3:32 p.m.

 

Day 1

 

“You are being such a baby about it,” Jo said, glancing over at Archer. He refused to look at her, just glared out the windshield as she drove them down the street.

“You hit me in the goddamn throat!” he croaked out, rubbing at his neck. She shrugged.

“You deserved it.”

“I was joking, Jo!”

“Does it seem funny now?”

“I am never sleeping with you again,” he grumbled.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” she snapped.

“You'll be begging me before the week is out,” he predicted. She guffawed as she cranked the steering wheel, turning into a parking lot.

“Hold your breath for that to happen, okay?” she suggested.

“Please. You loved it,” he told her.

“It was pretty good.”

“Hey!” he yelled as she climbed out of the car. “How come you get to joke about it, but I can't?”

“Because I'm not joking,” she said back, then she slammed her door.

She felt pretty good about herself as she walked away from him, but her mood quickly crashed as she came around to the back of the car. She stood still and stared down at her vehicle. It was easy to sort of play it off when they were driving around and doing stuff and getting stoned at raves, but now that she had to open her trunk, she wasn't sure she was able to.

“You okay?” Archer asked, appearing at her side.

“Fine,” she breathed, then cleared her throat. “My, uh … my uniform is in there.”

“Why do you need your uniform?” he asked. “We're just going in to ask some questions, right?”

“If I go in there, the regulars will recognize me and ask for something, or another waitress will see me and get pissed because I've missed the last four days, or a floor manager will see me and give me shit for not being in uniform while in the club. Trust me – there's a reason why I never go into work when I'm not actually working. Besides, it'll look weird if I'm here on my day off, wandering around, asking everyone questions. This way, I can move around freely, have a reason to be talking to everyone. Just a chick at work, being friendly and chatty.”

“I'll just go in alone. Act like a regular customer, say I'm asking about my buddy who'd lost his wallet,” he suggested.

“Yeah, but you can't go into the back, not by yourself. And the dancers and waitresses won't tell you anything, we get a lot of weirdos asking a lot of weird questions. You'll just blend in.”

“Are you calling me a weirdo?”

“Yes. Yes I am. Now let's get this over with and get my outfit.”

“Will it be okay?” he asked, glancing at the trunk. She nodded.

“It's in a sealed plastic bag,” she said. “Under the tarp he's on top of.”

“Why do you have a tarp in there, anyway?”

“To protect my shit from all the people I murder!” she hissed, hitting him in the stomach. “Why do you think? Because this car doesn't seal for shit and when it rains, I have to cover the top!”

“You've become so violent lately,” he grumbled, rubbing at the spot she hit.

“Thanks to you. I probably have an ulcer now.”

Without warning, Archer reached out and hit the button to pop the trunk. Jo was unprepared for it. She gasped and turned away, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Scared she would smell it, she also covered her mouth and nose with her hand.

“Have you ever seen a dead body before?” Archer asked. She managed to shake her head.

“No, not until this morning,” she said. There was a pause, then his hand was on her shoulder, squeezing.

“Okay. It's okay. It doesn't really smell, not much,” he assured her. “Want me to get your stuff?”

“Yes,” she sighed in relief. “Yes, please. It should be on the left somewhere – a bunch of like gold lamé in a bag.”

There was some shuffling noise. A distinct thunk that if she had to guess what it was, it sounded like a foot hitting the bottom of the trunk. She gagged and put her other hand over her mouth, as well.

“Got it,” Archer said, and as soon as the trunk slammed shut, she turned around.

“Thank you,” she said, holding out her hand. He didn't hand over the bag, though.

“It's … it's got blood on it,” he warned her. She grimaced, but took it from him anyway.

“Whatever, I'll just ...” her voice trailed off as some dots connected in her brain. She held up the bag and stared at it, at the smear of blood down the side.

“Just what?” Archer asked.

“Blood,” she said, glancing at her trunk. “He's bleeding, that's why he's on that tarp. Whoever put him in there knew he was bleeding, that's why they spread the tarp out and draped it over him.”

“Yeah … so?”

“You moved him – did you see how he was killed?” Jo asked. He frowned and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“He was shot, it looked like three times, right in the chest,” he replied. She laughed and dropped the bag, clapping her hands together.

“He was shot!” she shouted.

“Jesus, keep your fucking voice down! Why is that cause to celebrate?” he hissed.

“Because I don't own a gun, Archer! I couldn't have shot him!” she explained.

