White Night (The Dresden Files #9) - Jim Butcher Page 0,90

will come up there and talk to her in person. There's only one relevant issue here: Would you rather be reasonable and polite, or would you rather replace a bunch of doors, walls, and goons?"

"Um. Well."

"Just go tell your boss, Bonnie. It's not your' fault that we didn't fall for the business-hours-only line. Let her decide what to do, so you don't get in any trouble."

After a slight pause, Bonnie realized the professional value in passing the buck. "Very well, sir. May I ask who this is?"

"I'm with Sergeant Karrin Murphy, Chicago PD," I said. "My name is Harry Dresden."

"Oh!" Bonnie said. "Oh, Mister Dresden, please excuse me! I didn't know it was you, sir."

I blinked at the intercom.

"You're the last of our Platinum Club members to pay a visit, sir. By all means, sir, please accept my apologies. I'll have someone meet you and your guest at the elevator with your membership packet. I'll notify Ms. Demeter at once."

The door buzzed, clicked, and opened.

Murphy gave me a steady look. "What's that all about?"

"Don't ask me," I told her. "I'm gay now."

We went in. The first floor of the building looked like a miniature shopping mall, its walls completely lined with small shops that sold computer parts, books, video games, candles, bath stuff, jewelry, and clothes in a number of styles. All the shops were closed, their steel curtains drawn down. A row of small lights on either side of a strip of red carpet came to life, illuminating the way to the main bank of elevators. One of the elevators stood open and waiting.

We got in and I hit the button for the second floor. It began moving at once. "If there is a welcoming committee from the Lollipop Guild waiting for us when these doors open, I'm leaving. This is surreal."

"I noticed that too," Murphy said.

"Ms. Demeter," I said. "Think it's a pseudonym?"

One corner of Murphy's mouth quirked up. "I think we'll find all kinds of nongenuine modifications around here."

The elevator stopped and the door opened.

Three women were waiting outside of it. They were all dressed in… well, "workout clothes" wasn't quite accurate. Their outfits looked something like the ones the waitresses at Hooters wear, only tight. None of them could have been much over drinking age, and all of them had clearly passed some kind of intense qualification process certifying them to wear outfits like that. They were pretty, too, a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead, and they had nice… smiles.

"Welcome, sir," the redhead said. "May I take your coat and… and stick?"

"That's the closest I've come to being propositioned in years." I sighed. "But no, I'll hang onto them for now."

"Very good, sir."

The blonde held a round silver tray with two fluted glasses of orangey liquid. She beamed at us. The reflection of light from her teeth could have left scars on my retinas. "Mimosa, sir, ma'am?"

Murphy stared at all three of them with a blank expression. Then, without a word, she took one of the drinks, tossed it off, and put the glass back on the tray with a dark mutter.

"None for me," I said. "I'm driving."

The blonde stepped back, and the brunette—whose shirt bore a stencil of the word Bonnie —came forward carrying a customized black leather gym bag that probably cost as much as Murphy's Kevlar vest. Bonnie handed me the bag, and then offered me a manila folder and a big mustard-colored envelope. "These are complimentary, of course, sir, for all of our platinum members. There are several outfits for exercise on the inside, a set of athletic shoes in your size, a PDA to help you track your progress, and some basic toiletries." She tapped the envelope. "Here is a copy of your membership papers, as well as your membership card and your security access code."

If this was a trap, it was working. I tried to juggle all of my gear and the comp items, too. If I suddenly had to walk anywhere while doing it, I'd probably trip and break my neck.

"Uh," I said. "Thank you, Bonnie."

"Of course, sir," she chirped. "If you would please come with me, I'll show you to Ms. Demeter's office."

"That would be lovely," I said. The bag had a strap on it. I managed to get it over one shoulder, then folded the paperwork and stuffed it into one of my coat's roomy pockets.

Bonnie waited for me to get settled before taking my arm in a perfectly confident and familiar fashion and guiding me