Chapter Four

“What’re you doing here?” said the kid behind the counter.

I growled at him for staring at me with his wide eyes and for his overly surprised tone. True, I didn’t spend a lot of weekdays supervising the club, but that shouldn’t have been enough to make him question my motivation.

“Are you my keeper, now?” I demanded.

“N-n-no,” he stuttered, and I sighed loudly.

It was a kid I only vaguely recognized. Who the hell hired someone so young? He was probably barely old enough to be in there himself. I was now officially drunk, and not in the mood for new people.

“What’re you doing here?” I asked, turning the question on him.

“I check coats,” he replied.

“But you recognize me?” I wanted to know, and he nodded. “And you’ve probably heard the stories.”

“S-s-some.”

I sighed again, and wondered if he really had a stutter, or if he was just actually that nervous. I had heard some of the more exaggerated tales myself, and I didn’t blame him for quavering a bit, but good God.

“Grow a set,” I muttered.

“Pardon?”

“They’re mostly made up,” I confided. “I’ve never killed a man for questioning me. If the question was a good one. And I’m probably not going to fire you for that look on your face.”

“Okay,” said the kid.

He looked only mildly relieved, and I found myself wondering if he’d be likely to wet his pants if I drew my gun and put it on the counter in front of him.

“Do you also give coats?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes, slowly. I was glad no one else was there to see the exchange. The kid was dense. If I did fire him, I’d probably be doing him a favour. It would keep him from getting killed in the near future by a less gregarious boss. I grinned, as I thought of myself as the nicest alternative in a world of thugs.

“Do you also give coats?” I repeated. “You know. If I hand over this little green piece of paper, can I get my jacket back?”

His face went red, and he grabbed the ticket from my outstretched hand.

I waited as patiently as I could manage. I wanted to get home, drink a bit more and watch some PVRed horror movies. What would the nervous kid would think of that?

Big bad boss, cuddled up under a blanket while taking in a classic slasher flick, I smiled. He’d probably never believe it, even if I told him that’s what I was going to do. Unless I told him I was taking notes for work, of course...

I was riding the high of the information Yun had given me when I made the decision to come down to the club. Getting a drink and maybe even socializing to celebrate had seemed like a good idea. And I had actually thought the bar was an especially appropriate place to celebrate my first break in finding Colin’s murderer. After all, it had been my brother’s little investment. I had wholeheartedly opposed it at the time, of course. I’d been furious when I’d found out what he’d done with his inheritance.

“You couldn’t pick something more worthwhile?” I fumed.

“I want to do something I care about,” Colin told me.

“And you care about what? Dancing? Drinking? Wasting Mom’s money?”

He sighed. “That’s your biggest problem, John. You still think of the money as hers. It’s not hers. It’s ours. She left it to us for a reason.”

“And that reason was to go to school,” I reminded him angrily.

“No,” Colin argued. “It was to give us a chance at life.”

I growled, feeling totally exasperated as I usually did when dealing with this particular topic.

“You’re too much like Dad,” my brother said. “You don’t think money is for spending. At least Mom knew that is what it’s for.”

“Mom grew up wealthy,” I told him. “She never had to think about where the next dollar was coming from. Dad had to work for every last goddamned dime.”

Colin threw up his hands.

“Fine!” he shouted. “I’ll go after a career, too.”

“Good,” I replied, feeling victorious.

“Good,” he said back.

But that was before he’d told me his career choice was going to be the same as mine, and before it had gone and gotten him killed.

And when he’d died, I’d been stuck with the club. I wanted to sell it at first, I really did. But I couldn’t make myself do it. So even though I hadn’t approved of it at all when Colin had purchased it, I’d made an honest effort to turn the bar into something worthwhile.

Truthfully, owning it didn’t hurt my reputation, either. And it did make quite a bit of money. I felt guilty, knowing that Colin had been right.

I had wanted to enjoy my evening, thinking I was getting closer to finding out what the tattoo drawing had meant, and to finding out who had killed him.

