Tea Leafing: A Novel (11 page)

It took several minutes
for Sam to make her way through the bodies on the main floor and up to the
second floor balcony. She knew both bouncers lingering outside the Skybox, and
fortunately one of them was a long time favorite.

“Hey Reggie!” Sam
greeted him with a hug.

“What’s goin’ on girl?
Were you sent up here for Fedya?”

“No. But I was
wondering if you might do me a favor?” Sam lowered her chin and looked up at
him under the weight of her false eyelashes. “I was wondering if I might have a
moment alone with Fedya? I need to talk to him about something.”

Reggie looked at his
watch as he drew in a deep breath. His eyes flicked toward the office door then
back to Sam. “I can see. I don’t know if he’ll go for it. Nikki and some other
girls are in there but his friends haven’t arrived yet.” He smiled at Sam.
“Gimme a sec.”

Slipping through the
sliding doors, he disappeared into the Skybox, leaving Sam and the other
bouncer outside on the balcony. Sam imagined the time-ticking music used on
game shows in her head while she waited, almost drowning out the rap that
bathed the club in bass.

“So, whaddya’ talking
to the boss man about?”

Sam knew the other
bouncer was trying to fill the time rather than pry her for details.

“Oh nothing really,
just wanted to thank him for his support. He’s been really cool to us,
especially since Lena was killed.”

The bouncer dropped his
head in a nod.

“I just didn’t want to
do it in front of Nikki since he asked us to keep it quiet. He doesn’t want it
affecting morale, which I think is a smart move.” Sam smiled.

Reggie reappeared. “He
says it’s fine. Just wait here a minute while the girls clear out.

Nikki and three of her
drug buddies stomped out of the room, irritated.

Brushing past Sam,
Nikki muttered “Bitch” under her breath.

Sam leaned into Reggie,
“Do you mind keeping Gio out while I’m in there? I really want this to be
private.”

Reggie raised an
eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “I’ll do my best.”

With that, Sam slipped
through the doorway and into the low-lit living room of the Skybox.

“Sam, my daling. To
what do I owe the honor?” Fedya rose from his seat and opened his arms,
inviting a hug.

Sam reciprocated the
standard southern strip club greeting, and the two settled into the couch
together.

“I’m sorry to chase
everyone out, Fedya.” Sam glowed. “I just wanted to talk to you about a concern
I have. You said to come to you with anything we need, so here I am.”

“Yez, of course!” Fedya’s
look of caring concern drew Sam in. She thought about the affair Nikki and Gio
were having behind his back. She couldn’t understand how they could do that.
She didn’t understand the point in having affairs at all. Finish one thing
before you start another. That was the policy in Sam’s orderly world.

“I don’t know how to
say this, other than just saying it. I’m a little worried because it seems like
the police aren’t having much luck investigating Lena’s death. You are a
powerful and respected man in the community.” Sam looked at her hands as if she
might draw strength from them. “Do you think there is any way you might be able
to encourage them? I mean to make sure they’re doing everything possible?”

“I don’t understand,
Sam. Why you think politzei
are
doing no searching?”

Sam looked into the
gray-blue of Fedya’s eyes. They were the color of a cool mist, and she was
momentarily lost. “Um, not nothing. I just haven’t heard anything and I think
it’s a little strange that no one has questioned us. Don’t you?”

Shifting in his seat
Fedya said, “Did you do it?”

Sam blinked at him.

“Why you need to be
questioned if you did not do it?” Fedya smiled, “Sorry, this is not funny. But
I am surprize you want to be question.”

“We may know something
we didn’t realize was important, you know? Somebody investigating probably
knows more than we do but why wouldn’t they want to talk to us? Anyway, the
point isn’t just that I want to be put under a microscope, I just want to know
what’s going on.”

Fedya nodded. “You do
right to come to me.”

“There’s just been some
talk around the club that someone here knows more than they are saying.” The
minute it was out of her mouth, Sam realized she had said too much.

Straightening in his seat,
Fedya turned towards her, “What do you mean? Who says this? I don’t understand,
Sam. Who is saying these things?”

“I don’t know
specifics, Fedya. You know how club gossip goes. It’s just in the ether. You
overhear chatter and rumors spread fast.”

Fedya studied her more
carefully.

“I’m sure
it’s
just gossip but I didn’t like hearing that. If the cops
press harder with the investigation, or at least make their presence known, it
may put the talk to rest.”