She took a deep breath. She had honestly been worried. Had thought maybe he'd gotten inappropriate with her and in her drunken state, she'd hulked out and broken his neck or something. But gun shots, those were a whole different ball game.

“That's a good point,” he agreed, nodding his head. She couldn't stop smiling as she picked her bag up off the ground.

“That takes a load off my mind. C'mon, let's go ask around about this dude,” she sighed.

“Unless ...”

She stopped in her tracks.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you shot him with his gun,” Archer pointed out.

Hopes. Crushed. Her smile fell away and she frowned up at him.

“Thank you, Archer Calhoun. Thank you for that. You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself,” she grumbled, then she turned and stormed off towards her job.

“Oh, c'mon, not this again,” he groaned, chasing after her. “I'm just trying to think of everything.”

“So you think I'm bad in bed, and a murderer,” she stated, yanking open the door and striding inside. A bouncer behind a glass partition glanced up and when he saw it was her, he nodded and hit a buzzer. An inner door popped open, allowing them to enter the club properly.

“Hey, I never said either of those things,” Archer told her.

“Oh, sorry. You implied them, my bad,” she snapped as she wound her way through the tables towards the back of the room.

“I can't believe I've never been here before,” he mumbled, and when she glanced over her shoulder, it was to find him staring at the stripper who was on stage.

“Because I said you weren't allowed, remember? Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're going?” she asked, coming to a stop when he almost followed her into the back room.

“I thought this was an investigation. I go where you go,” he said, trying to step around her. She put a hand on his chest.

“Uh uh,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “I'm not aiding and abetting your perviness. Just wait here, try not to be a dip shit. I'll come find you when I'm changed.”

She didn't give him the chance to argue or joke or be an idiot, she just turned and walked away.

A hallway led to a changing room, complete with mirrors rimmed in lights, and a long table covered in different make up products. Half naked women were everywhere, adjusting thongs, adding blush to nipples, gluing on pasties. Just a normal day at Bunny Love's strip joint – conveniently located between Hal's Steak Shack (now closed) and Boomer's Auto Car Wash.

Jo smiled at a few people, made small talk about feeling better and picking up an extra shift to make up for her missed days. Then she hurried back to her employee locker and quickly changed. Once she had everything in place, she hurriedly pulled her hair up into a decent looking bun and grabbed someone's red lipstick, smearing it over her lips. She glanced in the mirror and was happy to see she looked exactly like she did every other night she worked.

Most of the waitresses went all out on their looks – great hair and perfect makeup usually equaled bigger tips. But Jo hated her job, and hated the customers even more. She never wanted to give them more reasons to think they could touch her or perv over her, so she never put too much effort into her hair or makeup. That, combined with her bad attitude and the fact that Bunny Love's wasn't the most popular strip club, meant she made shit tips, but she didn't care. She just couldn't make herself do it, and especially not that night of all nights. So she called it good and grabbed an empty serving tray before heading onto the floor.

She came out on the other side of the stage, opposite of where she'd gone in, and looked around. She didn't see Archer anywhere, but it wasn't exactly easy. There were spotlights on the stage, but the rest of the club was almost entirely lit by red lights, and not a whole lot of them. Normally it didn't bother her, she'd gotten used to the low visibility. But that particular day, it creeped her out. Made her think of murderers and stalkers. Had her wondering how many men had watched her from the shadows.

“Hey!” she called out, spying another waitress nearby. Michelle, one of the girls who had gone out with her the night before. Jo and her were pretty good friends, had been to each others houses.

“Hey, I didn't know you were working today. How you feeling?” Michelle asked, clearing a table of empty glasses before turning to face her.

“Oh, good. Trying to make up for all that work I missed. So, last night was crazy, huh?” Jo jumped right into it.

“Yeah, it was!” Michelle laughed. “I had such a blast. I went home with this rich dude – he lived all the way out in Santa Monica and made me take an Uber back home at like four in the morning, but so worth it.”

“Sounds awesome,” Jo nodded her head. “You know, I met this guy there last night, it was so weird!”

“I saw you with him,” Michelle laughed.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Your hot neighbor, right? When I went to leave, you were outside climbing him like a jungle gym,” she told her. Jo gasped. Kiss – he'd said she'd kissed him. There had been no mention of climbing.

“Well, you know how I am when I drink,” Jo forced out a laugh.

“I don't blame you, girl. I've been telling you to fuck him for like the past year. Was it hot? He looks like he has a big dick,” Michelle said.

