“Read my lips.” Scythe leans in. “You can say whatever you need to say in front of Lily, or you can say nothing at all.”
I look around. The bar is pretty deserted—most of the people at Second Star seem to congregate in the planetarium or on the dance floor—so I relent and take a seat next to Scythe. Bianca takes the stool next to me.
“One other condition.” Scythe gestures to the shelf of dark liquors behind Lily. “You drink with me while we talk.”
“I really don’t think we should?—”
Scythe cuts Bianca off with a wave of his robotic arm. “We have the city’s finest selection of rums. I’d be offended if you didn’t partake.”
“We’d be happy to,” I reply. “My treat.”
I don’t love the idea of having a drink when we’re gathering intel, but a few sips won’t kill us, provided Scythe isn’t adding something extra to the rum.
Maybe I’ll just pretend to sip at it while we talk.
I look over to Bianca, bounce my eyebrow slightly and dart my gaze to the bar. She nods vaguely, hopefully understanding my silent message.
Lily pours us a glass each of Appleton Estate twenty-one-year rum. Scythe takes the first sip, wiping a drop of liquor off his scruffy beard. “What exactly is picking at you two?”
I take a sip of my own rum—God, it’s smooth. “We were wondering if you’ve noticed any odd turnover with any of your servers.”
Scythe raises an eyebrow. “Turnover?”
“We’ve been looking through all the clubs that my sister—Rouge—owns,” Bianca says. “We’ve seen a troubling pattern. Waitstaff and patrons alike seem to be dropping off the face of the earth after their time at their clubs. Have you noticed anything like that occurring here at Second Star?”
Scythe widens his eyes and then quickly drains his lowball glass, clanking it down on the bar counter. “Lily, another.”
“Of course, Scythe.” Lily pours him another glass.
Scythe grabs the second glass and takes another long sip. “It’s funny that you should mention that. One of our waitstaff, Tina, just very recently gave a very sudden notice of leave.”
“She did?” I ask.
“Aye, she did.” Scythe swishes the rum in his glass, staring at the counter of the bar. “She and I… We were something of an item. Nothing official, just a casual friendship with benefits. Then, out of nowhere, I receive a typed note a few weeks ago. Not an email, not a text, but an honest-to-God note on real paper left on my office door in the dead of night. I tried calling her, but her phone was disconnected. Her social media wiped clean.”
“Did you give her any reason to believe she wasn’t safe here?” Bianca asks.
Scythe’s face reddens. “No. Just because I’ve got a great big scary arm, you think I’d be abusive to a woman?”
I raise a hand. “Simmer down, Scythe. My girlfriend was just asking a question. She’s not the kind to make snap judgments.”
“She’s a Montrose, isn’t she? Who’s to say what sort of carnage her type might get into?” Scythe turns sharply, and his prosthetic arm knocks his half-full glass of rum to the floor, shattering it.
Like clockwork, Lily immediately grabs a mop and dustpan and starts to clean the mess as if this is an everyday occurrence. It probably is. I’ve heard that Scythe has a short fuse.
He runs his hands through his dark shoulder-length hair. “Apologies. I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that.”
“I understand, Scythe,” Bianca says. “Believe me, I know the weight my sister’s—my—name carries. But I assure you, we are here in good faith to find out if she is behind something terrible, and to bring her to justice if she is.”
Scythe looks Bianca in the eyes, his head slightly cocked. “My God, I hope you live to tell the tale, then.”
30
BIANCA
Chills are still skittering over my skin as we depart Second Star. And not a moment too soon. Harrison looked like he wanted to deck Scythe into next week after he snapped at me at the bar.
We’re on the elevator down to the ground floor of the building when I turn to Harrison. “People are disappearing. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
