Chapter 11: Opening Act
Derek
Time feels like it stretches on for hours as we wait, wondering if our target will come back or move on. I want to call Mel, but I also want the kitchen staff to forget I’m here. So I keep quiet. Until she texts me.
All the reasons I’m here come rushing back in just a few lines—to protect her, to keep her safe. We say goodnight, and just like that, everything starts to move.
Patrick shoots me a text. Switch on. We’re back in business.
I quickly put the earbuds back in just in time to hear Sloan talking to Star. Two more martinis, and she’s making progress.
“I only waited to tell you goodnight.” Her disguised voice is suggestive but tentative. “My rep never showed up, so I guess I’ll head back to my hotel now. Alone.”
A few seconds pass, and he doesn’t respond. I’m hanging on the sounds of glasses clinking and the low roar of voices. He finally speaks.
“How long are you in town?” I’m not sure, but it sounds like a nibble.
“Just a few days.” She releases a sad sigh. “I’ll head back to DC and look for a new job there, I guess.”
“What were you doing before you left?”
“I was an intern for Senator Daltry.”
Silence, more noise from the bar. Muffled talking. I can’t tell if that was them or what happened. Then they’re back.
“…wouldn’t mind a little company.” I missed the first of that, but it sounds promising. “We can discuss it tomorrow night if you’d like to have dinner with me?”
“Oh, I’d love to!” The gushy sound of her voice worries me. She doesn’t need to be too easy. “I really want to stay in the city.”
The noise is muffled again, and then the voices vanish altogether. I’m straining against the tiny white headphones. What’s going on?
Footsteps outside the door, and it pushes open. Patrick shoves inside, and I realize he put his phone in his coat and headed up here.
“She did it.” He hangs by the window, scanning the alley. “This is good. One of us can get down there fast if anything goes wrong.”
“I’ll let you take that route. I’ll use the stairs and the kitchen exit.”
He chuckles. “Thanks.”
“So what’d I miss? You apparently shoved your phone in your pocket at a critical point.”
Pulling it out again, Patrick checks the face. “Our man offered her a job ‘keeping him company’ while she’s in town. Strictly a test-run, of course.”
“I heard they’re having dinner tomorrow night?”
“Gives us one more day to prepare.”
The next day we hit the gym again, but not too hard. Star doesn’t want to be tired, but we all feel better knowing we’ve polished her self-defense moves.
“The first night will probably just be hummers and fingering.” Her tone is as casual as if she’s tending bar. “Probably don’t need to worry too much about martial arts.”
“I like knowing you’re more prepared.” Wiping my face with the towel, I grab a bottle of water.
Her attention turns to Patrick finishing up a set of curls. “What made you take off last night?”
He exhales loudly and drops the weight, going to lean against the wall. We’re alone in the small room, so we’re being less guarded with our speech. “Did it seem like he was on guard to you? Like he kept looking around?”
She frowns. “Not really. He seemed pretty relaxed, actually, but I guess he does this all the time.”
I can tell Patrick’s not satisfied, and I know my partner pretty well.
“What did you see?” I move closer and lower my voice.
Patrick shrugs. “It was probably me being paranoid, then. I don’t do this all the time.”
“Still, what was it?”
“A few times it seemed like he was looking my way. Like he had his eye on me.”
Star has joined us in the huddle. “I don’t think he’s bisexual.”
“That’s not what I mean. More like he was… curious or something.”
“It didn’t stop him from propositioning me.”
Pressing my lips together, I think about what Patrick is saying. “Sounds like tomorrow night you should be somewhere else. Is there another place you can observe and not be seen?”
“I’ll go over early and try to find a spot.” He turns to Star. “You’ll be in the exact same place?”
“That’s the plan.”
Nodding, Patrick starts to go. “I’m headed back. Don’t worry if you don’t see me tonight. I’ll be there.”
I know he will. It’s almost three, and we all go our separate ways to reconvene at eight.
Five hours later I’m back in the cramped closet, waiting blind. It’s the worst kind of surveillance, even though I know Patrick’s out there being our eyes. I’m in the dark space wondering how long before I lose it.
I check my watch. It’s eight-thirty now. Pulling out my phone, I read back over the texts Mel and I sent back and forth today. Elaine’s spending the night, they’re having a Mexican fiesta, a few suggestive exchanges involving red thongs and sheer nighties. I smile.
I’d give anything to be there with her tonight, my unpleasant task behind us. But this problem won’t take care of itself, and I’m here to see it through to the end.
More time passes. I lean my head back against the wall and try to rest. There’s no fucking way I’m sleeping, but I’m not much for playing with apps, and looking at photos of Mel only gets me more keyed up.
