Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
SUMMER
Evers wasn't as creeped out by the bar as I was, but I could tell he was uneasy that I was there. He kept his arm around my waist, guiding me through the dim, smoky room.
I was pretty sure it was illegal to smoke indoors in North Carolina, but no one at The Bar seemed to have gotten the memo. They didn't look too concerned that they were breaking the law, either.
Why did I have a feeling being law-abiding wasn't a big concern for this crowd? We squeezed into a spot at the bar, and Evers pulled out a bill, flashing it at the bartender before setting it down and covering it with his hand.
I didn't see the denomination, but the bartender must have, because he hustled over, his speed belying the suspicious, aggravated look he shot in our direction.
When he was close enough, Evers moved his hand back, and I caught a hundred on the corner of the bill. I doubted there were any drinks served in this place that would add up to a hundred bucks.
Abruptly, I realized Evers wasn't ordering a drink, he was ordering information. One hundred dollars was probably the starting price. Crap. My dad was a money pit even when he wasn't around.
Mentally, I adjusted my budget to reimburse Evers for what he was spending to find my dad. On top of the discount I'd have to offer Cynthia for my time off, my dad was digging into my reserves.
"You two lost? Downtown's up the hill and through the tunnel."
"We're looking for someone—"
"Don't know no one," the bartender shot back before Evers could finish, his small, dark eyes belligerent yet greedy as they tracked the corner of the bill beneath Evers' hand.
"You sure?" Evers asked, easily.
The bartender's eyes lingered on the bill, his longing clear, almost poignant before he straightened and looked away. "Don't know no one. You want to stay, order a drink."
Evers started to reach into his pocket, probably for more money. My expenses racking up in my head, I leaned forward and caught the bartender's eye.
His expression as he looked at me was only marginally softer than the one he'd given Evers. I set my hand on top of Evers', keeping the hundred dollar bill on the bar.
"Hey, we don't mean to bug you. I'm just looking for my dad. Smokey? We have some family stuff going on and he's not returning my calls. I'm worried and I need to find him. Can you at least tell us if you've seen him?"
The bartender studied me. After a long moment, he said, "You Smokey's girl?"
"The one and only," I confirmed. Following instinct, I held out my hand, gave him my best smile and said "Summer. Summer Winters. You know my dad?"
Reluctant and surprised, the bartender shook my hand, then shot a suspicious look at Evers. "If you're Smokey's girl, who's this guy?"
"He's my boyfriend. He didn't want me to go looking for dad by myself…"
I trailed off, and my instinct had been right. The bartender's suspicion didn't disappear, but it now included a nod of approval in Evers' direction.
He muttered, half to himself, "Good thinking." Looking at me, "Girl, you don't want to go wandering the places your dad gets to. You should go home and wait for him to call."
"I would," I agreed, "but when Smokey's having a good time, who knows how long it'll be before he checks in? You know how it is. I really need to talk to him now."
The bartender looked at the bill under Evers' hand again, the gears turning slowly in his head. "Smokey's got a tab. I'll tell you where you might find him if you pay it off."
I sighed. Of course, he had a tab, and of course, we were going to get stuck paying it. I started to step away from Evers to open my clutch for my credit card.
His arm tightened, holding me still, and he murmured, "Don't even think about it."
"How much?" he demanded of the bartender.
"Five hundred."
The number was bullshit. No bar tab was an even number, plus I doubted this place let its patrons run up a tab that big. How had my dad run up a five hundred dollar tab drinking cheap whiskey? I didn't want to know.
My dad wasn't against alcohol, per se. He liked to drink, and he loved his beer, but drugs had always been his chemical of choice. I could easily see him having a huge tab with his dealer, but not in a crappy bar like this.
"Cash."
Of course, he wanted cash. My new car fund was going to take a hit. This kind of thing was why I understood when my mom divorced my dad. She worked hard, was smart with money, and then he'd pull crap like this and end up frittering away everything she'd worked for.
Evers was more prepared for this whole scene than I was. He didn't even pull out his wallet, reaching into his pocket and producing a money clip from which he peeled off exactly four one-hundred dollar bills to go with the bill already on the bar.
The bartender made a grab for the money, fingers outstretched. Evers slid the cash out of reach.
"When was the last time you saw Smokey?"
"Couple of days. He came in with a friend. Warren."
