Chapter 11
A short time later
“Just follow my lead,”Griff instructed as Patrick pulled the bullet-proofed Lincoln Town car into Sapphire’s parking lot. The club in far West Knoxville was visible from the highway. A surprising number of luxury style cars and a couple of Harleys filled the parking spaces. A blue neon sign overhead flashed Sapphire’s. A Gentleman’s Club, and by the front doors was a sandwich board with what looked to be today’s lunch menu printed on it.
“Don’t talk too much,” Griff warned. “Silas Clark, the manager, is a throwback when it comes to women. Wants them to look good but keep in the background and not say too much.”
“Sister Bernie would have hated that,” Elaine said. “How did you get Clark to agree to this meeting when you texted him?” Under her wig, her scalp itched like crazy, and her stiletto heels were starting to hurt her feet, but if it might help her find Chelsea, she’d do just about anything. “Isn’t he going to be suspicious about you contacting him out of the blue?”
“I told him I was in town and after sending a link to the Abernathy Entertainment website, told him I wanted to discuss a business deal with him,” Griff explained. “Considering what our net worth is, no way he’s going to break through it. I designed it so no one can. Our cover story is air-tight with tons of testimonials.”
“Anne said you have degrees from UT and MIT,” Elaine recalled. “In things like IT, Web Design and Mathematics.”
“Yep,” was Griff’s reply as Patrick stopped the car by the front door. “According to their website, Sapphire’s has just been sold to a new group of investors. No names yet-and you may be sure I’ll find them-but considering how much money they reported making last year, they don’t pay Silas Clark crap. We’re going to use that to our advantage.”
“And how do you know what they paid him?” Elaine asked,
“I hacked into Sapphire’s payroll,” Griff said. “And yes, it’s illegal, but since it’s part of an operation to find and rescue exploited girls and women, I’m not going to worry about it. And we’re going to offer Clark a bribe to see what he might tell us.”
“That’s why I’m carrying those packets of money, isn’t it?” Elaine held up the silver beaded clutch purse. “Marked bills?”
“Yep,” Griff said again. “Anything special about the parking lot, Patrick?”
“Cameras on the lights,” Patrick said. “They’ll claim it’s for safety, but maybe the use them for a little blackmail. Lots of girlfriends and wives would be really pissed if they knew their sweeties came here. Who knows what kind of business goes on here?
“Sounds very shady,” Elaine said, smoothing her wig again.
Their website shows the dancers and stripper only work at night,” Patrick reported. “But some of the women serving lunch today might be angling to move up.”
He exited the car and opened the door for Griff, who helped Elaine out. His hand in hers was smooth and strong, slowing her racing heart. Follow his lead. Just follow his lead.
They stepped into the club’s foyer where another sandwich style board sign welcomed them. In the main room, the lighting was subdued, the music soft and jazzy and most of the tables were full. Young women in very short shorts and off-the-shoulder peasant blouses carried trays with drinks or plates of food. A “no smoking” sign blinked behind the bar and off to one side was a runway style catwalk, the built-in lights turned off.
A pretty young woman in a black sheath, fishnet stockings and peek-a-boo heels, her blonde hair swept up in a French twist came forward. She gave them a wide smile, showing perfect teeth. “Welcome to Sapphire’s,” she greeted. “I’m Diedre. May I help you?”
“Mr. Abernathy to see Mr. Clark,” Griff said, producing a card. “This is my associate, Ms. Jones.”
Diedre took the card, squinted at it and then pointed at Patrick who had joined them. “Who’s this? Your muscle?”
“Do we need it?” Griff’s eyes held a hard gleam that should be making her uncomfortable.
It did, because she stepped back and tugged at one of her pendant earrings. “N-no sir,” she stuttered. Transferring her gaze to Patrick, she asked, “You ever say anything, honey?”
“I’m Ricky, Mr. Abernathy’s driver.” Patrick gave her a dazzling smile. “And we can get to know each other over a soda after you tell Mr. Clark he’s here.”
Her features relaxed and she practically melted at his feet. “I can do that.”
She scooted away and was back in seconds. “If you’ll come this way, Mr. Abernathy. As for you-” she pointed a finely manicured finger at Patrick. “I’ll be right back.”
Silas Clark’s office was opulent and overdecorated, the furniture covered in black leather. A chandelier, lights turned low, hung overhead and jade green carpet covered the floor. A musky, almost offensively masculine scent permeated the room and the room’s only occupant sat behind a large, mahogany desk with an oversize desk calendar and laptop. An old-fashioned telephone sat on the desk’s right corner.
Silas Clark’s bleached curly hair was cut short, and he had a sizable gut, but his clothing was as immaculately tailored as Griff’s. His only jewelry was a signet ring on the last finger of his right hand, and he peered at them through oversize seventies style eyeglasses.
He rose and Elaine was surprised to see how short he was. “You’re Abernathy,” he said.
“That’s right,” Griff said. “This is my associate, Ms. Jones.”
Elaine nodded and Clark openly stared at her, his gaze traveling up her legs to the V-neck of her dress in a slow, lascivious examination that made her skin crawl, and she tightened her grip on the clutch purse to keep from throwing it at him.
He finally waved at two club chairs in front of his desk. When they were seated, he said, “Your e-mail said you wanted to hire some exotic dancers from me?”
