Up early the next morning, I begin my research. Google, surprisingly, only gives me minor details about Sy Allen. I search for Symon and Simon, but to no avail. The World Wide Web has next to nothing about the mysterious man before he graduated college and started his company. Kathleen, on the other hand, is all over the place. Born into a conservative family in Pensacola, Florida, her parents doted on her from the day she was born until their untimely deaths three decades later. From the most expensive of material possessions to the best private schools in the area, our girl has always had everything she could ever wish for... and then some.
I wonder how the Welches felt when she went to the University of Florida instead of an Ivy League school. Her high school, where she met Sy, was exclusive and private. The university, not so much. Sure, it takes work to get accepted and tuition isn't exactly cheap, but shouldn't Kathleen have followed the pattern and gone to a more prestigious university?
There are a few photos of the couple together, but there's nothing, in hundreds of searches, about Sy's family or where he came from. His enrollment records for both high school and the university are sealed, even to someone with my immortal skills. There's nothing personal about him at all, other than what was reported by various news organizations when he went public with his company, and later, the engagement of the couple.
After spending hours in front of my computer I decide to go a different route with my research. Sy Allen, or someone in his place, booked Aslyn and me for the bachelor party. I call Rocks, but there's no answer. At eight, I grab my coat and drive to the bar in hopes Artie will have some info on the groom. I know it's a long shot, but I'm grasping for anything I can get at this point. I'm not quite in panic mode, but I know it's only a matter of time. I only have three days to make sure this wedding happens and I don't have a whole lot to go on.
The music hits me before I walk inside the door. Formerly called Laci's Lounge, Artie inherited the place from a dead ex and changed the name. While Laci's was a bit more classy, Rocks is pretty much anything goes as long as Artie doesn't get caught. There are all kinds of side transactions going on, but no drugs. Prostitution? Underage patrons? No problem. Just don't be bringing any powder or herbs inside his place. He has standards, you know.
I snort to myself.
The man has no standards.
I walk inside the smoky bar and grin when I see Aslyn gyrating against another of the girls, Brandi. There are glittery red hearts all over the walls and silver and pink cupids are hanging from every light in the place. If Artie thought cheesy Valentine's Day decorations might class up the place, he was sadly mistaken. It looks ridiculous.
Brandi and Aslyn could almost pass for twins, which is why they're so popular as an act together. Aslyn spots me over the heads of her audience and winks as she drops to her knees and pretends to worship Brandi's pussy. Whether they've ever actually played around is doubtful, but the audience eats up the faux girl-on-girl sex act going on. Both women are in their standard garb, g-strings, and fuck-me heels. Their bare boobs are bouncing as they dance. Watching them do this particular routine would have me hard as a rock if I swung that way. Hell, even though I don't, it's still sexy as fuck. Hands are everywhere and Aslyn's face is moving back and forth against the satin of Brandi's g-string. After watching the routine enough, I know that her mouth is making minimal contact, but the crowd surrounding the small stage doesn't. The routine ends as it always does with the girls in each other's arms and using a little tongue in a kiss. The music stops, the spotlight goes off, and the women make their way offstage by way of the back. Bouncers collect the cash thrown onstage during the performance to be divided equally between Brandi and Aslyn later.
I stand just inside the door until it's over before making my way to the bar where Artie's standing, his tongue practically wagging over what he's just seen. He doesn't, nor do some of the other patrons, attempt to hide his hard-on or the fact that he's openly squeezing his dick through his pants. Artie's only in his mid to late fifties, so he isn't quite what would be considered ancient. That doesn't stop the employees from seeing him as a dirty, old man. Thankfully, he's not interested in men or I'd likely be on the other end of his obvious sexual harassment as well.
I lean in to speak over the music, trying to ignore the blatant dick squeezing.
“Got a minute?”
He nods and I turn and follow him to his office in the back of the building. Once we're both inside and he's behind his desk, I close the door.
“I'll get to the point, Artie. The bachelor party last night.”
He motions for me to continue.
“How do I get in touch with the groom?”
“Now, Eros, you know I can't give out-”
“I have to get in touch with the groom, Artie.”
“Why?” he asks suspiciously.
“I lost my wallet,” I think quickly. “I've looked everywhere and can't find it. It must've fallen out of my jacket pocket at the bachelor party.”
He leans back in his chair and chuckles.
“I'm sure that's not all that fell out.”
“Artie.” My tone tells him I'm not in the mood to joke around.
“I don't know, kid. He didn't book the party. Someone else did. A woman, I think?”
“A woman?” I plop down in a nearby chair.
I'm a little surprised. Who would do it? A bridesmaid or girlfriend of one of the guys? The freaking bride? No, it wouldn't be Kathleen Welch.
I don't care what the groom said about her knowing he's gay. I don't buy it for a second. Hmm... unless she discovered his sexuality and that's why the wedding is to be called off. But didn't Sy say that he’d requested me specifically? Maybe Kathleen thought it would be your run of the mill bachelor party with a female stripper. She may not have expected a gay - male - stripper to show up with Aslyn.
“Eros?”
Artie's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry. Why would a woman book a stripper for a bachelor party? Isn't that the best man's job?”
“Don't know. Don't care. Once everything was settled the fee was paid and that was that.”
“How was the fee paid?”
I'm hoping it'll give me insight into who the mysterious woman is.
“An envelope for Aslyn was delivered here before you guys went last night. I gave it to her when she came to work today.” He reaches inside a drawer and pulls out an envelope with my name on it and tosses it to me. “Apparently somebody was quite pleased with your performance last night.”
I open the envelope and pull out twenty one hundred dollar bills. The envelope isn't sealed, which I find odd.
“What the hell?” I place the cash back in the envelope and toss it back at Artie, offended that I was basically being paid for a fuck. “Give it to Aslyn. She has tuition.” I move to stand up and notice a small piece of paper on the floor. When I pick it up and read what's typed on it, I smile. Apparently hundred dollar bills weren't all that was in the envelope. I point at Artie's desk.
“Make sure that goes to Aslyn. If I find out you've kept one penny of that cash, I'll kick your ass and have you shut down.”
I'm out the door before he can respond. I'm almost to the exit of the bar when I turn around and make my way back the way I came. At the end of a long hall, I tap on the door of the girls' dressing room. Once inside, I motion for Aslyn, now dressed in her street garb, to walk into the hall.
“What's up, hon?” she asks.
“Artie has money for you for last night's job. When you get it, text me with the amount, 'k?”
“I've already been paid for that.”
“I know, but this is a bonus.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I place a finger over her lips.
“Just take it, okay? I don't need it and you just started another semester at school. No arguments.”
She nods and I remove my finger. I move to walk away, but stop when she touches my arm.
“Why do you work here, Eros? You obviously don't need the money and I can tell by your attitude toward this place that you aren't doing it for fun.”
I pull her into a tight hug and whisper in her hair, “Sometimes you've just got to do things that are different. This is my different.”
I pull out of her arms and walk away, continuing until I'm out the front door and in my car.
So much for not making connections or having feelings. Aslyn, in the few weeks I've known her, has somehow wormed her way into my heart.
I've been here too long.
One more assignment and I'm gone.
Really.