Another thirty minutes pass. I think about what’s to come, and what we’ve got to get through to pin this on Sloan. Then I think about him behind bars and what Star said about wanting him out of our lives for good. We could do all this, and he could still get out on parole. Then what?
My eyes squeeze shut. Now isn’t the time to worry about that. It only distracts me from our plan, from what we have to make happen here.
Checking my watch, I’m sure they’ve had dinner at this point. It’s after nine, and it’s getting nice and dark in the alley. Just then the door pushes open and my adrenaline kicks up a notch.
“Show’s starting.” Patrick pauses to catch his breath. “Crack the window. We should be able to see them.”
I move to the small window and give it a push. Straining into the night, I locate the black door with the orange stripe across the bottom. It’s almost directly below us.
“That’s the spot. She knows where to go.”
We hang out a few minutes, and I’m about ready to ask if he came up too soon when we hear shuffling outside below us. A scuff of heels followed by the slamming of a door.
The acoustics are bad, and the sound echoes up to where we are louder than I expected—or wanted. The click of heels on pavement is clear as a bell, and shortly after, we’re bathed in a soundtrack of female moans and gasps. Shit.
“This is great,” I grumble, but Patrick shoves his elbow in my torso.
He communicates in gestures. “If we can hear them, they might hear us.”
Shaking my head, I turn away from the window, but listening is going to be unavoidable, it seems.
Pulling out my phone, I stare at the face again. Patrick stays by the window watching.
Just kissing. He texts.
I’m not really interested in the play-by-play, but I suppose we do need to keep tabs on whether the events are consensual or not.
More gasping punctuated by little moans. “Touch me,” Star whispers in an urgent tone. “Touch me.”
So far it sounds about as consensual as this setup was intended to be.
A loud moan.
Fingering. My partner texts again.
Great. Just fucking great. My eyes roam up to the ceiling, and I try to think of a million other things.
“Oh, god, yes!” Star’s voice breaks the silence. “Oh, god! Don’t stop!”
Looking at my hand, I think about how much easier it would be if I just beat him to death.
“Don’t stop… oh please… pleeease…” Her voice is high. I’m going to need a workout after this. “Ohh…”
Cries of what I can only assume are an orgasm continue to fill the small space where we’re hiding. I can’t tell if it’s real or fake, and I deny the tightness across my fly. Even Patrick drops his gaze to his shoes, but what comes next snaps us both back to attention.
“On your knees.” Sloan’s voice is sharp as he gives the order. It’s the sound we’ve been waiting for. “My turn.”
“But… I…” She pretends to be confused. Patrick and I both frown at each other… Is she taunting him so soon?
Sloan’s undeterred. “You came all over my hand, now I intend to fuck your mouth.”
The tone in his voice sparks a burn of rage in my stomach. He starts that shit on the first night, it seems. I’m ready to go down and kick his ass, but I feel Patrick’s hand grip my arm. His thumb is moving over his phone.
Mine lights up. She’s prepared for this. Let her lay the groundwork.
Adrenaline is spiking my heartbeat. All I can think of is Melissa being subjected to this fucker’s shit, but I hold it together. Shuffling noises meet our ears, and I step forward to see what’s happening.
The asshole has his back to the brick wall, and he leans back as Star’s head bobs up and down at his crotch. Shit. She’s going at it.
Stepping back to the wall again, I rub my neck and revisit the plan. It’s only the first night. We prepared for this to happen. As many times as I remind myself, this is what she signed on for, I still don’t feel any better about it.
Low groans fill the air now. A male hiss, and I’m glad I haven’t eaten. Patrick’s still watching the whole thing, his hand held out in a “Wait” motion.
Muffled sounds come from Star. A popping noise, and she gasps, laughs a little.
“Good girl,” Sloan murmurs to her. “Now all the way… All the way.”
More muffled hums. It’s quiet a few moments then loud gagging. Patrick straightens up like he’s ready to go through the window, and I touch his arm. His thumb flies over his phone face.
Holding her in a deep throat. Can’t tell if she’s okay.
Coughing, she gasps and laughs again. It’s shaky, but fuck. I don’t know what to do.
“Good?” His tone is condescending, like a coach or a teacher. I want to bash his head against the wall.
“You’re so big.” Her voice is shaky, but I hear her smile. I rub my forehead, wishing to be anywhere but here.
“Almost there…” His voice is strained and punctuated by the sounds of Star working him. Scuffing of shoes, low groans, then a deep “Ahhh… Drink it all. Fuck yes,” which I know is him finishing.
Patrick’s lips are tight when I glance up at him.
Star’s back to high, breathy Marilyn. “Good?”
