She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,160

on the table, and stepped back out into the oven that was the Nevada night.

Fogel spotted the purple neon glow on the horizon long before she saw the squat building set back from I-118 about three miles outside Fallon. She had passed a rundown motel about a mile back, but other than that, there was nothing else out here. She supposed even in a town like Fallon, it was best to keep these kind of places outside the city limits. With a naval base this close, there would be these kind of places.

A large purple neon sign signaled the turn from the highway for Mike’s Gentlemen’s Club, but the marker wasn’t necessary. She simply followed the line of cars. Once in the parking lot, employees dressed in tuxedos tried to wave her into the valet line, but she opted to circle around them toward the back of the building. If she needed to leave in a hurry, she wanted to have the car keys handy and the vehicle someplace accessible.

She changed into jeans and a white tank top in the back seat of the car, then followed the line of men in naval uniforms around to the front of the building. Air conditioners must have been working overtime, because the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees the second she stepped through the double doors. She considered going back out to the car to change into something with sleeves, then changed her mind—she didn’t plan to stay long.

Signs stated a twenty-dollar cover charge, but apparently that was only for men—she was handed ten free drink vouchers and ushered inside at no cost, where it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way” belted from unseen speakers and laser lights cut through the dark, sliding over multiple stages and dozens of tables scattered throughout the space—a space which was much larger on the inside than it appeared from the parking lot. On each of the stages, many of the tables, and strolling randomly about were beautiful women in various stages of undress. Some were completely nude while others wore skimpy bathing suits or lingerie. There were a couple female patrons, but not many, and Fogel felt incredibly out of place.

Men packed every square inch of open space. About two-thirds wore military uniforms. Others were in casual dress. Several wore three-piece suits, and Fogel assumed they were security. She went to the bar and ordered a vodka and cranberry. The bartender handed her the drink, waving off the voucher when she tried to hand it to him. She dropped them into her purse and scanned the crowd. While some tables and chairs surrounded the stages, most were tucked into small alcoves and hidden behind walls that served no purpose other than to create privacy. As Fogel scanned the ceiling, she realized that privacy was only an illusion—there were cameras everywhere, each equipped with infrared sensors in order to see in the dark. Somewhere, somebody was watching everything.

A deejay announced Heaven was to report to the main stage, while Tori and a few of her friends could be found in the champagne lounge. Aerosmith made way for Guns N’ Roses and “Sweet Child O’ Mine.” Three guys did a round of shots to her left, shouting over the music.

Drink in hand, Fogel began pushing her way through the crowd. Some of the women smiled at her, others sized her up—glancing up and down her body as blatantly as some of the men. Never in her life had she wanted a shower as much as she did at that moment.

She found Jack Thatch at a table in the far back corner, tucked behind a wall of fake plants on one side and a hallway on the other appearing to lead toward the women’s dressing rooms. She nearly didn’t recognize him—his hair was askew and he hadn’t shaved in days, maybe as long as a week. It had been years since she last saw him, and those years had been harsh. Although he had a clear line of sight to one of the stages, he wasn’t watching the thin blonde girl wrapped around the brass pole. His gaze was fixed on the shot glass cradled between his fingers.

Fogel crossed the room and set her drink down on his table. “Mind if I sit?”

He didn’t look up at first and she nearly repeated herself, assuming he hadn’t heard her over the music. When he did look up, his eyes didn’t register the surprise