The dancer’s smile smooths out around the edges, and her stream of fear cuts off. “I’m sure he thought it was funny, but the rest of us agree with you.” She reaches to her left to grab a pack of assorted nuts from the display. “Anyway, it was good seeing you. Don’t be a stranger.”
I accept her dismissal, waving to her, and then finish my shopping.
Her story isn’t exactly a smoking gun, except Luca didn’t mention any of this to me when I asked him about Roscoe.Did they kill Roscoe over a quarter?
Luca’s loyalty to Celine seems unshakable, so it’s possible. Having seen them around each other, I’m starting to believe there’s nothing in the world he wouldn’t do for her. Lying to me would be second nature to him.
I respect that, but unfortunately it makes my job harder. Earning Celine’s trust while pumping her for information will beall but impossible, and if she ever finds out who I really am... Shit, let’s hope I’m as good at lying as Luca.
Even though I’m itching to go back to the club and follow up on the lead, I wait three days, plotting my public persona.
The witch from the grocery store did more than give me a tip; she also reminded me it’s not normal for an average demon in the Fringes to drop a grand in one night.
Reminder one: appear less rich. I’m not going to rip holes in my shirts, but I do need to act aware of my spending in a way I haven’t had to before. Tipping Celine a thousand dollars was a good time I shouldn’t repeat. At least not for a while.
When I approach the club this time, I don’t trip over a strange child.Thank the gods.I hope the little boy is okay, but that’s as far as our interaction will go. One day, when he’s famous for inventing a new, weird genre of music or something, he can thank me in his memoir.
Hot wind gusts through the alley, tousling my hair as I open the door and step inside. Combined with the wave of magic from the human-repelling ward, it’s a creepy sensory experience. I shake it off, glancing around the club, and do my best to see it through new eyes.
The Naked Fang is dimly lit, with spotlights beaming down from the ceiling. A long, narrow catwalk-like stage runs nearly the entire length of the room, with a pole planted in the center. Chairs line the stage, and there are tables clustered at irregular intervals around the room. Three walls are flanked by booths, and the bar is tucked against the fourth. A hallway, easy to miss, leads to the bathroom and employee-only areas.
The Goldilocks of strip clubs, the Naked Fang is neither too grimy nor too glamorous.
Where would Roscoe sit?He strikes me as a table guy. I can picture him sprawled in one of the empty ones, a stupid smirk on his face as he throws a coin at the stage. Anger rises, but I let it go. I don’t need to respect the bastard to find out what happened to him.
Making my way to the bar on autopilot, I fantasize about the living nightmare I’ll trap Roscoe in if I find him alive. Part of me hopes he’s somewhere holed up like the weasel he is. That way, I’ll be able to pay him back for disrespecting Celine and wasting the enclave’s time.
“Back again?” Luca’s deep voice hits me, and I toss him a friendly smile.
He doesn’t smile back. Instead, I get the distinct impression he’s sizing me up. I grin wider, then peek deliberately over the bar at his crotch. If he wants to compare equipment, I’m ready when he is.
“I couldn’t stay away,” I say in my most obnoxious chipper voice, swallowing my laughter when he grinds his teeth.
“You zoned out when you walked in,” Luca observes, adjusting a row of clean glasses as if my answer doesn’t matter to him in the slightest. He’s fishing. I love it.
“Troubled mind,” I say, putting on the saddest face I can manage. “Lots of kids who grew up in a chaotic home environment space out from time to time. It’s my burden to bear.” That’s true and something I likely have in common with the average fringe demon.
“Right.” He shakes his head.
“Can I get my usual?” I ask.
Luca quirks one dark eyebrow, the metal of his lip ring glinting as the flashing lights swivel around the room before focusing back on the stage. “You have a usual?”
“Of course! Don’t you know it?” I pretend to be shocked.
“Enlighten me.”
I lean over the bar, unable to resist ruffling his feathers. “It’s where I come in thirsty, and you...” I pause dramatically, letting my gaze rake over his body before stopping on his mouth. “Give me what I didn’t know I needed and leave me wanting more.”
Luca stares back at me, his gaze intense. The tension between us is so thick it could probably bear weight—like, support the second story of a house if it had to. I lick my lips, drawn in deeper than I intended to be. The movement shatters whatever temporary hold I had over Luca as quickly as glass hitting concrete. His hazel eyes dart away.
“Coming right up,” Luca says. The words are friendly enough . . . standard bartender shit. Except the jerky way he moves behind the bar is miles from the casual confidence he usually wears as a second skin.
If I were someone else, I’d let him regroup. But I’m me, so I keep watching him closely instead, grinning when he knocks over a tray of sliced limes and curses.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” I ask, adopting an innocent expression.
Luca looks up, scowling fiercely. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”
