comply, I looked around at the other few customers in the café, making sure no one would overhear our conversation.
She shoved her phone back into her purse. “Aren’t you meant to be marrying the President’s son?”
“He’s not President yet.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Did they send you?”
“No. And they’ll never find out. Right?”
“I won’t tell them.” She blinked nervously. “Who were you with at Vanguard?”
“I wasn’t there,” I said boldly.
She nodded. “Me neither.”
“Right.”
And after all, we both knew I hadn’t handed her over to the men at Vanguard who would have done God knows what to punish her for being in Galante’s pocket.
Her eyes watered. “You think you can help me. You can’t.”
“What if I told you that all the evidence Galante has on you is accessible, which means it can be destroyed.”
“You don’t think people have tried that?”
“Maybe they tackled it from the wrong angle.”
Perspiration spotted Phoebe’s upper lip. “What are you going to do to me?”
“That’s up to you.” I rested back against the plastic seat.
She reached for her coffee and pulled off the lid, blowing on the drink to cool it.
“I can’t go back to Vanguard,” she said.
“You’re done there,” I agreed.
“I loved that place. I could just be me, you know?”
“I’m sorry.”
I understood her regret, since I’d probably never go back either. Even though I’d only visited Vanguard once, I already felt the pull of addiction caused by those mysterious rooms; the atmosphere of the place gave everyone permission to explore.
“What will I tell Galante?”
“Nothing.”
Her trepidation seemed to morph into hope. “What do I have to do?”
“How often do you meet him?”
“Usually every Friday.”
“Tonight?” I felt a surge of apprehension. We’d have to move fast, but as the story on my father was being released tomorrow, the timing was perfect. Could I really be the one to save him—and save a Presidential election?
As long as my plan didn’t go off the rails, that is.
“His wife arranges for him to get a massage,” she said, her voice low. “I’m one of the masseuses.”
“And you do more than that, I imagine?”
Phoebe’s lip curled in discomfort.
“Does his wife know?” I asked.
“She pretends she doesn’t. But she’s over having to suck his dick herself.”
“That could be your way out, Phoebe,” I told her. “We can use his manipulation. Maybe get him to admit to it.”
She shook her head. “We can’t prove it.”
“What else can you tell me about him?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Like I told you already, he’s rumored to keep records on some of the most powerful men and women in Washington. He uses that to bribe them.”
“How did Galante find you?”
“I was an exotic dancer. He waited for me to come out of Archibald’s.”
“Is that a gentleman’s club?”
“I stripped there sometimes. Anyway, he was waiting for me outside. I was told to get in the back of his car. I assumed he wanted a blowie.”
“Then he blackmailed you to work at Vanguard?”
“Yes.”
“How much does he pay you?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“You have to be transparent.” I reached for her hand to reassure her. “If we’re going to set you free from all of this.”
She let out a sigh. “It depends on what I bring him. What kind of gossip I overhear. The members talk at Vanguard. They assume we aren’t listening.”
There could be a record of payment between them, at least.
I was scared to think of what she may have already relayed back to Galante—and the damage it may have caused. She’d been blackmailed into taking part in his terrible scheming.
Phoebe’s lips trembled. “Can you still help me?”
“After all the evidence on you is destroyed,” I said, “I’ll give you enough money to set up a life anywhere you like.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
Reaching into my handbag, I pulled out an envelope and slid it toward her. “Ten thousand dollars.” I rested a fingertip on it. “Get me into Galante’s house tonight and I’ll give you a lot more.”
“You’re insane.”
“That’s all I’m asking of you.”
Phoebe went for the cash.
“Does he keep the dirt on everyone in a vault or a safe?”
“I think he did once. Someone tried to destroy it. He had a fire at his office about a year ago.”
“I need his home address, and a sketch of the layout. Everything you can remember.”
Phoebe looked at me with doubt.
“Have you seen how he accesses his computer?”
“I saw him on his iPad in the car.” Phoebe chewed her lip thoughtfully. “He just swiped the side of his wrist across the screen instead of typing in