“Call me Michael, please. It’s a business my partner and I have been running for many years. It has made a lot of young people like you very rich.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“Without revealing too much, it’s a very exclusive service we provide to wealthy clients who value their privacy. Members only.”
“Like anescort service?” I spat, incredulous. “Do you think . . .Look, I’m not a hooker!”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t elaborate any further at this time, but I promise you it’s nothing like what you’re thinking. We’re not in the business of prostitution, nor will we ever be.”
“If not prostitution, then what? If you were in any way legitimate, you’d have no problem telling me what it is that you do,” I said, wondering if he might be mafia or the head of some nefarious cartel. I was hard up for money, but not so hard up that I’d work as a hitwomen or drug mule. I crammed the card into my purse, eager to get it out of my fingers, then wiped my hand down the front of my pants. “Or maybe you’re harvesting organs from unsuspecting women. Think I want to wake up in a bathtub full of ice?”
He chuckled over the last part. “How about you come by Dignitary tomorrow evening so we can have a chat? You’d like my business partner. She’s feisty, like you.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, turning my back on the guy as I made a move to find Liz. Screw the drinks. I was ready to go home.
“That’s too bad. You’d be out of debt in no time.”
That got my attention, but whatwasthis Dignitary place? For all I knew, Michael could be a serial killer. Anyone with a few bucks could have fancy business cards printed up.
“You’d enjoy yourself while you were at it,” he called after me.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said without turning around.
“Call me if you change your mind. No pressure.”
“Don’t hold your breath!” I whipped my hair over my shoulder, feeling like a badass vamp in an old black and white movie. I almost added “Well, I never!” but I figured it would be overkill.
I hastened my pace, but the fortress of drunks reared violently against my efforts; it was like playing Red Rover in hell. After two solid minutes of struggling, I found a way out through a wormhole near an arguing couple, which I realize was the lamest dramatic exit in the history of all dramatic exits. To add insult to injury, my shoe was yanked halfway off my foot once I wiggled through, and I was tossed through the crowd like a beach ball.
I slammed into a guy holding a pint, causing beer to slop down the front of his jeans. And, boy, was he pissed.
Until he realized who I was.
“Hey! Captain Titty!” he slurred, slapping me hard on the back with his clammy paw. “I’m glad you won—you were my favorite!”
“Why don’t you stick your head up your ass and roll away,” I muttered, fixing my shoe.
“What?” He did not look amused.
Louder, I said, “Thank you, that was nice of you to say!”
I scurried off when Wet Jeans turned around to brag to his friends about hanging with Captain Titty. I found Liz a couple seconds later. She looked ready to commit homicide.
“Sorry, no drinks. The line was insane. I mean, who do you have to flash your tits at in this joint to get a drink? Oh, wait.” I slapped my forehead, making myself laugh as I pretended to remember the contest.
“The line tookfor-everin the bathroom, too,” she said, patting her wet hands on her dress. “I don’t get what’s so complicated. You go into a stall, pull up your skirt, pull down your underwear, take a piss, wipe, pull up your underwear, pull down your skirt, flush—maybe even clean off the seat if you’re not a total hag—and then get the hell out of there. I almost had blood running down my legs, but do you think any of those bitches let me cut in line?”
“Probably n—”
“I could barely get in the door. There was like a hundred chicks crowding around the mirror, which made it impossible to get into a stall. One of them elbowed me in the ribs!” I could practically see steam coming out her ears.
“And here I thought I was having a bad time.”
“I thought I saw you talking to some guy by the bar. Did you get his number?” she asked hopefully. Liz was so preoccupied with my pathetic love life that she approached finding a man for me like it was her job. Honestly, I would have given her a salary if I’d had any money to pay her.
“He’s old enough to be my dad,” I said. “Also, he might be a serial killer.”
“Well, itlookedlike you were having fun talking to him,” she pouted. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I worry about you sometimes, Olivia.”