“I’m not sure if they’re yours, exactly,” Griff began. “But I like a man who can cut to the chase. I’ve heard that the Little Honeys, a group of exotic dancers, are going to be performing here next week, among other things. I want to hire them for a private party I’m holding for a group of men and want to offer them a night of fine entertainment and companionship.”
Clark frowned. “How’d you hear about The Honeys being here?”
“It’s my business to know,” Griff countered. “Abernathy’s has contacts in the adult entertainment industry throughout the country, but especially in the Southeast and Tennessee.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Clark admitted. “Looked at your website. You get around.”
“I go where the business is,” Griff said simply. “Abernathy Entertainment is thinking of expanding into Knoxville in the new year. How’d you get the Little Darlin’s? They’re very popular.”
“I know people too,” Clark sneered. “And I don’t think my employer would appreciate an outside party interfering with their business or me giving it away.”
Griff snapped his fingers and recognizing the cue, Elaine opened her purse and took out an envelope. He took it without looking at her and pulled out a wad of bills. “We can keep this between us,” he said, spreading the bills into a fan. “Two thousand dollars up front, two thousand when they arrive and I meet them, and a final four thousand at the end of the weekend. All for you.”
Behind his glasses, Clark’s eyes were huge. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Who the hell are these friends of yours?”
“Men with rare and expensive tastes,” Griff purred, slowly laying all twenty of the one hundred dollars bills one by one on Clark’s desk. “And are willing to pay for their tastes and-appetites.”
The last word and its implication hung in the air between them. Clark frowned but his gaze was fixed on the money. “I don’t know,” he said. “My boss–”
Griff snapped his fingers again, and Elaine took another envelope from her purse and passed it over for Griff to take another wad of cash and lay it out bill by bill above the other. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Clark,” he said, and Elaine admired the grudging note in his voice. “There’s another thousand for you. Do what you must to secure the girls for my friends.”
Clark swallowed, his Adam’s apple bulging against his throat. “Holy shit,” he said again. “All of this for me?”
“We need to see photos of the girls,” Elaine cut in, softly. “Mr. Abernathy’s friends like pretty girls, you know? Young, pretty girls. It’s not unfair to be sure of that. Mr. Abernathy doesn’t want to disappoint his friends.”
“Sure thing,” Clark agreed eagerly. He opened a desk drawer and took out a folder. “Lots of people wanna see hard copies instead of digitals,” he explained, handing Griff the file. “You put too much stuff out on the Internet, someone can hack your files, you know what I mean?”
“I hate hackers,” Griff growled, opening the file. There were several group photos of six very pretty, young women dressed as cheerleaders, cowgirls and in one, wearing the smallest bikinis Elaine had ever seen. There were also six color head shots, with the subjects boasting perfect hair and make-up carefully done, but underneath it, Elaine would bet they were all under eighteen.
But none of them were Chelsea. Elaine sneezed once, their pre-arranged signal if Chelsea weren’t in the photos.
“Only six?” Griff asked. “That’s a shame. I have seven friends coming. Perhaps another club could supply me-”
“Hold up,” Clark interrupted, taking a photo from the desk’s middle drawer and passing it over. “This dancer just joined the Honeys in St. Louis, which is why she isn’t in the group photo.”
The overlarge color photo showed a pouting woman dressed like a maid in a mask that covered the upper portion of her face, bent at the waist while clutching a feather duster in one hand and a very lethal looking whip in the other.
And like Elaine, in the left-hand corner of Chelsea’s mouth, was a tiny, old-fashioned beauty mark. Chelsea.We’ve found you. Elaine sneezed twice and rasped, “Sorry, but your office is cold.”
“Why the mask?” Griff asked and Elaine recognized the quiet anger in his voice. After only two days, she already knew how it sounded.
“Part of her act,” Clark explained. “Not much of a rack but look at that ass! Makes my hands itch just looking at her.”
The desk phone jangled, and he snatched it from the cradle. “I told you not to interrupt–” Then his face paled, and his Adam’s apple bounced again. “Of course,” he squeaked. “Right away.”
Griff’s phone trilled and after glancing at the screen, he stood. “Text me when the girls arrive,” he said coolly as Clark put the receiver back in place. “Nice doing business with you.”
He walked Elaine from the room far too fast for a woman wearing stilettos. “Trouble,” he murmured, pulling her aside as a red-faced Clark scurried past them.
“What?” she hissed. “What’s going on?”
“Big Daddy is in the building.”
They stepped back into the dining room and found the man who’d made Elaine’s life a living hell for the past five days. He was holding court at the room’s largest table, buying drinks for everyone and flirting with the servers. Outside, Patrick was waiting in the town car. As soon they were inside, he hit the gas, sending Elaine into Griff’s arms. She pulled herself away and met Patrick’s gaze in the mirror. “Ricky?” she asked.
“Childhood nickname,” he said. “Sounds friendly and I wanted to see what I could get Diedre to tell me.”
“Are we made?” Griff demanded as they turned onto the highway. “Is that why Big Daddy is here?”
“Don’t think so.” Patrick eased around a slow-moving truck. “Ms. Diedre said Big Daddy is one of Sapphire’s new owners.”
“Did she name any of the others?” Elaine eased off her shoes and rubbed her feet.
“No, but Diedre did say some of the new owners were investors who moved here from Chicago last spring and have just decided to do business with Big Daddy, hence them buying Sapphire’s. Or at least, according to Deidre, that’s what the strippers are saying.”
“Chicago? Holy crap.” Griff ripped off his fake moustache. “The Cadre.”