Page 68 of Embrace the Darkness
He scoffed. “Just because I didn’t tell Jameson how much you had to drink at Anarchy doesn’t—”
“Then explain why you did it?”
He looked away to stare out his window. “Do you want something from this coffee shop? A drink or a cookie?”
Is he deflecting?I wondered as I eyed him. Regardless, he'd surprised me yet again by the kind offer.“A cookie.”
He nodded and climbed out of the car. “Do notgo anywhere,” he ordered just before shutting the car door.
Hours passed by at an agonizingly slow rate. Temptation to give up was poking at me like a woodpecker, but I imagined shooting that annoying bird. Dean, on the other hand, was completely relaxed, not bothered in the slightest by being cramped in my small car. Fidgeting in my seat for the thousandth time, I caught the corner of his mouth lifting. The jerk was laughing at my discomfort and probably assumed I was getting ready to cave soon. Unbeknownst to him, I was too stubborn to quit.
Both Stefan and Jamie had texted, checking on me. I hadn't been entirely forthcoming as to what I was doing today. Stefan had said he trusted me to handle this. I wasn’t convinced. My gut had told me he would still meddle. So I'd lied by omission and said I was out doing a little shopping.
“Isn’t that your guy?” Dean asked, nodding in McLoughlin’s direction as I paused in the middle of rubbing my stiff neck. Forgetting about the binoculars in my hand, I squinted in that direction. Sure enough, there was Mark Ferguson crossing the damn street toward his gold '67 El Camino.
I made quick work of starting my car, shifted it out of park, and pulled out into traffic the same time Mark did. We followed him through the city.
“He’s getting on the interstate,” Dean said, eyes glued to the El Camino three cars ahead of us.
Mark took the ramp heading south on I-95. We passed exit after exit and as we got closer to the Housatonic River, a knot started to form in the pit of my stomach.
“He’s heading into De Luca territory,” Dean voiced what I had already concluded.
Quinn territory took up most of the New England area. We had family and businesses spread out across the states from New Haven to the top of Main. Within our territory, there were gangs like the Aryans and other smaller crime families like the Bratva who coexisted alongside us but still paid homage to Stefan. The Italians ruled over New York, New Jersey, and a small corner of Connecticut. The Housatonic River was the line drawn inthe earth that separated our two territories and we were about to cross it.
Mark’s destination was a strip club called Show 'n Tail in Bridgeport, southwest of the river.What the hell is he doing here?I pulled into a spot on the opposite end of the lot from where Mark had parked. Both Dean and I watched as he went through the front entrance.
“It’s kind of early for a lap dance, isn’t it?” I mumbled.
Dean snorted. “What time of day do you think is acceptable for a lap dance?” His caustic tone made it clear he was making fun of me, butseriously? It was one in the afternoon. Wasn’t that a little creepy or was I just being a judgmental prude?Whatever. My point was, I didn’t think he’d drive into another city just for a lap dance.
I chewed on my lip, debating what to do. Movement toward the back of the club caught my attention. Standing by the back door was a couple of girls in robes. They were standing with a bouncer, talking while they smoked. An idea popped into my head and before I lost my nerve, I unbuckled my seatbelt.
“What are you doing?”
I glanced at Dean as I reached for the door handle. “If I’m not back in twenty minutes, call Jamie or Louie.” I had the door open and a leg out when he grabbed ahold of my wrist.
“You’re not going in there,” he said firmly.
“I have to find out why he’s here. If—and that’s a bigif—anything happens, it’s better if you stay out here and call for help.” I shoved his hand off. He let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s going to be fine,” I said before closing the door.
I approached the girls and the bouncer with a small smile on my face. “Hi.” The three of them stopped talking and eyed me curiously. “Today’s my first day…” The bouncer didn’t even hesitate in opening the door and held it open for me to enter. It must have been the wig.
Stepping inside, I was immediately greeted by loud music and a dressing room with a huge mirror taking up the left wall and lockers taking up the right. I had romanticized what a stripper's dressing room looked like in my head. I'd imagined vanities full of makeup, with lightbulb framed mirrors and racks full of skimpy costumes. This room was barren, and I found myself a little disappointed. I got over it quickly when I spotted a door at the other end of the room. I beelined for it and pushed it open slightly. “The Beautiful People” by Marilyn Manson filled my ears as I peeked out into the dark club. The showroom had dark mood lighting, multiple platforms with poles, a bar surrounded by stools, and lounge chairs and tables strategically placed to view each one of the stages the dancers performed on. I’d only been inside of a strip clubonce, and that had been years ago with Tina. It had been her birthday. Her friends and I had paid for her to get a lap dance. It had been fun.
Scanning the room for Mark, I spotted him sitting at the bar.How do I get close without being noticed?Eyeing one of the cocktail waitresses walking the room with a tray in hand, I took in what she was wearing. Black bra, matching boy short underwear, and heels. I was wearing something similar to that. Shutting the door and opening up an unoccupied locker, I quickly stripped down to my underwear and heels. I shoved my shirt and pants into the locker before heading into the showroom of the club.
On my way to the bar, I scooped up a discarded tray sitting on an empty table. Passing Mark, I strutted like I actually worked there to the drink drop off station at the far end of the bar. There, I had an unobstructed view of him. He was alone. The drink in front of him was clearly just for show as it sat there untouched.
“You must be new,” the woman behind the bar asked, placing a couple of bottled beers in front of me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Can you take these to table four?”
I glanced down at the beers then back up at her. “Table four?”
She pointed at a table in the center of the room where a group of guys were laughing while watching a dancer swing around topless on a pole in front of them. I hurriedly placed the bottles on my tray and went to drop them off. As I passed out the drinks to the guys, one of them put a dollar in the side of my underwear and asked when I performed. I forced myself to smile at his drunk ass and walked away.