“Hmm.” Fedya grunted
his approval. “True. I will have chat with the police and you keep ear to ground
to see who is spreading this bullsheet.” His eyes were still on her, but his
thoughts were churning through scenarios someplace else. “Thank you. I want no
criminal element here. Is bad for business and I won’t tolerate it. I run a
clean place.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

“I’ll be on my way.”
Smiling, Sam stood and brushed imaginary wrinkles from her dress. “Thanks for
listening Fedya. It feels good to know you are on our side. You’re the best.”
Sam leaned down and squeezed his neck, giving him a peck on the cheek.

He chuckled and patted
her back. “Don’t mention it. You deserve nothing less. Thank you for coming to
me. Is taken care of. No worry.”

Sam slipped through the
door and onto the balcony feeling recharged. Fedya’s political power and social
connections opened doors. He was firmly on board and she felt lighter as she
pranced along the balcony railing, glaring at Nikki as she went.

Sam scurried past VIP
nineteen, hoping to avoid the celebrity and his manager on her way to the main
stairs.

“Saaamm!” Pietra’s
shrill cry cut the air like a laser through steel.

Frozen, Sam’s eyes searched,
trying to get a fix on Pietra’s location.

“Sam, ovah here!”

Turning around, Sam saw
Pietra a few steps behind her. She was planted at the railing just outside VIP
21. Too close to room nineteen for Sam’s taste.

“Pietra! Come here and
let me take a look at you, you gorgeous thing!” Sam sang, feeling the beads of
sweat squeeze through her pores.

Strutting toward her,
Pietra planted her hands on her hips. She looked like an aged cheerleader
readying herself for a performance. Sam pictured Pietra yelling
OKAY
and launching into a rhythmic clap
with gold bangles jangling.

“What are you doin’ up
here, Sam? Do you have a room?” Pietra looked pleased with herself.

“No, I was just
chatting with Fedya and it’s back to work for me.”

“You know who’s in
nineteen? Oh, of course not. I’m sure he’s trying to keep a low profile and
only the best girls are in the know.” Pietra smirked. “Well, it’s that musician
who’s been at the top of the charts for the last month! You didn’t hear that
from me though.”

Sam dug her nails into
her palms, trying not to give into the urge to tell Pietra that she’d turned
down the invitation. Struggles with
her own
ego were
the hardest battles.

“Oh, really?” Sam took
Pietra by the shoulders and gently turned her so their positions were swapped,
directing Pietra’s line of sight toward the VIP room, and Sam’s back to it.
“Let’s swap then, and you can tell me if he comes out.”

Pleased with this plan,
Pietra fluffed her hair and mashed her lips together. “So what did Fedya want?”

“Oh, nothing. We were
just talking about Lena a little. Nothing big, just chit chat.” Sam hoped she
wasn’t divulging too much.

“Is that the girl who
got herself killed?” Pietra had the tact of a platypus.

Tic.
Sam felt her face flush.
Tic.
“Um, I wouldn’t say she got herself killed, but yes, she was murdered, if
that’s what you are asking.”

“Right. Right.
Whatever. I’ll nevah forget the weekend that happened! Oh Gawd it was awful!”
Pietra slid effortlessly into her victim role.

“What? I didn’t realize
you knew Lena.” Sam was shocked.

“No! Gawd NO! I didn’t
know her. I don’t usually associate myself with you girls, Sam! You know that!”
She paused as if collecting herself as Sam’s nails went deeper into her palms.
Tic
. “No, it was horrible because that
weekend I was with Gio. My poor boy.”

“What? I don’t get what
you mean. I thought Gio was off that weekend.” Sam thought about Gio’s
disappearance that Friday. He hadn’t reappeared until the following Tuesday
with no explanation. If he was taking a long weekend for a vacation, everybody
knew about it. He was a bit of a bragger. The absence had raised suspicions for
Sam.

“Off? No Sam, he wasn’t
off
anywhere. Especially the toilet!
I nursed him that whole weekend! It was so horrible. Between the vomiting and
the diarrhea we didn’t leave the bathroom!”

“We?” Sam cringed.

“I couldn’t leave my
baby alone, Sam! What kind of a mutha’ do you think I am?”

Sam thought for a
moment. She was standing on the balcony of a strip club with the night
manager’s mother who was star-stalking a celebrity. She thought it best not to
answer the question.

“So he was
sick
?” Sam blinked away the visual.