“It's amazing, we should make a mold of it,” Jo said through gritted teeth. “But you know, the night is kind of fuzzy. I met this other guy there, and he, uh, lost his wallet.”

That lie worked for Archer, maybe it'll work for me.

“I hope it was full of fifties,” Michelle laughed, then started edging back towards the bar. Jo followed after her.

“Thing is – we got to talking because he'd been here before,” Jo babbled. She wasn't a very good liar, they didn't roll off her tongue like they did with Archer. “Here, to our club. He recognized us. I figured maybe one of you would recognize his name or something, so I can return the wallet.”

“Oh, you know how I am with names, sweetie. Try Jaylah, or when Candell is done with her set, ask her,” Michelle suggested, gesturing to the stripper that was now down to only a thong and a pair of very high heels.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Jo sighed and after Michelle walked away, she went to turn around. Instead, she bumped into someone standing right behind her. Courtesy of the dead body in her trunk, her paranoia was at an all time high, so she let out a growl and immediately started slapping at the person.

“It's me!” Archer hissed, grabbing her wrists and holding them together.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “You scared me!”

“I was sitting at a table over there,” he said, letting her go. “I didn't even realize it was you till I heard your voice. So you think we should make a mold of my dick, huh?”

“Oh god, fuck off, I was just trying to stop her, otherwise she would've babbled on about penises all night,” Jo growled. “Now can you actually be helpful and start asking around, as well?”

“Is this what you always wear?” he asked, ignoring her and frowning as he looked over her outfit. She glared and put her hands on her hips.

“No, I just thought it would be fun for today. Yes. Look around, all the girls are wearing this,” she instructed, gesturing around the bar. He didn't look up, though. Just kept staring at her body.

“It's very … shiny,” he finally said.

“I'm sorry you don't like it, Archer, but it pays the bills. Now c'mon,” she insisted, turning towards the bar. He grabbed her arm, halting her movement.

“I never said I didn't like it,” he stated, and when she looked back at him, he was still staring at her body.

Her outfit was ridiculous, she knew that. The entire thing was made out of a distressed metallic gold lamé and was only two articles of clothing. Well, three, if she included the thigh high fishnet stalkings she wore. The other pieces were a short skirt that on her, with her long legs, showed the bottom swell of her ass cheeks. Normally, she wore a cute pair of black ruffly butt-covers underneath, but she'd been in a hurry and hadn't bothered with them that day. The top was a three-quarter sleeve V-neck number that tied in a knot between her breasts and stopped there. Everything from her ribs to her hips was exposed skin. A pair of boots typically completed the outfit, but she'd left them in the car and had grabbed a random pair of heels from the dressing room.

It was trashy and cheap, making her look like a two dollar hooker. But she also knew she had a great rack and a nice ass, so at least she was a sexy hooker. And judging by the way Archer was eyeballing all the aforementioned assets, he didn't seem to mind the trashy-cheap look.

“Well, then,” she cleared her throat, and he finally looked away from her tits and into her eyes. “I'm glad you're enjoying the view. Pity the goods don't live up to the packaging.”

“Huh?” he asked, and she pulled her arm free of his grasp.

“Pretty good,” she reminded him, and he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Jo, I didn't -”

“Jodi!”

A high pitched squeal interrupted them – her co-worker, Kim, the other girl who'd been out with her last night. She all but threw herself at Jo, giving her a big hug. Jo glared as Archer didn't even try to hide the fact that he ogling the two of them.

“Hey, Kimmy,” Jo laughed, finally pushing the other girl away. “How you feeling? Wild night last night.”

“O.M.G., wasn't it the best!? Lookin' good, Archer,” Kim winked at him. He smiled big.

“Feelin' good, Kim.”

“You two were so cute last night,” Kim sighed, clutching her hands together. “The way you were all over each other! I swear, I almost melted.”

“All over ...” Jo turned to stare at him. He cleared his throat and waved a hand in the air.

“So Kim, we have kind of a conundrum,” he talked over her.

“A co-what?” Kim asked, scrunching her nose.

“A problem,” Jo said, then she repeated the same lie she'd told to Michelle.

“Hmmm, what did he look like?” Kim asked. Jo swallowed thickly and tried to remember from her glances in the trunk that morning. He'd been laying face down.

“Like medium height,” Archer filled in. “Brown hair. Older than us, I think, probably mid-thirties.”

“Sounds like a lot of people,” Kim pouted her lips out.

