Turning away from her colleagues, Harlow checked four ways for traffic and headed to the bar, trying not to think about the adjoining street where Ryske had slithered down the wall and passed out. The last time, her first time, in Floyd’s was something of a blur, even though it hadn’t been that long ago.
Wiping her mind, prioritizing focus, this wasn’t the time to be reliving the traumatic memory of that night. She had to get her poker face on.
Harlow had never played poker, but when she walked through the corner doors of Floyd’s and paused to let her eyes adjust, she thought she did an okay job of keeping her expression blank. It wasn’t easy. Dozens of eyes scrutinized her. The place was packed. Music played on the jukebox, loud, but not as loud as the conversation filling the room.
The wooden furniture was painted black, just like the floor. There was wood paneling up half the walls that matched the color of the bar, which, although it was chipped and scratched, was still glossed enough to have a dull shine. Opening a hand on it when she got there, Harlow made a mental note to compliment Dover for taking care of it.
None of the stools matched, but neither did any of the tables and chairs. If what she’d heard about Floyd’s was accurate, there were fights in there almost every night. Replacing individual items probably made more sense than refitting the whole establishment every time a table was cracked or a chair smashed.
The first man she noticed behind the bar wasn’t one she recognized. Vigilance prickled the back of her neck. Coming in under the assumption that Ryske’s crew would be around might have been a mistake. If they weren’t, she was a chicken who’d just wandered into a packed foxhole and from the looks of it, these foxes were hungry.
Lingering for a moment before taking a seat, Harlow was reconsidering whether or not this was a good idea. Just then, a familiar face walked around the curve of the bar. Dover. He didn’t immediately notice her, he was too busy frowning at his patrons, probably wondering what had them so fascinated.
Relieved that her bold move hadn’t been a bust, Harlow took the opportunity to slide onto a stool, acting like she hadn’t doubted her decision to come for a moment.
A second familiar face came around the corner; this one on her side of the bar rather than behind it. Noon. Harlow didn’t focus on him. Instead, she looked past the unfamiliar bartender who was heading toward her, and fixated on Dover whose attention was drifting her way.
Dover was almost upon her by the time he noticed she was there. Seeing him smile was encouraging. The unknown bartender asked if she wanted a drink, but she ignored him. Dover did too.
“It’s about time you came home, babe,” Dover said, nodding his worker-bee out of the way. The guy did a double take, but did as told and scurried off. “I should dock your allowance, Nightingale.”
Not only a smile, but a tease too. That was big praise and such a relief. “Does that make you my daddy?” she asked, broadening the curve of her lips.
The man sliding onto the stool by hers paused halfway on and off. “Uh, I don’t think I was supposed to hear that,” Noon said.
Slipping a familiar hand onto his thigh, a friendly pat completed their reunion.
“Why?” Dover asked. “You afraid to admit that makes you her stunted little brother?”
There was no more than a couple of years between the men, but Noon was a lot less mature and more impulsive than business owner Dover.
Heading them off before they could descend further into playing, Harlow was aware of her clock and put both forearms on the bar to bring herself closer to it. “Am I allowed to be in here?”
Dover put both hands on the bar. “Any guy who doesn’t remember your performance the last time you were here, is probably just impressed that you had the balls to walk in at all. You won’t get into any trouble, babe.”
“Yeah,” Noon said, swigging from the beer bottle he must have brought with him. “Chick like you classes up the joint.”
“Which is probably exactly what your clientele doesn’t want,” she said and raised a shoulder in apology. “No offense.”
Dover laughed. “You think I confuse this place for a fancy Manhattan wine bar? Forget about it, Nightingale. We got what we like and we like what we got.” She loved that philosophy. “What do you wanna drink?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I just came in for—”
“He’s not here,” Noon said, turning to Dover. “We could buzz Maze, but—”
“I’m not looking for Ryske,” she said. Whatever their assumptions about the why, Harlow didn’t insult the men’s intelligence by pretending she didn’t know who they’d assumed she was looking for. Seeing their expectation made her cringe. “Maze is the one I want to talk to actually.”
“Your computer broken?” Noon asked, puffing up a little. “I’m okay with electronics.”
Dover scoffed. “Yeah, if that were true, what would we need Maze for? Oh wait, I forgot, you’re an asshole. Always handy to have one of those around.”
The way they beat up on Noon was always in good fun. In secret, the crew adored him. But her maternal side was always stirred when the others poked at him, even in spite of Noon being older than her.
“I don’t think you’re an asshole,” she said, picking up Noon’s arm to put it around her. “I think you’re adorable.”
“Yeah, see, I’m adorable,” Noon said, pulling her closer while making a face at Dover. She didn’t see it, but Dover repaid Noon in kind.
“Puppies are adorable,” Dover said. “She thinks you’re a pathetic slobbering mutt who’s not smart enough to know where to piss… Hmm, guess she does know you.”
Ignoring Dover, Harlow put her head on Noon’s shoulder. “I was thinking about you earlier,” she said.
“No kidding?” Noon said. “You want to come upstairs with me, Nightingale?”
