Clint frowned and looked at Zerbrowski. It was like watching a small mountain turn. Zerbrowski was five foot seven, but he looked frail standing next to Clint. I must have looked minuscule.
“I don’t know what you mean, Zerbrowski.”
“Yeah, you do, or were you so drunk that you don’t remember what happened that night?” His voice wasn’t cheerful anymore, but low and serious. His face matched his voice, and you could suddenly see the cop who had spent over a decade backing down bad guys.
“I remember,” Clint said, sullenly. His body was relaxing, the rage fading.
Zerbrowski was almost whispering now, I doubt that anyone but the four of us could hear. “Did you tell your wife what you did?”
Clint took a step back, his hands relaxed a little. “You threatening to tell her?”
“No, and you’re not going to start a fight at my house either, are you?”
He shook his head. “No, not here.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, and was debating if I had a threat that might keep him from getting in Nathaniel’s face at the club, but Nathaniel had something better—the truth.
“Your wife got a lap dance, she didn’t try for more, but she had a friend that did. The other woman got pissed that I wouldn’t sleep with her, not even for the money she was offering. Just by the way she acted in the kitchen I’m betting that she started the rumor, and must have terrified your wife into thinking she’d cheated. I swear to you that all I did was my job, and that doesn’t include actual sex with anyone.”
Clint was studying Nathaniel as if he’d not really looked at him before except as a handsome man who had crossed the line with his wife. Now, he saw him as something more, though he wasn’t sure exactly what. They were such different kinds of men.
A thin, petite blonde woman crept up beside Clint. Her makeup was smeared with tears, and her gray eyes were wide and frightened. She started to reach out to touch Clint’s arm, then let her hand fall back before she’d finished the gesture.
She looked at Nathaniel. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”
“I swear to you: it was a hell of a lap dance, but it wasn’t that good a lap dance.”
She started to cry softly, and managed to say, “Why would Elise tell me that what I remembered had only been part of it? Why would she want me to think that we’d . . . That’d I’d been so drunk that I . . .” She put her hands over her face and just cried.
The elegant Elise from the kitchen had been the bride’s “friend.” She’d been creepy in the kitchen, apparently she was always creepy.
Clint put his arm around her thin shoulders, and he looked too massive for her, as if the weight of his hand should crush her. “Elise’s the one who told me that the stripper you’d f**ked was here. I’m sorry, Crystal, I shouldn’t have believed that evil bitch.”
Crystal snuggled against him, still crying.
“Why would she lie?” Clint asked to no one in particular.
“Look at it this way,” Nathaniel said. “I was living with Anita when I was hired for your bride’s party. If she found out I was doing customers she wouldn’t forgive that. I wouldn’t risk her being that angry at me, not for anyone.”
Clint looked at me, then at Nathaniel. “Blake does have a reputation. I guess you wouldn’t want her mad at you.”
“Good to know,” I said, “but why would Elise want Crystal to think she cheated on you? Why would she want to start a fight here?”
“Some women like to stir the shit, Anita,” Zerbrowski said. “Elise’s always been one of those.”
“Have you known her long?” I asked.
“Long enough to know that Nathaniel isn’t the first guy she’s propositioned, but he may be one of the few who turned her down.”
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“In that cold, wicked witch of the north sort of way,” he said.
“Yeah, she’s not my type either,” I said.
Crystal said, “She tortured me with the thought that I cheated on you. Why would she hate me like that?”
Clint went very still, and had a strange look on his face. Crystal couldn’t see it, probably just as well. I wondered if Clint was one of the men that Elise had propositioned. Somehow I wasn’t sure he’d turned her down, but it was so not my problem.