“But he said he came here a lot,” Jo stressed. “And, uh, I think he said his name was … Bernard?”

Kim gasped.

“Bernard!” she squealed. “Yeah, I know him! He was there? I wish I'd known, I love him.”

“You know him, yes, thank you baby jesus,” Jo gasped. “Do you maybe know -”

“He's so rich, he leaves the biggest tips,” Kim kept talking. “You know, he's the one who told me about that night club.”

Jo and Archer glanced at each other.

“He did?” she asked slowly. Kim nodded.

“Mmm hmmm. We were flirting one day, and I mentioned I was planning a ladies night. He said they had great drinks down there, said he could get us a free bottle. I can't believe he didn't say hi! He must have an eye for you, Jo,” Kim laughed. Jo forced out a chuckle.

“Yeah, must have … so he comes here a lot?” she asked.

“Kinda. Like recently, I guess,” Kim thought for a second. “I guess I noticed him a couple week ago. Started coming in every day, stays through the end of my shift. Sweet guy, tips big. Asks a lot of questions.”

“Oh really? About what?” Archer kept his voice casual.

“The girls, what we like, what's allowed. Ya know, he's a Johnny type – wants to hook up with us chicks. I'm not surprised he likes you, Jo, he's into brunettes with long legs. Oh, table fourteen is calling, gotta run. Nice to see you, Archer!”

As Kim jogged off to help the customer, Jo and Archer stood side by side. It was a lot of information to take in. Mr. Bernard Krakow had recently started going to Bunny Love, within the last two weeks. He asked about all the girls, particularly leggy brunettes. Jodi was a leggy brunette. He'd been the one to suggest the nightclub they'd all gone to, and he'd most likely known who Jo was before he'd talked to her. It was all just … too much of a coincidence.

“Archer,” she whispered, glancing around. “What if I didn't black out?”

“What do you mean? You were gone, you don't even remember offering me a rim job.”

“I what!?”

“You gotta work on your sense of humor,” he chuckled.

“This is serious! I've never had a hangover like that, I've never … I mean, sure, okay, I've gotten black out drunk before – but I don't remember half the night. It's like a fog. Like I wasn't myself. I think he drugged me,” she said. Archer raised his eyebrows.

“You got roofied?” he clarified what she was trying to say.

“I think I did,” she nodded.

“He targeted you.”

“I really think he did. Archer, I think he knew me,” she stressed. “I think he'd been watching me, and I think he wanted me at that nightclub.”

“This is insane. We have to find out where he lives, find out what he wanted with -”

A man a couple tables away started shouting for her. Jo groaned and glanced around. A floor manager was in a corner, snapping his fingers at her and pointing to the customer. She nodded and hurried away from Archer, pulling an order pad out from her waistband.

After she'd taken the gentleman's order, she hurried off to the bar. She stood behind a gaggle of waitresses who were all flirting with the bartender, then finally she stepped up, slapping her ticket on the counter.

“Hey, Micah,” she smiled big. He playfully glared for a second, then smiled.

“Hey, baby girl. You got something for me?” he asked, leaning towards her. She leaned over, as well.

“I've got an order, and a lot of questions” she said, slicking her tongue across her bottom lip. “Do you know a regular, Bernard? Bernard Krakow?”

“Hmmm, maybe,” he flirted. “What's the info worth to you?”

“Oh, c'mon, I've got that money I owe you. Just tell me what you know about him, please?” she asked, pouting out her bottom lip.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked in a teasing voice. She resisted the urge to slap him.

“Because I have something of his, and I would like to give it back,” she explained.

“Mmm,” he moaned, and she shuddered when he reached out and traced a finger up and down her cleavage. “You've got something I'd like, too.”

“Knock it off,” she slapped his hand away. “If you don't know, then get me a bucket of Bud Light.”

He paid no attention and his finger went back to between her breasts. Before she could shove his hand away again, though, someone crowded close to her side. She was shocked as Archer grabbed the bartender by the arm and used it to slam him face first into the bar top.

“She asked you a fucking question,” Archer growled, leaning close to the other man. “So maybe instead of putting your hands where they don't fucking belong, you answer the goddamn question.”

“You're gonna break my arm!” Micah the bartender squealed.

“If you're lucky, that's all I'll do. Now answer the fucking question.”

“Uh, uh, yeah … Bernard dude. He, uh, comes in like every other day. Sits around and nurses a beer, hits on the girls. Has a hard on for Jo,” Micah ground out.

