Read Callie's Last Dance (a Donovan Creed Novel) Online
Authors: John Locke
57.
I DON’T JUDGE people. When I accept a contract for hire, I take the attitude my victim has already been tried, found guilty, and sentenced by the person paying my fee. It’s easier that way, and prevents me from getting too wrapped up in “he-said-she-said” types of issues.
Likewise, I didn’t kill Tom and Connie because they had an affair. Half the people you pass on the street every day are having affairs. What sort of person would I be if I went around killing all of them? And although I never cheated on my wife, I certainly cheated on some of my girlfriends.
Most of them.
Well, okay, all of them.
So I’m not entirely without empathy.
But I didn’t kill Tom and Connie because they were cheating. I killed them because their affair set off a chain reaction that nearly cost Callie her life and the use of her legs. You can argue it wasn’t Connie and Tom’s fault, and I’d agree with you, to a point. I mean, had Connie fucked Tom at his house, the results would have been different. Ridley would have killed them both, or killed one of them, or Tom might have killed Ridley. In any case, the argument would have remained between those who were involved.
It’s a matter of respect.
Rose says my great-great grandfather Emmett Love was a sheriff and saloon keeper in Dodge City, Kansas, in the eighteen-sixties. I’ll bet if two cowboys got into an argument in his establishment he’d tell them to take it outside. Why? Because that keeps the argument between those who have a vested interest in the outcome. If they started shooting up the saloon, innocent people might get hurt. And I’ll bet Sheriff Love wouldn’t allow something like that to go unpunished.
I didn’t punish Tom and Connie for fucking outside their marriage, but for failing to take their outside-of-the marriage-fucking outside.
You know, figuratively.
But they didn’t. They took their affair to the Winston Parke Hotel, in downtown Cincinnati, and drew me and Callie into it. And right or wrong, you don’t put my loved ones in harm’s way without being severely rebuked. And you certainly don’t expose my loved ones to possible death and live to tell about it.
58.
Six Weeks Later.
Top Six Lounge.
Las Vegas.
THE CLUB IS packed, the customers charged with anticipation. Carmine takes his seat. The house lights dim. The MC cues up the mike and says, “Our long-time customers will remember the greatest stripper in modern history, Vegas Moon, and how the Top Six flourished when she ruled the stage!”
The crowd cheers.
“Vegas Moon’s real name is Gwen Peters, and now she’s back, as a part owner! Gwen is now responsible for interviewing, hiring, training, and managing the Top Six girls!”
More applause.
“Gwen’s kicked ass and taken names. No more three-piece band, or feedback mikes. She’s put in a state-of-the-art sound system. Finest in the county! You’ll get to hear it in a minute. And wait till you see the new light show! I swear it’s like being at a million-dollar concert!”
He pauses. Then says, “But Gwen’s made some other changes around here. Of course, you won’t care about them unless you like gorgeous women.”
The audience hoots and hollers.
“I’ve gotta tell you folks. I was backstage just now and I literally creamed my jeans! Gwen is in the fucking house! And she cleaned
out
the house! Remember Shirl, our nurse? She’s the only one in the whole place who made the cut. Everyone else? Gone with the wind! I think you’ll like what Gwen has done to Shirl’s nurse’s costume. Want to see it?”
The crowd calls,
Shirl-ee! Shirl—ee
!
The MC says, “Come say hi, Shirl!”
Shirl comes out wearing only a g-string, nurse’s hat, and stethoscope, and the crowd shows their appreciation as she scampers off the stage.
The MC brings out the new girls, one at a time, each more beautiful than the one before. When they’re all on stage, an electronic drumbeat starts, and the lights go out. A moment later, the lights and music synch, and twelve girls are suddenly doing choreographed moves that would impress the NFL’s finest dancers.
Except that Gwen’s girls are completely nude, except for their g-strings.
The crowd goes wild, and Carmine stands to take a bow.
Eleven girls leave the stage while one remains behind to dance. Every four minutes a new girl comes on stage, in her stripper outfit, and does a dance that ends with a few seconds of complete frontal nudity.
But the highlight of the night comes at the end of the show when Gwen takes the stage in a skimpy outfit to ask the crowd what they thought.
