Mr. Mysterious In Black (2 page)

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’ll reschedule all I’d planned here in Chicago and fly in first thing in the morning. I’m expecting a full report of all the events that took place within the last month.”

His fingers trembled as he pressed off the call and sank to his knees, dropping his head in his hands as his broad shoulders jerked in agony.

Oh, my sweet, brown-eyed girl, what are you doing to yourself? I’ve waited too long, haven’t I? Seven years too long. Damn…

I
ridescent rays danced across my partially nude body as I wrapped my bare, long legs around the cold stainless steel that was, at the moment, my fortress. Imbibing half bottle of Coffee Patrón within a two-hour span was proving to be a really, really bad idea. My mind was a vortex, my vision turbid and my bones liquefied.

I opened my eyes and regarded my onlookers who bore lascivious smiles and held green bills aloft. All were wealthy and powerful business men whose wives were either forty pounds heavier than when they’d first tied the knot to do any justice to a sexy lingerie, or they’ve simply lost the sparks they once had.

As I serpentined to the center of the stage, I noticed, through my blurry vision, that Mr. Mysterious in Black was present. Ensconced in his rented booth, a lone sporter as usual, regarding me intently. Weird, was how I’d describe him. He never dances with anyone, but merely sits in his booth all night and stares at me, watching my every move. Sometimes I get the inane thought that he’s some sort of a serial killer who preys on vulnerable women. If such was the case though, it would be a complete waste of a perfectly hot hunk.

I have always kept my distance from him, have never seen him up close, and club lights do have the tendency of making anyone look good. But if my distant scrutinies didn’t lie, then I’d say he’s one alluring sonuvabitch. All dark-haired, square-jawed and fiery intense. Viewing him up close was necessary to be ascertained, though.
Not like that’s ever going to happen.

With alcohol fueled bravery, I winked at him and flashed a coquettish smile. His response was a disapproving scowl and the averting of his eyes.

Ouch.

I was only—because I was drunk tonight—trying to be nice; as a way of atonement for my numerous refusals to his persistent requests for a dance with me. No way was I going within a foot of him. He was too…intimidating. He only wore the shade black and no one seemed to have any information on him—well, at least they
say
they don’t. It’s as if he was feared or something. That’s why I nicknamed him Mr. Mysterious in Black.

I snaked tortuously up my stainless steel fortress, closing my eyes and allowing myself to float away on the waves of Michael Jackson’s
Dirty Dianna
. Torn now, and starting feeling like a Dirty Sadie myself. Being dragged back to the reality of why I’d gotten this drunk in the first place. Why I’d subjected myself to this plebeian job. Why I was so disoriented.

Feeling like breaking an arbitrary rule—that had been given
only
to me—I awkwardly tried to undo my bra. At the undoing of the first hook, I lost my grip and went spiraling to the floor. Much too debilitated to move even a finger, I remained on the stage floor and listened as Michael Jackson screamed like a bitch in my ears, telling me how dirty I was. For seconds, minutes or hours, maybe, I just remained sprawled on the stage. Until I felt hands on my arms and feet, and my body being carried away as I was being rescued off-stage.

There was soon something soft and plush beneath me. The couch in the dress room I assumed. My eyes flicked open and I blinked rapidly, trying to gain sight of my surroundings. Catching a familiar form, I let my eyes tentatively travel up to the Stygian, glowering gaze of my pissed off boss. His wavy blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his black muscle shirt stretched helplessly over his fully matured brawns. Tico was a big man. A
really
big man.

“What the hell is wrong with you tonight, huh?” he growled.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, I groaned. My eyes darted around the cluttered room. Bright round bulbs lined above rows of make-up mirrors that each had a fully or half-naked girl seated in front of it painting new faces over their original ones. Feathers and fluffs and bras and various dance costumes were strewed all around as girls strolled in and out of the dressing room. Pleased to find that no one was paying attention to Tico and me, I relaxed.