“Why me?” she asked.

“I don't fucking know, you have nice tits?”

Archer lifted the bartender just enough to slam him back down.

“Mention her tits again – I dare you.”

“Alright, alright, damn! I don't know, he just likes you! Asked what hours you work, where you live!” Micah shouted. Jo glanced around. They were in luck; the bouncers and floor managers were busy with a rowdy bachelor party.

“And you fucking told him!?” Archer exclaimed.

“No! Of course not! That's against policy. He offered me a lot of money, but I swear, I've never told him shit.”

“He didn't say anything else?”

“Just that he likes her … thinks she's special.”

“What else about him?”

“Jesus, what do you want to know? He said he lives in some apartment off Ventura Boulevard. That's all I got, man!”

“Okay,” Archer sighed, then he pressed down harder on the bartender's back. “Now apologize to Jo.”

“What!?”

Another slam on the bar top and Micah improved his attitude.

“Shit, I'm sorry, Jo. Sorry for everything. Please, forgive me?” he begged.

“And the money she owes you – consider it paid back in full.”

“What? It was fifty bucks! No, she has to -”

One more slam.

“She's had to deal with a piece of shit like you having the fucking audacity to look at her, touch her, breathe near her. I think that's worth more than fifty bucks. In fact, apologize for being a disgusting pig who shouldn't be allowed in the same room with her.”

Jo didn't even know what to do, she was so shocked.. It was crazy – he had Micah's arm twisted up in some weird Kung Fu like grip, and Archer's face looked like he was ready to either have a stroke, or commit murder.

“I'm so sorry, Jodi,” Micah said, and she was pretty sure he was crying. “I'm sorry. I'll respect the shit out of you from now on.”

“Archer,” she whispered, tugging at his shoulder. “Archer, let him go. People are looking!” He refused to move, though, obviously still considering murder. “Really, thank you. He deserved this, and it's awesome. But we have to go, or we're going to get kicked out.”

He finally eased off, letting go of Micah's arm and standing upright. He didn't back away an inch, though, not even when it looked like the bartender might swing on him. Micah thought twice about it, though, and hurried away, disappearing into the stock room behind the bar.

“I'm still gonna kick his ass,” Archer promised. Jo nodded, pulling on his arm and dragging him away.

“Awesome, and I will be happy to watch. But we have to get out of here!” she urged. The other bartender on shift was glaring at her, giving her the death stare. If Jo survived that weekend, it might only be to get fired.

She walked behind Archer, pushing on his back, guiding him around the outskirts of the room. She directed him down a hallway, then shoved him into an alcove. She stood in front of him, then peeked around the wall, watching what was going on at the bar.

“What the fuck was that about?” she hissed.

“What did you expect?” he whispered. “He had his fucking hands all over you.”

“News flash, Archer – I work in a strip club. It comes with the territory,” she said. A floor manager and a bouncer were at the bar, listening as Micah blubbered away.

“That shit happens to you all the time?”

“That 'shit' is nothing compared to the real shit I deal with – I'm probably gonna get fired,” she informed him.

“Good.”

She whirled around.

“You know, it may be easy for you to go out and make a buck digging ditches, or whatever it is you do, but this is all I've got! What the fuck were you doing? Are you trying to fuck this all up?” she demanded.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he sounded shocked. “You think I'm going to just stand by while some dude mauls you and touches you like he -”

“I've worked here for years, and you've never had a problem with it before,” she pointed out.

“Jesus, Jo, that was before I … I didn't know … you and I ...” he stammered.

“Before what? Before you realized I really do work at a strip club? Before you knew that the men who come here treat us like pieces of meat? Before you and I had 'pretty good' sex?” she snapped.

“Hey now, I didn't -”

“Just stop!” she held up her hand. “You're right, we shouldn't let 'stupid shit' get in the way of what we're doing. So I'm sorry you were drugged into having sex with me, and that my outfit offends you, and that you just now realized how men in strip clubs can act, but I -”

He grabbed her arms, gripping so tight she let out a startled squeal, but it was swallowed by his mouth. He yanked her close and kissed her hard, surprising every single thought out of her brain. Why was he kissing her? No one could see them, they were in a dark alcove surrounded by red light. They were about as invisible as two people could get.

“I know how men in strip clubs behave,” he whispered when he pulled away. “And your outfit doesn't offend me – it turns me on.” He kissed her again, quickly. “And it wasn't the drugs back at the rave. I knew exactly what I was doing when I had the best sex ever with you.”

