my water and avoided saying more. By then your meal was mostly eaten. “If you’re finished, perhaps we’d better be going.”
“Subtle, Henri. Real subtle.”
In the car you asked me about our first stop, and I was relieved to be speaking about the present and not the past.
“We’ll be visiting one of my informants, the owner of an exotic dance club.” Your eyes lit up at that, and I followed it with, “where you will be waiting in the car.”
“Henri, come on. I’ve never been to a strip club before.”
“The establishment will be closed, so you can console yourself in knowing you won’t be missing anything.”
I ignored your irritated look as I turned my attention back to our mission. Ruby Slippers was an establishment where disagreeable characters congregated, chief among them was the man who owned it. His associates had dubbed him Mescaline Mike. He’d been a target of mine in the past, and rather than face certain punishment, Azrael had instructed me to turn him into an informant. It being just after noon, I wasn’t too concerned that you’d be molested. Even still, I didn’t want Mike or his people to lay eyes on you.
“Can’t I please come with you?” you asked with the full force of your pout.
“No.” You opened your mouth to protest and I swiftly interrupted. “This is not a negotiation. If these characters see that I have a young, attractive man with me, they’ll assume you’re my companion, which places you in grave danger should one of my adversaries wish to compromise me.”
Your eyes narrowed as though coming up with a retort. “Fine. But only because you said I was attractive.”
I suppressed a grin. “I may be a while. If you get bored or hot, take a drive around the block or find someplace to cool off with a drink.” I handed you my keys. “Promise me.”
“Promise,” you said like I was wounding your pride.
I exited the vehicle and made my way to the entrance of the building. The front door was propped open, so I let myself inside the darkened club and took a seat at the bar. Even though the club wouldn’t open to the public for several more hours, there was a bartender on duty to serve me.
“Just a water, please. Sealed.”
I surveyed the room to see if anything had changed since my last visit nearly two years ago. Not much. Mike didn’t seem to invest his profits in the upkeep of his establishment; he didn’t pay his employees very well either, according to the disgruntled workers I’d interviewed in the past. When I first met him, Mike had been supplying bodies to demons for the purposes of carnal pleasure, episodes which often turned murderous. He maintained it wasn’t his business anymore, but as far as smuggling went, Mike had contacts all over the city and knew the comings and goings of scores of unsavory beings.
After a few more minutes, a broad man with a ponytail and a vibrant floral shirt greeted me. If you could call it that.
“Mike isn’t expecting you.”
“He never is.”
“Would you mind coming back tomorrow? He’s in the middle of something.”
“I’m content to wait here until he’s available.”
“Might be awhile.”
I shrugged. Barring some emergency, I wasn’t going anywhere.
The man grunted and walked off. Mike was never pleased to see me. I was careful to use him sparingly, because the last thing either of us wanted was for him to earn a reputation as a snitch. Then he would be no good to me whatsoever.
The man returned twenty minutes later and informed me that Mike was ready to receive me. I followed him through a maze-like hallway, which grew more disorienting at every turn. I didn’t care for corridors or locked doors. Even for the immortal, there was always the risk of capture and subsequent torture.
We arrived at Mike’s office, a fluorescent-lit box with computers and adding machines and a few small desks where I presumed he and his associates counted their money. Additionally, there was an array of video screens mounted on one wall that displayed every room and angle of his property, including the back alleyway where you were presently sunbathing on the hood of my car with your shirt off and your pants peeled down far enough to reveal the white waistband of your underwear.
“That one yours?” Mike asked, noticing my gaze.
I grunted. I should have left you at the hotel.
“Young sweet thing. Must have paid a pretty penny for him.” Mike smoothed his salt-and-pepper mustache with