Then I had spotted the girl, the slim, blonde one from the tattoo parlour, out on the dance floor. With the brunette’s obvious physical charms out of the way, I could see that the blonde really was quite pretty. Maybe even beautiful. I watched her shake in time to the music, and decided there was no maybe about it. I sipped my drink and smiled as I looked at her. It was obvious she wasn’t usually much of a dancer, not because she didn’t have rhythm, just because she didn’t have the wanton abandon of the usual club girls. I even went so far as toying with the idea of approaching her before I reminded myself that the last thing I needed was a distraction.

Then Monato was there, all over her.

I put my drink down carefully when I saw him. The man set my teeth on edge. I knew all about his so-called business—dealing women to the high rolling card players and drug dealers who were always lurking nearby. And dealing drugs to those same women to keep them under his thumb.

Creepy little shit. I watched him gyrate against the blonde.

She had been smiling, and laughing. Then all of sudden she wasn’t. When Monato grabbed her, I had acted without thinking, rushing to rescue her and to send the other man packing.

I cursed myself for doing it. Playing superhero was not in my repertoire of tricks. Being in the habit of saving strangers would tend to give my clients the wrong idea about me. So even as I’d done it, I’d regretted it.

Dumb move, Seever, I told myself again.

That was why I needed to get away from the club as quickly as possible. And there I was, waiting for the kid to get my coat.

“What the Hell is taking so long,” I muttered. “It’s just a jacket.”

I needed to get out—away from the odd looks I’d received from my crew as they’d watched me kiss the girl’s hand. What had possessed me to do that anyway? With the way things were going I’d probably have to justify it later. I’d ordered another drink to drown my irritation, but it had only increased my frustration.

And when Monato had cornered me after our little exchange, it had taken everything in my power to not strangle him, then and there.

“The girl really yours?” he’d asked.

“Why are you in my club, Monato?” I replied.

“Checking out the competition,” he told me.

“You’re not exactly what I’d call competition,” I said coldly. “Why are you interested in the girl?”

“She’s just my friend’s type.”

Monato’s laugh set my teeth on edge once again.

“You’ve got friends?” I countered.

He shrugged. “A few.”

I rolled my eyes. His whole crew was never further than three feet away.

“So she’s not yours?” Monato persisted.

“Everything in this club is mine. And she happens to be just my type, too,” I stated.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “She’s my girl. In every sense of the word. Maybe soon to be something even more.”

“That so? Funny how I’ve actually never seen you with a girl,” Monato said. “Me, I’ve got a new one each week.”

“That’s what I hear, too,” I replied. “You have a hard time getting them to stay?”

Monato’s face had gone dark. I wasn’t normally so mouthy—it just made good business sense to play nice, even with him—and I tried, unsuccessfully to back it up a bit.

“I’m getting bored of this little pissing contest,” I told him. “Pack your friends up. Stay away from my girl. And get out of my club.”

He’d stomped off in his typical fashion.

I shook my head irritably and hoped I still had some whiskey in my apartment. I was going to drink to the point of numbness and take tomorrow off.

“Hey!” I called to the coat check kid.

No answer. I pulled a key from my pocket and let myself into the abyss of a cloakroom. There was still no sign of the kid. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I sensed something wasn’t quite right. I went very still and waited. Cool air wafted in from somewhere, and a groan came from up ahead.

“Christ,” I complained, knowing already what I’d find as I stepped further into the room.

The kid was lying on the floor with a trickle of blood oozing from his forehead. He struggled to open his eyes, and I grabbed a random coat to prop him up. I kneeled down and put the makeshift pillow under him.

“You gotta be more careful,” I told him. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Monato,” the kid mumbled.

“What?” I thought I’d misheard him.

“Monato,” he repeated, a little more clearly.

“Your name is Monato?” I asked harshly.

If some idiot has gone and hired a relative of that jerk-off, I thought. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

The kid shook his head and groaned again. “No. Not me. Monato came through. He had a girl over his shoulder.”

“He what?”

I let the kid flop down onto the coat. I stood up quickly and swept the room with my eyes. I cursed myself for not seeing it before. The door between the bar storeroom and the coat check room was wide open, and the emergency exit at the very back, hidden behind a sea of jackets, was also open, just a crack.

I knew without asking which girl Monato had over his shoulder. There was only one reason he would’ve taken her, and it had everything to do with getting back at me for taking her from him in the first place.