She was stunned, and he took advantage of the opportunity. An arm coiled around her waist, pulling her flush with him, and before she could resist or ask a question or even think, he was kissing her again.

The first time they'd kissed, she'd been in a panic, worrying about a cop. The second time, she'd been high on ecstasy. This time … well, she was still panicking, and she was at work, and everything was fucked up, but it was different. She was completely aware of him in a way she'd never been before.

He was so tall. She'd always known that, but it was different being so close to him. Even in her heels, she had to tilt her head up to meet his lips. Was shocked at how strong his arms were around her, how tightly he held her. It made her light headed. She finally had to pull away, or she was going to pass out. She stared up at him, struggling to really see him in the shadows and dark lighting.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she breathed. “I don't … what is going on here?”

“A really bad idea,” he whispered, kissing along her jaw. “That we really want to happen.”

“But you … you acted like it wasn't anything special, back at the rave.”

“I lied.”

Her mind was blown and when he pulled her around, she went where he moved her. Allowed him to shove her against a wall. Groaned as his hands ran along the sides of her body.

“Why?” she moaned, lifting her leg to rub it alongside his hip.

“Because I'm no good for you,” he said, squeezing her breasts. “You deserve someone better than me. That's why I could never do anything.”

“Never? My god, Archer, how long have you been thinking this way?” she gasped. He leaned all his weight against her, pressing his hard on directly between her legs.

“I don't know,” he whispered. “I've had at least a small crush on you since … remember prom?”

“I ...” she couldn't even remember her own name. She clawed her fingers through his hair, pulling on the strands at the back of his head.

“You were sixteen, I was eighteen,” he said, sucking at the sensitive spot behind her ear. “My senior prom. Anthony Skolnick invited you.”

She'd all but forgotten him. A junior varsity basketball player and loose acquaintance of her brother and Archer, she had been delighted when a senior had invited her to prom. She'd grown tits over the summer and suddenly boys were noticing her. She would have much preferred to go with Archer, but he'd taken some slutty cheerleader as his date. They'd all gone together and had a good time, though her heart had broken a little when he'd left early with the slut.

I totally would've been slutty, if he'd ever asked.

“You've been wanting to do this ever since I was sixteen?” she double checked, then she nibbled on his earlobe.

“Pretty much. You have no idea how hard it is to be around you sometimes. Do you know how many guys I beat up in high school?”

“No way.”

“First Skolnick – talking in the locker room about screwing you after the dance, going to the -”

“I never slept with him! I was still a virgin!”

“I knew it,” he chuckled, and the sound rumbled in her chest. “And then Brian Murkel, talking shit about you.”

“Oh, I totally slept with him,” she laughed. Brian had been her first “real” boyfriend, but also a total dickhead.

“Shut up, Jo. All these fucking guys, so fucking bad for you. What the fuck?” he asked, circling his hips between her legs. She shuddered in his arms.

“I wanted you,” she whispered, leaning close so her lips were brushing his. “I've wanted you since the first day I saw you. But you never noticed me. You're always with all these girls, and I was just … there. Just your pal. Why did you do that to me?”

“I told you,” he sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. “You deserve so many things, Jo. Forget that shitty apartment, this awful job. You deserve someone who can take care of you, and make you laugh all the time, and someone who can make you feel amazing.”

“Archer,” she laughed, pressing a hand to the side of his face. “You already do all those things.”

“You're killing me, Jojo. I can't ...” his voice trailed off. There was no strength behind his words, though, and she didn't want to bother pushing it. She just wanted to be with him, always. In any way.

They kissed again, with heat and passion, tongues and teeth, clawing at each others clothing. There was an urgency in their movements, as if they didn't capture what was happening right that second, it would be gone forever. She could feel it, so she didn't stop him when he untied the knot of fabric between her breasts, causing her shirt to fall open. She was ready to strip completely naked for him, but a crashing noise and the sound of breaking glass stopped them.

“What was that?” she panted, looking down the hallway.

“I don't know. Shit, someone's coming,” he hissed.

She dropped her leg and he shoved her into the corner of the alcove. While she attempted to put her shirt back to rights, he backed into her, blocking her from view. The space was dark, and the red light made it hard to see, but she still held her breath as a group of men walked past them. She recognized one of the guys as the owner of the club.

“Right this way, right this way,” he was saying in an out of breath voice, leading them into his office. Everyone filed in, but there were too many bodies for the small room. Someone's shoulder prevented the door from closing.

