The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,67
role is not investigatory—I am there as your personal protection as per the original contract extension, not as an official representative of Phoenix.”
“Okay.”
“And whatever we learn remains confidential until the proper paperwork has been processed. Is that clear?”
“As a bell.” I extended my hand. He shook it solemnly.
“I’ll pick you up at the shop,” he said. “Stay in the suit.”
***
At Boomers, the first of the after-work crowd had reported for action—ties loosened, inhibitions too, oiled by the two-for-one drink specials. Boomers was kind enough to keep its website up-to-date with the dancers’ performance schedules, and I’d noticed that Nikki was due to go on stage in an hour. Only she was using her professional name—Sinnamon.
Trey flashed his ID, and the bouncer called back to see if she’d see us. We then had to go through the strip club den mother, who seemed even less enthusiastic than the bouncer. But in the end, Nikki said we could come on back.
We found her in a crowded dressing room putting on her stage make-up. She sported a platinum wig, plus fishnet hose, five-inch heels, and a tiny white blouse and seersucker skirt.
“You got something to tell me?” she said.
Trey stood politely at my side, hands folded. All around us, half-naked women pulled on thongs and shimmied into breakaway tops. He didn’t even glance their way.
“I was hoping you had something to tell me,” I replied.
“Like what?”
“Like how you and Eliza were lovers.”
She reached for a bottle of water and unscrewed the cap, her expression unchanging. Trey studied her, his eyes focused on her mouth. She didn’t acknowledge his attention.
“None of your damn business,” she said.
She turned her back on us and went back to applying her make-up. The dressing room was a buzzy cacophony of female sounds and thumping bass from the stage. I met her eyes in the mirror.
“You were at the party with her, the Mardi Gras Ball.”
Another shrug. “So? I told you we went to those things.”
“You didn’t mention this specific one, which makes me curious, especially since Dylan was there too, taking pictures of you and Eliza and the Beaumonts. What were they up to?”
“I told you, I don’t know. We got into a fight, and she left with him.”
“What was the fight about?”
“She kept dragging me around the room, following the Beaumonts around. She said she wanted pictures with them and wanted me in them, too. I told her that was stupid, she told me I was stupid, and I told her if she liked those people so much, she could get them to take her home.”
Nikki stroked mascara on in thick swipes. Her eyes grew darker and more recessed the more she talked.
“Why didn’t you tell anybody about the two of you?”
“What the fuck good would that have done? It wasn’t like they were ever gonna make her one of them. She was redneck white trash. That’s all she was and all she was ever gonna be.”
“Was that why she was so infatuated with Charley, because she used to be white trash too? Did she think that would make her sympathetic?”
“Give me a break. Neither of them had nothing to do with her. She thought they shit gold, though. Everything she wanted to be.”
She stood up then. She was an Amazon. Impenetrable.
“You think Eliza would be dead if she was some rich woman like Charley Beaumont? She was broke, and she was a nobody, and the only thing she had going for her was that she was white, and I ain’t got that. And you wonder why I ain’t told anybody about me and her?”
She pushed past me to leave. Trey had been standing there silent the whole time. She looked up at him. “You got any questions, Mr. Suit and Tie?”
Trey cocked his head. “Did Eliza’s sister know about your relationship?”
Nikki cocked her head back. “Yeah.”
“How did she feel about that?”
“That tight-assed bitch?” Nikki made a noise of disgust. “She told me I was gonna burn in hell, and Eliza with me. That’s what she thought about that.”
***
The ride back to Kennesaw was rather subdued. Trey didn’t speak and neither did I. I just watched the city roll by, the procession of organic food shops and cigar emporiums and adult movie stores. And always the road work, the perpetual bustle, the endless growing pains of a city forever too big for its britches.
I gathered my things. “So this turned out to be a successful trip, right?”
“My role was to keep you safe. I accomplished that.”