s start with Chicken Licker.”

“Destiny Lee. She works at The Bottom Dollar off South Birchwood. Asshat dates a lot of strippers.”

“What’s Sondra’s number and address?” He told me and I jotted it down. “Any other names you want to give me? What about Roshanda?”

“Asshat’s sister? I know she lives down by Oakwood Elementary, but I don’t have her address or anything.”

“Do you know who else Asshat was dating? Or Flat Ass’s name?”

He sighed. “I don’t keep track of his social life.” His eyes took in Roxy, from her platform Mary Janes to her blue hair. “I’m thinking about my own extra-curriculars.”

Tariq fenced stolen crap and Roxy used to be a juvenile delinquent. She still missed the thrill of taking things that weren’t strictly hers, so I wondered at the wisdom of this Tariq/Roxy matchup. It had fire and gasoline written all over it.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket and glanced at the gloomy sky once more. I was going to have to invest in some gloves.

“Thanks, Tariq.” I tugged on Roxy’s sleeve. “Call me if you think of anything that can help Janelle.” I pulled her toward the car and we waved at Tariq as I peeled out.

“Want to hit the strip club?” I asked. “I have just enough time before I have to get ready for my parents’ party.”

“Yep,” Roxy said. “So what are these Strickland shindigs like, anyway? Fancy food you can’t pronounce and champagne?”

“Pony kegs and beer bongs all the way.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I can picture your mom with a funnel tube in her mouth. Seriously, are they any fun at all?”

“Not even a little.”

The Bottom Dollar lived down to its hype. A shithole on the wrong side of town with painted windows and a silhouette of a naked woman on the sign. In its former life it had probably been an Italian restaurant, judging from the terra cotta tile floor and the fake stucco walls now painted bright purple.

The bouncer at the door sized us up, his glance lingering on Roxy. “Like the outfit. You here to audition for Freddy?”

“Yeah, where can we find him?” I asked.

He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. After we walked past him, Roxy glared in my direction.

“Audition?”

“Your stripper name could be Sailor Moon.”

She scowled. “We don’t joke about Sailor Moon, Rose. That’s sacred.”

“Sorry.”

We moved farther into the darkened club. Loud hip hop beat at us from all sides, pulsing its way into my head as a DJ near the stage yelled incoherently into a microphone. Blue and purple glow-in-the-dark swirls covered the carpet, and the place reeked of booze and stale sweat.

The room was two-thirds full of men, all staring at the woman on stage like dieters watching a burger commercial.  

I was a little spellbound myself. I nudged Roxy’s arm. “Look at her abs. You could bounce a quarter off that six- pack.”

“It’s takes a lot of muscle to work a pole.”

Before I could question her further, a man with a faux hawk stepped out of nowhere. “Hey, I’m Freddy Libra.” He wiped a finger under his nose. “You here to audition?” He wore a long-sleeved shiny shirt, the kind I thought they stopped making in the eighties.

“I’m looking for Destiny.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder. I stared at it until he removed it. “Why you looking for Des?”

“I’m her cousin. Our aunt’s in the hospital. Thought she’d like to know.”

He motioned for us to follow him to a tiny office. He closed the door, which muted the music, but the pounding bass still reverberated through me.

“I didn’t know Des had family.” He pointed to two cheap folding chairs and took a seat behind a metal desk. Roxy and I remained standing.

“We’re distant cousins,” I said.

Freddy wasn’t unattractive with his dark hair and eyes, but he was sleazy. His gaze kept straying from our faces to our boobs.

“You’d do well here, Blue. Get some little nurse’s outfit or something. You could pull down some serious cash.”

Roxy smacked her gum. “Not interested.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned his eyes on me. “What about you, Princess? You got little ones, but we could dress you like a school girl. Get you a plaid skirt and some knee socks.”

“I need to talk to Destiny.”

“If you’re her cousin, why are you calling her Destiny instead of Crystal?”

Roxy raised a brow. “Professional courtesy?”

Was Crystal her real name? Seemed like another alias to me. Chicken Licker, Destiny, Crystal. In real life, she was probably something boring like Jane Smith.

“What do you really want with Crystal?” Freddy asked.

