Chapter Twenty-Seven – Molly

 

“Hello, may I speak to Chuck, please? I’m calling regarding a referral a friend of mine recently made.”

“A referral? May I ask who’s calling?”

“Molly Long. My friend’s Heidi. She works for you as a…model?”

“Oh yes, of course,” the receptionist said on the other end of the line. “Hold for just one moment.”

A tone sounded, and I was placed on a musicless hold. The only sound was the rushing of blood in my ears, and my own heavy breathing.

Luke and I were seated in the living room on adjacent couches, with him leaning forward with his elbows planted firmly on his knees. The look on his face was as stony as the mountains surrounding the Illuminati House up in Prophet, and as grim as a winter morning. I caught his eye and went to say something, just to assure him they were putting me through, but he just put his index finger to his mouth and shook his head.

Right. No talking. No talking to him at all, in case they started to ask questions or think this was a sting. I squeezed my phone in a death grip as I bit my lower lip, trying to breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose, just like they taught us to do during yoga. Because if you could control your breathing, you could control your reaction, and right now that was just not working out for me.

Because, to put it bluntly, I was fucking terrified. Absolutely terrified. If I screwed this up and didn’t get an invite to this party, then that meant Luke was going to have to break in on his own. And I’d seen how well that had gone down in the sewer. Had seen how much danger his solo antics put him in. I had to get this right. I had to do this properly, or he was going to be in that place all alone with those things.

And there was no way I was going to let that happen.

A few interminable minutes later, a man’s gruff voice came on the line. “Chuck, here. Molly Long?” An older voice, grizzled and tainted by the years. It was the kind of voice that belonged to a burly man who never shaved and smoked cigars all day long. The type of man who drank scotch for breakfast, then followed it up with bourbon for lunch, and rye for dinner. Who ate sandwiches over the kitchen sink and worked in a shipping yard somewhere out on the coast.

I sat up a little straighter at the sound of his voice. “Yes, Molly Long, here. How are you?”

“Good, good. What can I help you with tonight?”

When I spoke, it all came out as one rambling jumble. “Well, my friend Heidi’s been working for you for a while, now, since last year sometime, I think, and she’s always talked about how much fun she has on the job, and she told me to just call if I ever needed any kind of work or if I was looking to change professions.”

“I don’t know, Molly,” Chuck said. “This is a pretty big decision. Sure of what you’re asking here?”

“Well, Chuck, I’m in kind of a bind right now. My mom just got diagnosed with breast cancer, and I really just don’t know what to do.” I winced a little at the white lie, rationalizing it internally by reminding myself that I was trying to infiltrate a prostitution ring so I could help hunt down a lust demon in the middle of an exclusive sex party. “So, I thought I would, you know, see if you maybe had any spots available at your, um, modeling agency?”

“Uh-huh. And you know what a modeling gig is like, right?”

“Well, Heidi told me there’s these parties on the weekends sometimes, and the kind of, um, modeling they do there. I even drove her to one last night, and I was just wondering if you had anything available like that. I’m desperate here, and willing to do anything.”

He cleared his throat, but didn’t speak after. Silence seemed to clog the line with its weight alone, and my blood was back to rushing in my ears as my temples seemed to throb.

“Are you there?”

“Anything?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice pitched high with nerves. “Anything.”

“One second, all right, Molly? Going to put you on hold so I can talk to my associate.”

“No, hold’s great. Take your time.” The same tone as before rang in my ear, and I was back waiting with that interminable quiet looming in my ears like darkness drawn as a soundscape.

A minute later, Chuck was back on the line. “You’re the one she sent the picture of last night, right? The leggy brunette?”

“Yes, that was me.”

“Okay. Heidi’s out of town with some guy she met last night at the party, so we’re down a girl, which means we do have a spot open. But—”

“But?”

“But, we can’t take just anyone. This is a big gig for all of us, and we’d hate to lose it, so you’re in luck.”

“I am? You mean, I’ve got a job for tonight?”

He chuckled. “Not quite yet, Molly. We still need you to come in, so we can put a face to the name and see if you’re as pretty as your picture. Girls do all sorts of shit with computers now, so we need to actually see you.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely.”

“Good. You have a pen handy? Need you to write this address down.”

I flapped my hand at Luke until he dug into his pocket and handed me a solid metal ballpoint click pen. But no paper.

“Ready?” Chuck asked.

“One sec,” I said, “just trying to find some paper.”

Luke patted his pants, looked around the living room, but nothing presented itself.

I reached over, grabbed hold of his arm, and yanked it towards me, putting pen to skin.

He growled a little, but I just shot him a look, saying, “I’m ready.” I recorded the address as he gave it to me. “How soon should I be there?”

“Soon. Just come up to the door, and we’ll get you in.” He paused. “Oh, and Molly?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s not go with the suit this time, all right?”

“What should I wear?”

“Something sexy,” he said, the words seeming to crawl from his mouth like a legion of worms. “Dress to impress.”

“Right,” I said, my voice quavering. “See you soon.” I hung up the phone and, with a shudder, tossed it down on the coffee table.

“Well, I guess step one is done.”

I took a deep breath and let it out with a tremor as I continued to stare at my phone, the realization of what I’d just agreed to do setting in. “Yeah, guess so.”

“Nervous?” he asked.

“Grossed out is more like it.”

He nodded solemnly as he looked down at the address I’d written on his arm, the words upside down from his point of view. “How much time do we have?”

“Said to get there as soon as I could.”

“Guess we’d better get to it, then,” he said, rising from the couch and offering me a hand.

Groaning a little, I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “We?” I asked.

“Think you’re the only one who needs to be presentable? I’m still the one who needs to kill this thing.”