They loved it.
She tells them it’s only going to get better from here on out, and says she’d like to introduce the newest member of Carmine’s team, his new accountant, Willow.
Willow comes on stage nervously. The crowd can tell she’s extremely shy. She’s wearing glasses, a business suit, and has her hair pinched back in a tight bun.
The crowd offers her polite applause.
Then Gwen coaxes Willow to the center of the stage.
When she’s there, Gwen says, “A little help please?”
Two of the dancers come out and grab Willow’s wrists.
She yells, “What are you doing?” and tries to get away, but the other girls are too strong.
Gwen says, “I don’t care how good you are with numbers. You don’t come on
my
stage without getting naked!”
“No!” Willow shrieks, but the crowd turns on her like sharks on chum.
As Willow cries out, Gwen’s girls come out one at a time and rip a piece of Willow’s clothing off. The more they tear, the wilder the crowd gets.
Until Willow is down to her bra and panties.
The crowd is going insane. Shouting at the dancers to strip Willow.
Finally, one of the girls unhooks her bra from behind.
Willow shouts, “No!”
The crowd is on their feet, cheering the view of Willow’s breasts.
Willow looks terrified.
Gwen looks mischievous.
Do it! Do it! Do it!
The audience chants.
Gwen steps up to the mike and says, “Well, after all, she’s an accountant, not a stripper.”
She looks at Willow and says, “Unless you always secretly
wanted
to be a stripper!”
“No!” Willow says.
Gwen says, “They really love you, Willow, don’t you boys?”
The audience cheers. They love her.
Gwen quiets them down and says, “Release her.”
The two dancers release her and Willow puts one hand over her breasts, the other over her crotch.
“It’s up to you, Willow,” Gwen says. “This is your moment. Your once-in-a-lifetime. You could wiggle out of your panties for just a few seconds, and have the memory of getting the greatest ovation the club has ever heard. Am I right folks?”
She is.
The crowd’s in a frenzy.
Willow appears torn. But it’s clear she likes the applause. She slowly removes her hands, and tentatively shakes her tits.
An action that brings the house down.
When she steps out of her panties the audience loses it.
And Carmine’s new accountant, Willow, receives the greatest ovation the club has ever given.
Afterward, backstage, Gwen says, “Nice call on the accountant strip thing.”
“Thanks,” Willow says. “It’s a good start.”
Gwen says, “I can’t wait till we own the place!”
Willow winks. “I’m working on it!”
EPILOGUE
AT PRECISELY FIVE-FORTY my limo pulls up to 99 East 52
nd
Street.
“Wish me well,” I say.
Callie kisses me. “Leave your phone on so I can hear. I’ll be close by in case you need me.”
“I doubt anyone would try to ambush me here, but—”
“But you never know. And anyway, I hate you being out of my sight, even for a couple of hours.”
“Thanks.”
“What if it’s two women he wants you to meet? What if they’re hookers and he’s got a big evening planned for the two of you?”
“What would you do if that happened?”
“Kill him.”
“You’d kill the man who saved your life?”
“I’ve already thanked him for that. Plus, he got to see me naked.”
“Good point.”
As I exit the car, Callie says, “If Rose is one of the guests, tell her I said hi.”
“Will do.”
I enter the door, climb the stairs that take me to a restaurant I haven’t been to in years.
The Four Seasons.
Dr. Box is waiting for me in the lounge area.
“Ready?” he says.
I look around, checking for anything that seems out of place.
If something is, they’ve done a hell of a job, because I can’t find it.
I follow Dr. Box into the Pool Room and scan the tables, but detect no one even remotely familiar to me. Eventually I see our destination is a table in the far corner. There’s a woman seated there, with her back to me, sitting with a little dark-haired girl.
“Ladies,” Dr. Box says as we approach, “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, Donovan Creed.”
The lady stands, turns, and extends her hand.
“Hello, Donovan,” she says. “I’m so glad you could join us tonight. This is my daughter, Addie.”
I take a deep breath and say, “Hello, Kathleen.”
THE END
Willow Breeland and Dr. Gideon Box became famous in the Amazon #1 best-selling medical thriller,
Bad Doctor
.
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