Failing to meet his angry eyes again, I said, “I just fell on my ass, Tico. Have some pity on me, will you?”

“You fell on your ass because you were trying to defy me. I told you: do
not
remove your bra!!”

“It’s an enigma why this rule applies only to me,” I said in indignation. “How the hell am I supposed to make money? I’m not allowed to dance with anyone and I’m not allowed to go topless. What’s the point of me being here then?”

“Because I, your
boss
, said so! And for the money, you don’t need it. Yes, Sadie, I wonder, too, why do you think you need to be here?”

I gazed up at him as if he’d spoken a distinct language. Uh, let’s see: because I lost my job merely a week after dumping my good-for-nothing-but-trouble drug dealer of a boyfriend. Have difficulties getting another job. Student loans—debt. My mother’s ailment—debt. Three months’ worth of rent owed to Brenda, and I’ll be out on my ass if I don’t have her rent by the time she returns from her excursion—more debt.

I closed my eyes and swung an arm across my face. “I won’t even attempt at answering that question, Tico.”

Tico sighed. “It’s only because I can’t
say
, Sadie,” he gently removed my hand from my face and gazed down at me with an I-know-something-that-you-don’t-know expression. “But trust me, you don’t need to be here. This job is not for you.”

“No, it’s definitely not for me. On that I can agree. But I need the money.”

Tico grunted in frustration just as a cocktail waitress strolled in with a glass of ice and a bottle of Club Soda. Taking the tray from her, he poured the Club Soda in the glass and sat next to me on the couch, bringing the glass to my lips, “Drink this.”

Without hesitation I drank, because frankly, I hated being drunk. I needed nothing more than to head home and fall into an infinite sleep. “Thanks.”

Tico smiled his signature panty-dropping smile. “My pleasure, Sadie.” He leaned over to whisper so only I could hear, “Just don’t forget me when Prosperity starts begging to be your best friend.” He revealed that I-know-something-that-you-don’t-know expression again, got up and strolled from the room without a backward glance.

What the heck was
that
supposed to mean?

As I tried to think through my intoxicated brain about Tico’s inexplicable behavior, I felt familiar hands wrap around me, and I allowed my head to rest on her shoulders. “Thanks Kash, I needed that.”

“Sadie, I know you got some awful news tonight, but I can assure you, Patrón is nobody’s friend,” Kash said, her brown eyes sincere, her caramel skin glowing. “Plus, drinking and working don’t mesh well. You’ll end up doing things you wouldn’t normally do and then regret in the morning—you almost going topless is one example.”

In response, I merely gave an “hmm.” Far too inebriated to take a lecture.

Kash looked down at me with a smile I knew was genuine. “Let me help you get dressed and take you home. You look tired and mindless. Sleep is the only cure.”

To that, I agreed.

After getting dressed and gathering my things, I leaned on Kash’s shoulder as we steered through the club towards the exit. Tico popped in my line of vision.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“Yes, Tico. I can’t even stand straight. What do you expect? Am I restricted from leaving the club, too?”

“No, you’re not,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just that, you-know-who is once again demanding a dance with you.”

“Tico, the guy…makes me wary. I’m not going within a foot of him. The fact that he’s so insistent on getting a dance with me all week is creepy. Are you sure he’s not some kind of lifetime movie type predator? He’s always dressed in black. What if he’s one of those cult people who likes to kill for the rush of it?”

Tico flung his head back and laughed out. “No, Sadie. I know him very well and he’s nothing like that. He’s not a member of the club either. He just started showing up here since you began working here a few days ago. Clubs are not his sort of…thing. His presence here is because of
you
.”

“But,
why
? How does he even know me?”

Tico shrugged, but the expression he bore told me that he knew much more than he was letting off, and I was too lethargic to try deciphering anything at the moment.

“Tell him I said
no
, and that he should leave me the hell alone. He’s creeping me out.” I tugged on Kash’s arm prompting her to move with me. Tico gave a reluctant nod and stepped away.