“Shhh,” she whispered, pressing her hands flat against Archer's back. “That's Buzz Tipton – he owns Bunny Love.”

“Who are the other guys?” he whispered back.

“I have no clue. Buzz usually only comes to the club in the mornings – I've only met him once or twice. This is weird.”

They both crept forward and leaned out of the alcove, straining to hear what was going on in the office. But there must have been a particularly acrobatic girl on stage, because the loud music and the cheering drowned out most of the sound. They finally crept across the hallway and stood against the wall, eavesdropping as best they could.

“I don't know,” Buzz was saying in an insistent voice. “I don't know where your guy is!”

“He was supposed to check in at four o'clock.”

“Well, it's almost four-thirty, maybe he just -”

“In the morning, Buzz. Been twelve hours, and nobody's seen him. Last anyone saw of him was last night, at our club, with one of your girls.”

Jo gripped onto Archer's t-shirt, bunching it in her fists. They were talking about her in that office, and whoever owned the other voice, he didn't sound very happy. Or nice. She took a deep breath and leaned closer.

“I'm not their keeper. You think I got tabs on all these broads? Your boy was going through them faster than a junkie goes through smack. Talk to them,” Buzz insisted.

“Nah, this girl was different. She was a waitress. He'd been sent here to find her,” the other man explained.

Jo gasped so loud, the person in the doorway moved. Archer swore and immediately started back pedaling, shoving them backwards down the hall. Just as the office door swung open, they turned the corner, disappearing from view.

“Jesus, Jojo, are you trying to get us killed?” he hissed, grabbing her by the hips and propelling her through the club.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she was chanting, moving on autopilot. He drove her back to the dressing room, and this time he ignored the “employees only” sign. He walked her straight back into the changing area, earning some yells and catcalls from the dancers who were wandering around.

“Jo,” he said, whirling her around when they stopped at the far end of the room. “Snap out of it! We've got shit to figure out.”

“Okay,” she took several deep breaths. “You're right. Fuck, why was he sent here for me? Why me?”

“We're going to figure that out, just calm down,” he said, keeping his voice soft. She realized he was running his hands up and down her sides, trying to soothe her.

“Alright, I'm trying,” she told him, nodding her head.

He kept murmuring soothing words, kept petting her. She looked around the room, praying a bouncer hadn't seen them. Customers were strictly forbidden from entering the dressing room. She was thankful when she didn't see any large enforcer types lurching towards them. Most of the girls didn't seem to care about Archer's presence, and the ones that did were too interested in his good looks to kick him out. One particular girl was raking him over with her eyes, and a light bulb went off over Jo's head.

She abruptly pulled away from Archer, startling him. She didn't pay any attention, though, and walked across the room quickly. The eye-fucking stripper, Beeshonn, did a double take at her approach, then smiled.

“Hey, Joey-girl!” she preened. “You tryin' out for the stage?”

Jo was confused at first, then she looked down at herself. Her shirt was still hanging wide open, showing off her black lace bra and D-cups. She nodded her head.

“Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, the money looks so good, and the guys you pull!” she laughed.

She wasn't making that part up – Beeshonn was known as the whore around the club, and which was saying a lot considering where she worked. If Bernard Krakow had really been sleeping with the girls at Bunny Love, then Beeshonn would've had a crack at him.

“Tell me about it, sweetie. But looks like you don't have a problem in that department,” she said, looking back at Archer. “Who's your, uh, friend?”

“Him? Old friend of the family. He was asking about you – want his number?” Jo offered.

“I would love it. I like 'em big and tall,” Beeshonn growled.

“Oh, he's big and tall all over. Tell you what, wanna trade numbers?”

“You want my number, too?”

“No,” Jo stepped closer. “There's this guy, he's been hanging around the club. Real cutie, big spender. I was hoping you maybe knew his number, or knew where I could find him.”

“Sure, who is it?” Beeshonn asked.

“Bernard,” Jo said casually. “Comes in during the days a lot, so I keep missing my chance.”

“Oh, Krakow! You sure? I mean, yeah, he's a big spender, but dude is kind of a freak. Does a lot of coke, gets ripped and wants to do crazy shit,” Beeshonn warned her.

“Good thing I like crazy shit. Do you think he's busy tonight?”

They grabbed some paper off the counter and exchanged information. Beeshonn was even kind enough to scribble down Bernard's address – an apartment, right off Ventura. Just like the bartender had said. Jo recommended that Beeshonn wait to call Archer till the morning, when he would be at “peak” performance. Then she scampered back across the room.