“As a dawg. Running at
both ends and crying like a baby. My poor little man.”

“MA!” Gio had wandered
up behind Pietra and apparently overheard her reporting. “You aren’t
suppose
to be up here!” He barked.

“Oh stop, dawl. You
know I’m just trying to get a peek at you-know-who.”

Gio looked like he was
ready to explode. It was hard for her to take the threatening look seriously
since she had a fresh visual of him anchored to the toilet, crying for his
mommy. Sam thought again about the random way information floated through the
club. Gio had obviously kept his stomach flu a secret. One more suspect down.
That still left Nikki. Sam glanced back toward the door leading to the Skybox
and wondered if that little twit really
was
responsible for Lena’s death.

Turning back to the
DiFranchesco family reunion, she saw Gio’s face tense, focusing on something
just over her shoulder.

“Hey Jordan! Didn’t you
request Sam? I coulda’ sworn I heard it over the walkie-talkie.” Gio gave Sam a
malevolent stare. “Here she is. All tarted up and ready to dance.”

Sam returned Gio’s
vitriol with a smile. “I have a customer downstairs I have to get back to.”

“And he’ll understand.
Go with Jordan.” Gio wasn’t questioning. Apparently Sam’s punishment for
disobedience was to suffer the fools in VIP 19.

“Fine.” Sam clenched
her teeth and turned to Jordan. Pietra looked wild with a mixture of excitement
and jealousy.

The night unfolded
exactly as Sam expected.
A musician as high on himself as he
was on Oxy.
A manager with a chip on his shoulder.
And a struggle for money at the end of the evening.
Sam was exhausted in every way, but she felt relieved Fedya was on her side and
felt certain her hunt for the killer was nearing fruition.

CHAPTER 19

 
“Why don’t all restaurants have picture
menus?” Birdie broadcast from her planet. “I might even go to French restaurants
if I could order by number, and I don’t mean bloody
un
,
deux, trois either. I guess pictures of the food might not be so good for an
Indian place though. A korma is not a pretty thing to look at!”

Sam burst out laughing,
startling Birdie away from her menu. Snaking her arm around Birdie, Sam
squeezed her, breathing in the scent of stale smoke and what remained of her
perfume — Poison.

Tanya arrived with the
usual assortment of mugs, waters, and juices.

“Well idn’t that nice.
Smiles! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen that from ya’ll, you sexy things!”

Tanya looked smashing,
her mood more upbeat than usual. She scooted her unfairly small ass into the
booth next to Grace. Birdie rooted through her purse for tea bags.

Grace closed her eyes
and breathed in the steam from her sweet, blonde coffee, wrapping her hands
around the mug. When her eyes opened again she seemed more relaxed.

Dropping a teabag into
her cup, Birdie dunked it in time with the Muzak and asked Sam, “Learn
anything?”

“No. I can tell you that
Fedya is definitely on our side though. Said he didn’t want any criminal
elements in his club and that he’d talk to the cops. Nikki was her usual bitchy
self. She didn’t start any trouble directly but if looks could kill, I’d be
dead. Nothing I couldn’t handle though.”

“I’d love to see that
whore get what’s coming to her.”

“Oooooooo,” Tanya
squealed like a little girl “Don’t think I’ve ever even heard you cuss, Ms.
Grace! Girl is pissed!”

“I know some very nice
whores, Grace, don’t group that heartless hag in with them.” Sam said.

Flustered, Grace
continued, “You know what I mean. It’s just not fair that she’s skinny and
pretty and makes a ton of money and she’s such a bitch! If I looked like that
I’d be in such a good mood all the time, people’d think I was slow. I’d just be
so happy to be alive.” Grace tossed her platinum hair away from the perfect
symmetry of her face.

“A road apple in a
Faberge egg is still a road apple”, Mary Jane observed.

Birdie twisted around
in her seat, wiggling her arms out of the sleeves of her sweater. Winters in
Atlanta ranged from pleasantly mild to the occasional dip below freezing.
Tonight was in the mid-forties and as usual, the girls were underdressed for
the weather at 4 a.m. Their sweatshirts, jeans and running shoes looked odd
with their full-blown hair and make-up. After having her winter jacket stolen,
Sam realized why no one bothered to dress for the weather when going to work at
the Pussycat. The small coat-check behind the front desk was reserved for
customers only. Once she got comfortable again, Birdie leaned in close under
the pendant light dangling a few feet above the table.