I was rocked awake from my fugacious sleep as Kash pulled up outside my apartment. “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

“Just a little after midnight.” Shifting in her seat, she turned to face me. “You’re gonna stop, aren’t you?”

“You know me too well,” I mumbled. “There’s no point if Tico keeps restricting me from every damned thing.”

“Yeah, Tico’s behavior
is
a bit out of character when it comes on to you. My only thought is that he wants to set you up with that guy who watches you like a hawk.”

“Well that’s not gonna happen. He’s just too damn weird. I mean, he stares at me all night, yet if I smile at him, his face gets all serious and disapproving. But then he sends Tico to ask me for a dance. He’s just…ugh, whatever.”

Kash laughed.

But I didn’t, for the joke was lost on me. A sigh emitted instead. “I haven’t gotten a call back from any of those job applications. I’m not sure what the hell I’m gonna do now. Dancing on-stage had looked so easy.” I managed a short laugh. “Yet I couldn’t last more than four nights.”

Kash reached over and rested a warm palm on my cheek. “You are a strong, smart, fearless woman, Sadie. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Opening the car door, I clambered out, swaying. But in a minute Kash was there by my side placing her arm around my shoulders. “I got you.”

I knew Kash didn’t want me to stop working at the club, but to be honest, that was just
not
for me. At some point in my life, I was going to look back and ask myself, “What the hell was I thinking?”

Tucked away on the thirtieth floor of a skyscraping building,
Secre X
was a private and exclusive members-only gentlemen’s club, where only top-class business men—who were married and bored—were allowed. There were no more than about thirty members of the club and each member rented their own booth. Tico made loads from those men.

Making use of an inherited and honed talent, I at times design and sell costumes to dancers. Kash was a regular customer of mine, and I’d stopped by
Secre X
one night last week with a few pieces that Kash had ordered. She’d been on-stage when I arrived and I’d taken a seat by the bar and watched her while I waited. It was at that moment that I’d been like Eve who’d bitten into that deceivingly juicy apple, because the vast amount of money that Kash had made on-stage had been
very
temping. I’d easily convinced myself that that would’ve been an easy way to make some quick cash and pay off my debts. Such had been propelled by Kash’s encouragement. However, it didn’t take long for me to realize that one needed a carefree psyche or a completely inebriated mind to get through a few hours at such a job.

Kash halted with me on my doorstep. “Sadie, did you forget that the owner of Narcofax had said he was coming to see you tomorrow night? You know he’s entranced by you and always tips you big. Come by, if it’s only to see him. That’s a couple of hundred guaranteed.”

True, that gray-headed man did give large tips. “Okay. Maybe.”

Taking my bag, she searched around for my keys, retrieved them and opened the door. “And just remember, if you want anything at all, I’m here to your avail, okay?”

With a nod of acknowledgement, I stumbled across the threshold, closing the door behind me.

“Looks like someone’s had a busy night. You’re stoned.”

I glanced up to see Kelsy and Tevin cuddled up on the big black couch in my living room, staring at me with amusement.

“You two shit faces still here? Don’t you have a home?” I grumbled as I walked rather clumsily over to the black leather recliner in the corner and sprawled out in it.

“You left us watching
Gone with the Wind,
and it just ended. You know how long that damned movie is. We were just about to leave anyways,” Kelsy said, popping her gum. “You’re back early though, how was ya night?”

“Shitty.”

Kelsy Mitchell looked at me with her big green eyes, her long dark hair pigtailed with red hair ties and her bodacious frame swallowed up in one of Tevin’s oversized sweaters. She’s been my best friend, confidante and everything in between for five years. Polar opposites, though. She was from an affluent upbringing and I was from an impecunious, dysfunctional family. But Kelsy had always loved me for me and shared my tears and laughs with me—though laughs, for me, weren’t much. That, along with the fact that I could be used as an excuse to her parents so she could date my ride or die thug of a friend, Tevin.