Night Prayers (14 page)

Probably the ones at
Disneyland
and
Knotts Berry Farm
.

Mica set the half-empty bottle back on its soggy "Furverts Are Meat Eaters" cocktail napkin and glanced at the pale strip of flesh just below the knob of his left wrist… where his watch
had
been.

It was
now
in his jacket pocket.

He'd taken it off when the club closed at one… and Gypsy
still
hadn't shown.

What the hell was he DOING back there?

Mica closed his
eyes
and took a deep breath. He changed his mind… didn't
want
to know what Gypsy was doing. With Luci. And the woman who wasn't Piper. For almost three full hours.

God damn him!

Sorry, Lord… didn't really mean that.

Much.

Opening his eyes, Mica picked up the beer bottle and theatrically saluted
Luci's pastel smirk —
this ain't over yet, lady —
then spun the stool around and turned his back on the painting.

And tried to ignore the feeling that her painted eyes were still trained on the back of his neck. Watching.

Mica shivered the feeling away and finished off the bottle.

The club was empty except for the assistant bartender, taking his time dragging a mop over the floor, and the three "Lucky Collar Winners" talking to Miriam. Three of them for dinner and drinks. One for Luci… one for Gina…

"— and one for the little girl who lives down the lane," Mica finished out loud. Although
why
she'd be invited to dine with the customers was beyond him. The only thing
she'd
done that evening was not throw up on anybody when Mica carried her in.

Maybe Luci thought an impromptu dinner would be a good way to introduce the woman to one of the "many benefits" working at the Club had to offer. Mica looked down at his crumbled jacket and cap laying across the stool next to him and saluted them as well.

He could hardly wait to see her up there in the spotlight, shaking her fur-covered tits and ass.

And a sharp twinge in the front of his jeans told him exactly how
hard
that wait would be.

"Jesus," Mica said as he crossed his legs, "You know that's not what I meant."

Something sparkled in a far, unlit corner of the room and drew Mica's attention away from the trouble brewing in his pants.

Thank You.

It took his eyes a minute to separate her from the surrounding darkness. Still wearing the black velvet dressing gown she'd put on after her fifth and final consecutive routine, Gina was hunched into the narrow booth fiddling with the real diamond-and-jet ring Luci had given her last year at the Club's annual Christmas/Hanukkah/Winter Solstice Party.

Mica was used to seeing Gina play with the ring — it was her prize possession and she was always sticking it under people's noses — but the way she played with it tonight made him think of the way a cat's tail twitched right while it waited for a mouse.

A big
black
cat… and a
red-headed
mouse.

Twisting the stool around, Mica leaned over the bar and grabbed two more dripping bottles out of the ice-bin. Gypsy always kept a dozen bottles of the "good suds" on ice to unwind with after work. But tonight only two bottles and one bartender were missing.

"Screw you, Gyp," Mica said as he lifted out two more bottles. "You probably got mote than beer tonight anyway."

Luci's painting smiled down at him as he turned and walked across the empty room toward the Club's resident jungle beast. He and Gina had never really hit it off, but maybe tonight would be different… maybe tonight she's open up and lower her guard.

Maybe they could finally talk — just talk — about this life, the next and what the hell had been going on in the dressing room all night.

Maybe.

Mica increased the overall voltage on his smile and nodded when Gina finally turned and noticed him standing there. She growled.

Well… maybe not.

But, not being one to be put off by a little show of frayed nerves, Mica set the bottles down and slid into the booth across from her.

"Thought you might like to join me in a nightcap."

Gina ignored the bottle and growled again. This time it sounded as real as the one produced by the MGM lion.

Okay, he thought, I should take the hint and just leave her alone. She doesn't want to talk and she's obviously had a rough night. I should go.

Aw, what the hell.

Smiling, Mica leaned forward and clicked his bottle lightly against hers.

After all, what was the worse thing that could happen to him?

"So, how 'bout it? Looks like you could use a nightcap." Mica inched the bottles closer to Gina's hand
— being careful not to get too close to her long, red-lacquered nails. Having seen the results of what those claws were capable of, he wanted to have plenty of room for a quick and strategic retreat if the need arose.

Which it could. In an instant.

He personally knew of at least one Furvert and three hookers who would carry the scars of Gina's
handiwork
to their graves.

She could be a real bitch when she wanted to
, Mica thought,
just like now
.

He had to fight to keep the smile on his face when she twisted around and glared at him. If looks could kill, his ass would be
en brochette
.

"Aw c-c'mon, Gina. A drink'll do you good."

As an example, Mica picked up his bottle and downed half just to get rid of the sudden dryness in his mouth. It didn't help that much.

"Yeah," Gina said, leaning across the table in Mica's direction. "I think a drink'd do me
real
good, Preacher-boy."

