A MODEST OFFICE SUITE, Yvonne’s workplace was on the first floor of a taller building. Some training day on the opposite side of the city had stolen most of Yvonne’s colleagues. Great, no answers. Frustrating. They resolved to go back the following day.
The delay worked in their favor. By her reckoning anyway. Pushing Mila too far could be disastrous. For this story, risks were necessary. That was her prerogative. Her decision. Somehow, tying someone else up in her choices didn’t sit easy. Mila might say she was okay, but the trauma of losing her friend couldn’t be underestimated. In grief, her judgments weren’t necessarily rational.
That was why she left her new friend sleeping in the hotel to sneak out alone that night. Some choices were impossible to explain. Why was it acceptable for her to take the risk while barring Mila from the same route? Her conscience wouldn’t tolerate risking someone else. Mila had lost too much already. If she got into trouble, a call to Ford would bring him to her rescue. In a real pinch, she could call her dad, but that would be a last, final, doomsday sort of event.
The map napkin in the diner hadn’t been exact and disappeared with Jagg’s coffee. Still, the internet was a wonderful thing. Turned out there was an actual website that could triangulate a central location when given three points on a map.
Just in case of trouble, she stopped at home to change out of her slut-wear and went with skinny jeans instead. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself, hence the lack of purse and choice of hooded sweatshirt. Yes, she’d have to explain the change of attire to Mila, but that was a problem for tomorrow.
Like her last trip to Hustle, she asked the cab driver to drop her off a block early and walked in. Getting a lay of the land was easier with a wider approach. Information and her life, those were the two things she wanted to leave with.
The street wasn’t busy. People milled around sporadically. The people you’d expect to see in that kind of area. Groups of guys hung around in doorways. The younger ones called at each other from an alley.
No one ever scared her.
No, that wasn’t true. She never showed anyone fear. Bravado could come off as arrogance, that was where the innocent thing came in. If she got a little too haughty, she could switch and draft. Her father and brother may not have wanted her to be part of their world, but it had infected her young.
They’d consider that a bad thing. She didn’t. With her father in the city, her mom in the suburbs, and her stepfather’s high six-figure salary, she was as comfortable in the company of paupers as kings.
Most people weren’t bad through and through. Those who meant harm were usually easy to spot. Anyway, if someone got too close, she’d pick her brother’s name or her father’s depending on the age of the perpetrator. One of their reps would mean something to an assailant.
Yet on approach to the group of women smoking outside the hotel entrance, it wasn’t her relatives’ names in her head.
“Hey,” she said, tucking her hood back from her forehead a little.
“We’re on break.”
“It’s information I need, not service,” she said. “Is there someone inside I can talk to?”
“You can talk to whoever you want, honey,” a blonde with crimson lips said. “If it’s got a dick, pull that zip down and they might even talk back.”
She smiled at the laughing women and carried on through the darkened doorway. Broken lights above and on both sides suggested it was once a well-illuminated space. The painted walls and gouged floors spoke to the lack of upkeep. The current occupants didn’t care about the décor and their customers were more interested in the look of other things. Like the product.
The point was to get inside. To get an idea of what went on in that building. Talking to the women outside was a respect thing. She wouldn’t walk past people like she was better than them. Offending the home team on their own turf never ended well.
Lights around reception showed exactly where customers were supposed to approach. A woman behind the desk didn’t even look up. Key hooks above the mail slots were occupied or not, depending on who was busy, she guessed. Rather than mail, each of the slots held a picture… a boutique shot… clothes, it appeared, were optional.
“Whoa, hey! Lookie, lookie…”
A guy, she hadn’t seen, swung from inside the room behind the desk. Beyond a bunch of women sat around what had to be a kind of breakroom.
“Hi,” she said, aiming for a pleasant, unthreatening smile.
“Never offered my services to a client before,” he said, sauntering over. “But, baby, you want a good time—”
“Put your tongue back in your head, Kenny,” the woman at the desk said.
“More like his dick in his pants,” one woman called from the back room.
Laughter followed those words, though his scowl didn’t see the funny side. “If you got time to joke, you’ve got time to walk the street,” he said, whipping around to storm into the back.
“What do you need?” the woman at the front desk asked, ignoring the squawking and arguing going on behind her.
“I need you to whisper in my ear,” she said, slapping her hands on the desk. The woman’s brows just rose. “Has my guy been hanging around here?”
The woman’s mouth opened in understanding. “If you’re gonna cause trouble—”
“Not for you,” she said, widening her smile, hoping to appeal to the woman’s sense of sisterhood. “If there’s something special he likes that he’s not getting at home…”
The hostess was kind enough to subdue her laughter. “This ain’t a how-to, show and tell gig, babes.”
“I know, I—”
“You got a picture?”
No, she didn’t. Why didn’t she? “I don’t but—”
“We don’t take names and addresses here.” Her head dropped to the side. “You think your guy—”
“I’m seeing Jagger Dunn.”
A complete lie. Jagg was right, she did lie easy. Except, technically, it wasn’t inaccurate as far as the Manzanis were concerned. Would Jagg be mad if he found out? No, how would he find out? Wasn’t he the one who kept saying he wasn’t part of this world anymore?
Stalled, the woman took a second before her grin came with a burst of laughter. “Oh, honey, if Jagg asked, there’d be a line of women around the block waiting to serve him…” She ducked closer, “and I’d be right at the front of it. No payment required.” Her smile warmed. “My advice? If Jagg’s playing away, let him. Some guys just need to get their kicks that way, you know?”
Interesting advice. “He’s a good guy.”
“He is and raking it in from what I hear. If him and Tav join forces, there’ll be a lot of sad crooks on the street, I tell ya.”
She didn’t know what that meant but nodded along. “You must see all kinds of guys in here.” Nodding at the pictures, she looked closer, checking if Yvonne was in any of them. “Do the girls live here full-time?”
“Some of them.”
“Do they see guys off the books?”
“Ask Jagg straight out,” the woman said. “He’s the type who don’t do well with subtle. He really don’t.”
How would she know? From experience? “I don’t want to be the crazy, clingy bitch.”
“But he’s going out nights…” she said, nodding slowly. “They got their own world. Men are like… they never grow up. They want fun, easy, commitment-free women… You want a ring or something?”
“No! No, I… He’s not the only one with prospects.”
“Ah, is that where we’re going with this?” She scoffed. “You got a better man than Jagg sniffing around? Grab him with both hands. What’s his type? He rich or something?”
“A girl’s not getting any younger.”
“Even from here I can see you’ve got a figure,” she said. “Play the field, baby, and put Jagg out for the rest of us to share too.”
“Would you tell me if he was coming here?”
“Confidentiality is important to our clients… So probably not.”
At least she was honest. “Can I talk to the other girls?”
“You start knocking on doors and Kenny will bust something. Boss is on his ass already. Supposed to have finished the work on ten and the plumbing’s still fucked. Don’t think he needs someone else riding his ass.”
“Sure.”
“But come back,” the woman said, wandering to her seat. “Any time. If Jagg’s here, you wait long enough, you’ll see him around.”
Good point and just the excuse she needed. The more time she spent there, the more she’d learn… and they’d be more open as they got to know her.
“Thanks,” she said, putting her hood back up. “I’ll do that.”
Damn, well, that wasn’t as informative as she’d hoped it would be. If Yvonne’s picture was there, she could call Lachlan and save the woman straight away.
Marathon. If it was a marathon instead of a sprint, she could only hope Yvonne had enough time. With every second that passed, the woman was enduring more pain, more torture, more… she couldn’t even imagine.
Hope.
Yvonne better be holding on. They needed time… would they have enough?