“Very good. You can really take it, can’t you?” The note of ridicule in his voice makes me hate him even more. I didn’t think that was possible.
“I guess.” Star’s doing the best imitation of timid I’ve heard in a while, and I’m ready to nominate her for an Oscar.
“No guessing, you can. Next time we’ll see just how much you can take, and then maybe we’ll discuss my apartment downtown. I’m looking for someone new.”
“What does that mean?” She actually sounds excited, and my stomach turns.
“It means treats. And tricks.”
“Tricks?”
Sloan’s clothes are back in order, and Star leans beside him against the wall. Her black dress is smooth, and only her hair is messy from their encounter.
“You’ll see.” He touches her hair lightly. “I recently lost someone…”
Tenderness is in his voice. I don’t believe it for one fucking second, but we all strain forward anyway, hanging on what he might say next.
“Want to tell me about it?”
Her hand slides across his torso, and for a moment, I think she’s going to embrace him—then I notice her black-lace thong peeking out from his pants pocket. He seems to remember as well, and it snaps him out of whatever moment he was just having.
Sloan catches her hand with a menacing smile. “I’ll hang onto these. You can have them back tomorrow night.”
“When we meet for something more?”
“We’ll meet at the bar. Or where are you staying?”
“I’m nearby. The umm… Bridgestreet.”
I can see him thinking. “We’d better start at the bar. Here, since you came first, you only get half.”
“That wasn’t the deal.” She slants her eyes like he just told a joke. “What will I do with you?”
He hands over a white envelope. “Just so we’re clear, I intend to fuck you tomorrow night. In interesting ways.”
“Crystal, and I’ll expect the full amount.” She rolls forward as if to kiss him, but he pushes up and past her, going back toward the restaurant.
“You’ll be full. Don’t worry.” With that he pushes through the door, leaving her alone.
Bastard.
She rolls back against the wall and looks down at her shoes. I can’t tell what thoughts are going through her head. Warring in my chest is a tangle of rage and frustration overwhelmed by a strong need for vengeance.
Star looks up at the window, and her face is serious. She gives us a discreet thumbs-up, then turns on her heel, heading out of the alley.
Back at the Four Seasons bar, nobody speaks as we wait for our drinks. Star passes the envelope containing Sloan’s money to Patrick, and he puts it in his jacket pocket like a pimp.
My scotch is the first to arrive, and I consider shooting it. Instead, I pick it up and walk to the square table in the back corner where we can talk privately. The other two join me once they’ve gotten their drinks.
We’re quiet until Patrick finally breaks the awkwardness. “Well, that went about as we expected.”
I don’t know how the fuck he does it, but with those few words, we’re all breathing again.
“He’s smooth.” Star sounds like she’s conducting an autopsy. “And attractive. I can see why the girls go for him.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I can’t believe she just said that.
Her eyes cut to mine. “He’s also rich and confident, and he knows his way around a clit.” She lifts the glass and takes a sip. “I wasn’t faking.”
“Well, that’s helpful for you, I guess.” Patrick follows suit, taking a hit from his drink.
She stares into her vodka. “I see why Tiffany would follow him here.”
Her words soften me—now she’s speaking language I can understand. For a while at first, I was preoccupied trying to find a reason for this guy’s continued success with women. Then I just wanted him gone.
I mutter into my drink. “He apparently has a deceptive opening act.”
Patrick keeps us moving forward. “You’re all set for tomorrow night. Good work. What’s your feeling? Are you ready?”
She shakes her head. “Hope so. He’s definitely got a side to him. I wasn’t going anywhere without finishing the job tonight. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I’d said No.”
“Okay, so that’s our plan. Tomorrow night you push back. See if he gets rough.” This was Patrick’s idea from the start, so I let him lead.
“Is it too soon?” As she speaks, her finger circles the rim of her glass.
“Impossible to know. But I was worried about you tonight. He’s one cold-hearted prick.”
She looks up and smiles at my partner. “With you, it was fun. With him, I confess. I’m scared.”
That does it. “If you want out, say it, and it’s over. I don’t like any of this.”
She looks up, and with her sitting here fucking looking so much like Melissa, I’m about to call it regardless of how she feels. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?” Patrick’s tone is calming. “We can call it off and walk away. Figure out another option.”
“Haven’t you tried that already? Isn’t that the reason you came to me?” Her glance catches my eyes, but I look down.
It’s true, but I don’t want to say it right now. I’ve tried legal methods, and Sloan’s slipped out of the noose every time.
“That answers my question,” she continues. “I’m doing this for Tiffany. I’m not calling it off. I shouldn’t have said I was scared. I’m not.”
“You were right to say it.” My partner reaches across the table and holds her hand. “Sangria. Okay? We’ll be right there.”