“I'm super glad you're chill enough to have girl talk, Jojo,” Archer growled. “But do you realize that at any second, a group of unhinged men could storm in here and carry you off for all sorts of rape and torture?”

“I know, I know, but I know her, and she's a total slut bag. I got Bernard's home address!” Jo whispered in excitement as she shoved the paper into his hand.

“You're shitting me,” he gasped. She shook her head and bent over, sliding down her stockings as she kicked off her heels.

“Not shitting you. I feel like for the first time all day, we've made some real progress!” she told him, shoving her skirt over her hips. She let it pool at her feet while she slipped her top off her shoulders.

“Progress, yeah, uh ...” his voice trailed off and she stood upright, wondering what was going on. She found him staring at her body and she looked down at herself. She was standing in front of him in only her underwear.

“What?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips. “You've seen it before.”

“Um, last time, the walls were bleeding colors and I could hear my own heartbeat. This is a little different,” he informed her. She laughed and pushed him away from her.

“Okay, lover boy, keep it in your pants. If we can solve this mystery, I will let you stare at my naked body all you want.”

She got dressed in a hurry, almost falling over as she jumped into her jeans. She walked across the room while still pulling her shirt into place, and almost laughed again when Beeshonn winked at Archer.

“What was that about?” he asked, following Jo as she lead him out a back door into an alley.

“Oh, in order to get that guy's information, I had to give something in return. She thinks you're hot.”

“She clearly has good taste. What did you give her?”

“Your number.”

“Ah,” he laughed. There was a brief pause, then he cleared his throat. “You gave her a fake number, right?”

Jo winced and turned around the corner, hurrying across the parking lot to her car. A slight chill was in the air, raising goosebumps along her shoulders. As she slid behind the wheel, she briefly wondered if maybe she had a sweater in the trunk, but then thought twice about looking.

“Shit, I didn't. I was in a hurry, I didn't even think about it, I just scribbled yours down,” she replied when Archer got in the car.

“Dammit. Then I'm answering when she calls,” he warned her as he took his phone out of his pocket. “And I can't be held responsible for the things I may agree to.”

“And I can't be held responsible for the amount of times I might kick you in the balls,” she sneered, shoving her key in the ignition. He smirked while his thumbs tapped against his screen. She wondered who he was texting. Wondered if Beeshonn had already sent him a message.

“I like this jealous side of you, Jojo. Pretty hot. Maybe later we can -”

His voice was cut off as the engine sputtered and coughed. They shared a concerned glance, then she tried again. It was even worse that time – like a smoker's cough, hacking through her engine. The dash lights flickered, then went out completely. When she tried the ignition a third time, nothing. Just the tell tale clicking noise.

“Fucking battery,” she swore, smacking the wheel.

“I told you to put in a new one last month.”

“Thanks Archer. Maybe we should start keeping a list of all the things you've told me to do that I didn't do that are now coming back to bite me in the ass.”

There was a long pause.

“That would be a really long list.”

“We're fucked,” she sighed, climbing back out of the car. “We can't exactly go back in there and ask for a jump. There's a gas station maybe a mile down the street, but I doubt we could get anyone to come back and jump us.”

“It's not the end of the world – at least we know it's somewhere it won't get towed,” Archer pointed out, getting out of his seat and shutting the door behind him.

“True. But it could get stolen,” she replied. He shook his head and held up his phone.

“It'll be fine. I'll get an Uber and we can ...”

His voice died off and Jo raised her eyebrows. Then he groaned, shook his phone, and she watched as he pressed his thumb hard against the power button. It didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant.

“Fuck. Your phone didn't just die, did it?” she groaned. His lips were pressed together in a hard line, but he managed to nod.

“Yeah. Fuck.”

“How are we going to get there, now?” she asked. “Both our phones are dead, and there's no cabs around here this time of day.”

“We have to walk, we don't have any other option. Let's go home and get my bike, then we can go buy cables, or fuck it, a new battery,” he suggested.

“Seriously? Walk that far? How?”

“You have feet, Jojo. They were originally invented for walking, you know.”

“Sometimes … it's like my hatred for you overflows my body,” she breathed, letting her eyes fall shut.

“When you talk like that, I know it's your way of saying you love me. Now c'mon, let's move out!”

And with that, Archer wrapped his arm around her shoulders and dragged her out of the parking lot.