Two things I’d learned from Sullivan: stay cool and keep quiet. Whatever you do, don’t get defensive and don’t start blurting out crap. Of course when I was with Sullivan, that worked more in theory than in practice.

“I told you, our aunt’s in the hospital,” I said.

“Crystal’s not here,” he said. “I’d try her at home.”

“We’ll do that,” I said. “By the way, where’s the restroom?”

Freddy stood. “Down the hall and to the right. I’ll tell Crys you were looking for her. What was your name again?”

“Jane Smith.”

I shot Roxy a look as we left the office and walked farther down the hall and into the bathroom. I wanted a chance to talk things over with her. We needed to question the strippers, but I didn’t want to have to pay for the privilege. 

The woman who’d been on stage stepped out of a stall. She wore a short flowery robe and eight-inch heels. Her long brown hair benefitted from hair extensions and her melon-sized breasts were so firm and round, they couldn’t possibly be a gift from Mother Nature.

“You two new?” She walked to the sink and washed her hands.

Roxy leaned against the wall. “Not really.”

“Didn’t think so. Especially you,” she tipped her head in my direction. “You’re a civvy all the way.”

“Thanks?” Didn’t know what she was talking about, wasn’t going to ask. “We’re looking for Crystal.”

Her eyes met mine in the mirror. She would have been pretty if she hadn’t worn so much stage makeup. Long fake lashes outlined her deep brown eyes, blue eye shadow highlighted them.  “Which Crystal?”

“Destiny.”

She grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and leaned on the counter. “What do you want with that bitch?”

I held out my hand. “My name’s Jane, that’s Elizabeth.” Roxy waved.

The woman shook my hand and left it a little damp. “I’m Jess. Well, my working name is Satin Lace.”

“Nice to meet you. Destiny dated a guy named Sheik.” Really, these names were all too much. But then my sister and I were named after first ladies, so I had no room to talk.

Jess pinched her lips together. “Yeah, I know him. He’s an asshole. He’s dated a few girls here, not just Crystal. But then she isn’t all lily either, if you know what I mean.”

“Are you saying Crystal cheated on Sheik?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Look, I’m a stripper, but I’m not a whore. Crystal is a whore. She doesn’t mind providing extras. And she’s stolen more than one dancer’s man.”

“Extras being…” I asked.

“Billy Joels, Harry James.” She waved her hand.

I glanced at Roxy for translation.

“Blow jobs and handies,” she said.

I turned my attention back to Jess. “Is that allowed here?”

She smiled, and in that moment she appeared older, harsher, then the smile disappeared and she was back to a pretty young woman with too much makeup. “It’s not allowed if you get caught. And sometimes she’d meet up with patrons outside the club. A big no-no, but some girls do it.”

“Back to Sheik—” 

“We call him Asshat,” Roxy said.

“That sounds about right.” Jess crossed her arms. “He always wants more than a standard lap dance. Likes to grab.”

“He’s in a coma, got bashed on the head. His ex-wife didn’t do it, so I thought I’d question Crystal.”

Little lines appeared on her forehead between her eyes. “He and Crystal did have a huge fight a couple days ago. He comes rolling in here, throwing money around, getting dances from a bunch of the girls. Real generous with the tips, too. Crystal went ape shit. She’s yelling at him about owing her money and why is he getting dances from the other girls instead of her. Big production. Freddy threatened to fire her and sent her home for the night. Haven’t seen her since.”

“So where did Asshat get this money?”

“Don’t know.”

“Did he come into the club alone or with friends?” Roxy asked.

Jess took a deep breath, tapped her cheek with one manicured, red-tipped finger. “That night by himself, but sometimes he’d come in with a group of guys.”

“Do you know their names?”

“I don’t remember names. Unless it’s a regular. I just call everyone baby.” She shrugged and spun toward the mirror. Rubbing her lips together, she smoothed a hand down her long brown hair.

“You don’t happen to have Crystal’s phone number, do you?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t call that bitch if she was on fire.”

I narrowed my eyes and tried to work that one out.  Nope, didn’t get it. “So is Crystal her real name?”

Jess laughed and pushed away from the counter. “Yeah, it is. Crystal Waters.”