Dover blanked his face. “No women allowed upstairs. And you do know Ryske would kill you dead if you tried it, right?” he asked Noon. “With his bare hands, you’d just be dead.”
Ryske had told her what was under Floyd’s floor, not what was above. “What’s upstairs?” she asked, curious about why women weren’t allowed and why Ryske would have a problem with Noon taking her there.
“Among other things: beds.”
Harlow could only laugh. She didn’t believe for a second that Noon would ever make a move on her.
“I wasn’t thinking that,” Noon said. “Thought I could order the lady some Chinese food. Wait with her for Maze.”
Dover wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, and liquor her up.”
“I really can’t stay to get drunk,” she said and checked her watch. “Or at all really… will Maze be around tomorrow?”
“He’ll be around tonight,” Dover said. “Just doing a recce. He should be back any minute.”
A recce? Reconnaissance? Harlow wasn’t going to ask. At least wherever they were, Ryske and Maze were together. Should help if anyone thought to stab one of them.
“Is this a computer specific problem?” Noon asked.
“No,” she said. “He just always said to me that he’d feel better when his debt was paid.” Appealing to them both, she ensured to make eye contact. “I never considered what happened with Ryske a debt, you know that. But I need help and—”
“If one of us has a debt to you, we’re all on the hook for it,” Dover said, bending down to rest both forearms on the bar. Noon got closer too. Harlow realized she was enveloped in the covert huddle of Ryske’s crew. Well, half of them anyway. She was in the coveted and privileged huddle. In it. “Why don’t you fill us in?”
She didn’t have a lot of time, her colleagues could walk in any second. If she went out there to say she got nothing and set nothing in motion, Harlow would lose respect not gain it. Though surviving in Floyd’s should score her some points… in theory.
She took a deep breath. “I—”
“Wait,” Dover said and turned around to duck down.
When he got back up, he was pouring chilled white wine into a glass.
Smiling, Harlow accepted the drink and took a sip. “How much wine do you serve in here?” she said, licking her lips and nodding in approval. “It’s good.”
“Got it just for you. We knew you’d be back…” Wow, she was stunned. Not only that he’d ordered something for the bar for her, but that they’d had faith. In the time since she’d last seen Ryske, Harlow had assumed the crew had forgotten about her. Apparently they hadn’t. “Tell us your story, Nightingale,” Dover said, leaning close again.
Getting over her surprise, Harlow was quick about filling them in. Knowing that there wasn’t much time, she gave them the cliff notes version.
“So basically…” she said, having brought them up to speed. “I need to know if this kid is in trouble. No, let me rephrase. I know he’s in trouble, I just need to know how deep.”
Neither man spoke, but she recognized the solemn expression they exchanged. “You came to the right place,” Dover said.
Hope made her sit up straighter. “You know where he is?”
Noon shook his head. “No, but we will within twenty-four hours.”
Dover was confident too. “We’ll come to yours with what we find. It’s safer.”
Alarm struck her. “I thought you said I was safe here.”
“Here you’re golden,” Dover said. “Especially with us around.”
Noon leaned in to bump his shoulder on hers. “And at least one of us is always around Floyd’s.”
“But getting here isn’t as safe,” Dover explained. “You know what this neighborhood is like more than most outsiders.”
After what she’d gone through with Ryske. The acknowledgment that she had some experience was the most respectful thing anyone had said to her that month. Funny that the criminals should be kinder than the non-criminals.
Now that she was in Floyd’s, Harlow was enjoying herself. Just spending a few minutes with Dover and Noon had been more fun than a whole night with her work colleagues. It made her realize that she didn’t want this to be the last time she was ever there.
“I don’t mind visiting,” Harlow said.
“You haven’t visited until now,” Noon said. “What took you so long, Nightingale?”
Dover cleared his throat and she caught him shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want us to come to you?” he asked when he noticed her peering at him.
Still curious, she just shook her head. “I want to visit… Unless you think someone will have a problem with me being here?”
The look he tried to disguise was telling, but didn’t reveal enough for her to figure it out. “No. No one will have a problem,” Dover said. “I guess the way you keep looking at that watch, you have somewhere you need to be. You want Noon to give you a ride?”
“I have colleagues waiting outside.”
Noon hit his chest. “Oh, I’m wounded.”
But he was smiling, so she smiled along and drained her glass before slipping off her stool. “What do I owe you for the wine?”
Leaning over the bar, Dover touched his cheek. “Lay one on me and we’re square.”
Noon steadied her as she boosted up to kiss Dover’s cheek. Despite having done it plenty before, it made her blush to kiss him in front of this many witnesses. Since Noon had been as kind, she was compelled to offer him a cheek-kiss too.
“Thank you both. This means so much to me. You have no idea.”
“Our debt will never be repaid with favors like this. You saved Ryske’s life. Show your face any time.”
Backing away from the bar, Harlow was pleased to have accomplished something and done it without coming across as a crazy stalker. It was a relief that Ryske hadn’t been around; she hadn’t needed to embarrass herself by looking like she’d used an excuse to see him again.
Except, Harlow would be back tomorrow and had no idea what that would bring.