Mica felt his body tilt forward as if the whole room had suddenly keeled over
on itself. It was an interesting sensation. Mica giggled as Gina's face drifted
in close. She was smiling… her lips so red… her teeth so white… her fangs so —

"GINA!" Miriam shouted from across the room. "Be
good
!"

Mica slammed back against the booth and instantly felt something wet and
clammy at his crotch. He was afraid to look —
Lord, don't let me have pissed myself
— but when he did it was just as bad.

The rest of his beer was busily soaking into his jeans.

"Aw
…fuck
."

Gina's giggle made him look up. "Now that's some nice language for a Preacher-boy't'be spoutin'. My ol' pappy hear you say things like that, he'd take a hick'ry switch't'your backside."

He just
loved
the way she put things. Brushing the worst of the puddle off his lap, Mica waved at the assistant bartender
— and got a one fingered wave in return.

Shit.

Gina chuckled for no apparent reason.

"So…" Mica said as he shifted his butt to a drier parch of Naugahyde. "How was work?"

Gina stopped chuckling and returned to glaring. "Am I botherin' you?"

" 'Scuse me?"

"I asked if I was botherin' you by just sittin' here mindin' my own business?"

Mica cleared his throat and felt the dryness return. "Well, if you put it that way…"

"That's the onliest way to put it. You're all the time buttin' that Holy-Roller nose of yours into other people's asses. An' if you ain't careful, one o'these days that nose gonna get bit off. Like
that
!"

Gina snapped her fingers and Mica jumped — suddenly very happy he hadn't gotten another beer. He was even happier when Miriam waddled up, all smiles and wrinkles and blue hair.

A Munchkin come to life.

"So, you two having a nice chat?"

Gina just snorted and turned back to watch the door leading to the dressing room. Mica wanted to do the same — Where the hell was Gypsy?
— but nodded instead. It wasn't like Miriam to leave anxious,
paying
customers to talk with the hired help. She must have thought that he was trying to convert Gina again.

Like that could he accomplished with a Holy sledge-hammer.

Gina growled low in her throat and shifted farther back into the booth.

Following Gina's example, Mica leaned slightly to one side and glanced around Miriam's diminutive (but substantial) frame.
Anxious
was too mild a term to describe the three "dinner companions".
Frantic
was probably a better choice of words. Laughing, jostling one another, shooting nervous, jittery glances around the room… they reminded Mica of high school freshmen visiting their first whore house.

Or, at least, the first time
he'd
visited a whore house.

Sitting back, Mica looked up into shadows laying across Miriam's face and nodded.

"Yes ma'am," he said, "we've been having a real nice chat."

Gina huffed.

"Good… good. I like seeing my kindela getting along together. Makes things so much easier."

Her chubby, cold little hand reached out and patted Mica's.
His
eyes had already become accustomed to the dark booth, but Miriam had been able to find him without a moment's hesitation. Glasses or not, her eyes must have been a lot sharper than Mica thought.

"So why are you just sitting here in the dark like a mushroom?" she asked, patting his hand again. "A good looking boy-chic like you should be out seeing what kind of mischief he can get into."

"Or, least-wise makin' sure other people
don't
," Gina snarled.

Mica paid her just enough attention to forgive her
(again)
.

"I'm waiting for Gypsy," he said. "He and Luci sure have been back there a long time."

Was it his imagination or did the temperature in the room suddenly drop by thirty degrees? Mica hunched his shoulders against the chill and picked up the empty beer bottle. His fingers left dripping impressions on the frosted glass. It wasn't his imagination.

Lord? You working some kind of miracle here?

"Yeah, a long time," Miriam said, nodding her head. Mica half expected to see her breath plume out in front, and was surprised when it didn't. "But a real streak of luck for us. What you might even call a miracle
—"

A shiver raced up Mica's spine as the cold settled down around him. A
miracle
…

"— you should excuse me for stepping in your territory, Mr. Miracle-Man. Okay, so maybe miracle wasn't the right word… so sue me." Miriam shrugged and batted the air in front of her. "Anyway, Luci finds out that girl's a dancer and needs a job
— so what can I do? You know how big hearted our Luci is, she'd have all the dancers in Hollywood in here if she could."

The temperature dropped another degree as Gina's nails put four new scratches across the table top. Mica caught the scowl that passed between them and pressed his back tighter against the back of the booth. Getting out of the line of fire.

"
Anyway
," Miriam said, all smiles and talking faster than usual when she turned back, "the big Gypsy is working out the arrangements… lights, music, whatever they do out here when I'm back in the office paying bills. You know."

Mica nodded and chuckled. It was the first time he could ever remember Miriam lying to hum. She sounded exactly the way his mama had the day he came home early from school and found her and an Encyclopedia salesman sitting in the darkened living room… talking fast and trying to push her crumpled panties under the couch with her foot.