She nods and looks down again. I’m pissed. “You should be in college or trade school. Why the hell are you even in this line of work?”
And just like that, Toni Durango’s back. “Fuck you, Mr. Derek Alexander. What the fuck do you know about what I should be doing?”
I shake my head. “Screw it. I’m getting another scotch. Anybody else?”
Patrick nods, but Star’s still nursing hers. “Two drinks it is, then.”
I walk up to the backlit bar. It’s elegant with dark wood counter tops and recessed lighting. The liquor bottles are arranged in groups all the way to the ceiling by color. They’re backlit as well, and it’s an impressive mosaic. While I wait for our refills, I look at the two of them sitting, leaning forward over the table.
Whatever he says makes her laugh. She touches his arm, but he pulls away, I know, because of Elaine. Still, he has a connection with her that I don’t have—one I don’t care to have. I linger a bit after the drinks are placed in front of me before heading back. I’ll let Patrick mend that bridge a bit longer.
She’s right. We’re worlds apart, and I don’t have the right to come in and ask for her help then start passing judgment on her lifestyle. It just pisses me off. All of it. I fucking fought for this country. I’m supposed to uphold the law. Turning to the bar, I know I can’t go down that path—not if I’m going to do what needs to be done here.
When Star seems more settled, I walk back and retake my seat.
“Okay, we decided we’ll have to find a better place than an alley for tomorrow night’s rendezvous.” Patrick takes his drink and stabs the skinny straw in it a few times. “I’ll scout the area and see if I can find something close to the Oceanaire that we can get in and out of discreetly. Maybe this Bridgestreet will work.”
“Sounds like tomorrow’s assignment.”
Star stands and ducks her head in our directions. “I’m heading up if you don’t need me for anything else.”
“You’re off the clock.” Patrick’s still going for casual, business-as-usual, but I can’t do it.
“I’m sorry you had to do what you did tonight.”
She blinks a few times and nods. “I’m sorry I went off on you.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Once she’s gone, Patrick leans forward, and speaks low. “Now will you get off my case about fucking her at the office? She’s a fucking pro.”
“I will never get off your case about that, but you’re right. And it’s a damn shame.” I think about subcultures and the world of the street. How people get trapped in a life of alleyways and dark closets. Most of them stay there until they’re dead.
Then I remember my question from earlier. “What did you tell the kitchen staff we were doing in that closet?”
Sitting back in the chair he laughs. “I didn’t tell them anything. I just asked if my partner and I could use the room.”
Fucker. “That’s what I thought.”
“Hey, you’re a hot piece of ass. I’d do you. If I went that way, I mean.”
“I hope I don’t have to kick your ass one of these days.”
“Get some sleep. We’ve got to work fast tomorrow.”
Down from the Oceanaire are two Bridgestreet hotels. Patrick and I choose the closest one to enter, posing as bankers in town planning a conference. While getting the tour of their facilities, we find a smallish meeting space with both an outside door and an adjacent tech room—complete with two-way mirror. It’s perfect. Bonus: It’s soundproof.
While the hotel’s conference director describes their state-of-the-art networking system, Patrick pockets the extra door card to the room. We’ll come back after hours and go over the best way to get in and out. We’ll also be sure that outside door is left ajar. Security will be another problem, but I’ll see if I can hack into their computer systems and get a feel for his rounds.
All of it has to be perfectly choreographed, but we’re ready by the time eight rolls around. Patrick slipped a hand-drawn map under Star’s door earlier in the day for her to take and go over alone. We’ll be in the tech booth waiting when they arrive.
Star calls my cell, which is unexpected, to let us know she’s heading out, and I feel the need to say it one more time. “If there were any other way…”
Her soft exhale passes over the line. “Stop. I agreed to help you for my own reasons. Reasons I’m sure you’re too noble to understand.”
“I’m not so noble. I understand revenge.” We’re quiet a moment. “Patrick has the lead here, but I don’t like putting you in this position.”
“Patrick understands me. I fucked him. I messed with his head. I’m not worth you feeling sorry for.”
Their history still ticks me off, but with this, I’m ready to forgive. “You’re a human being. You’re worth my concern, and you shouldn’t have to sell your body.”
“Don’t confuse sex with intimacy, Derek. My body is not my heart. I can separate what I choose to allow happen to me from who I am.”
The rationalizations of the hooker. I’ve heard them before. “If that’s what you want to believe, it’s not my business.”
“Look, let me use my choices for something good. It’s a small sacrifice. And by helping get justice, I can find some level of redemption.”
I do understand that, even if it turns my stomach. “We’ll be there if you get in trouble.”
“Sangria.”