I knew Warren. I couldn't remember his last name, but he and my dad had been friends for years. I hadn't seen him in a while, and I couldn't remember where he lived, but I could find out.
"That's it? Last time you saw him was a couple of days ago with his friend Warren?"
"That's it. Now give me my money."
"Last name for Warren?"
"Don't got no last name. Always pays cash. That's all I got for you."
"Do you know where else my dad hangs out?"
For the first time, the bartender shifted uncomfortably, eyeing my pink dress and pretty scarf. Almost hesitant, he said, "I do, girl, but let your man here take care of it. Your daddy, he don't pick the best company for a pretty thing like you."
"He's my dad," I said quietly.
The bartender shook his head in sympathy. Sharing a look with Evers that was almost commiserating, he said, "Smokey likes The King's Club. You're not going to want to bring her there."
I had no idea what The King's Club was, but Evers nodded in response. He was going to try to shut me out. I wasn't going to let him.
Evers wouldn't let anything happen to me, and being Smokey's daughter gave us an edge. I looked enough like him that the bartender had dropped his guard to talk to us. Without that, Evers would have had to fork over more cash before we even got to the offer of information.
Leaving me behind might suit Evers' protective impulses, but it would only drag out the search for my dad. We needed to find Smokey and get back to Atlanta. We didn't have time for Evers' caveman tendencies or for me to wimp out and hide in a plush hotel room.
The bartender made another grab for the money. Evers held it out of reach. He pulled a card from his pocket, slipped it between the bills and handed them to the bartender, who snatched the money from his fingers and shoved it in his pocket.
"You see him, you get any information about where he might be, there's more of that in it for you." Evers nodded in the direction of the bartender’s pocket, now stuffed with cash.
The bartender gripped the cash in his pocket, shrugged a shoulder. "Sure. I hear anything, I'll let you know."
He wouldn't, and we all knew it.
I climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV and waited while Evers pulled up an address on his phone.
The King's Club.
"You already had the name?" I asked.
Evers started the car and pulled out of the parking space. "It was on his card, but good to know he's been around in the last few days."
The SUV idled, blinker on, but Evers made no effort to turn onto the road. Catching my eye, he said, "Is there any way I can talk you into sitting this one out? There are a lot of places I'd like to bring you. The King's Club is not one of them."
Warning me away wasn't making me any less interested. "Evers, I don't really want to go all over town chasing down my dad in his regular hangouts. I want this over with, and so do you. Let's just do it."
"I could get a room in a hotel," he offered, "order dinner, we could relax, then I'll head out later."
He really didn't want me to go to The King's Club. That only made me more determined. I wouldn't be able to relax and enjoy dinner if I knew he'd leave me tucked into bed and go out searching for my dad.
"I'm coming with you."
"Fine. But I'm kicking your dad's ass when we find him."
"I'm not sure I'll try to stop you."
The King's Club wasn’t far from The Bar. We headed another mile away from downtown and turned down a road that ran along the river, dotted with small businesses and warehouses, all of them run down.
Evers slowed as we approached what looked like a purple double wide trailer with a spotlighted sign out front. The paint was chipped and faded, but the illustration of a crown and the words ‘The King's Club’ identified our destination.
The parking lot didn't have many cars. It was early on Saturday night, and whoever liked to hang out at The King’s Club, they weren't here yet. A few older compacts and a hatchback were parked in the back of the building, along with a jacked-up pickup with huge tires, and a red motorcycle.
Evers pulled into a spot and put the SUV in park. From this angle, I could see that the building wasn't a double wide but two or three boxy trailers connected, the purple paint doing a half decent job of camouflaging the seams. The whole place looked like it would fall down in a stiff wind.
"This is a bad idea," Evers said.
Probably. We were going in anyway. If Evers really thought it was dangerous there was no way we'd be here. He just didn't want me to see what was inside that rickety purple monstrosity.
Perversely, that only made me want to see it more.
"We're here now. Might as well go in and see if we can find my dad."
Not waiting for Evers to try to talk me out of it again, I grabbed my pink clutch and hopped out of the SUV.
He let out a heavy sigh as he joined me, holding out his arm. I took it, smiling up at him brightly.
"So, what is this place?"
Evers shook his head in resignation. "It's a strip club. And based on your father's usual haunts, not a good one."
"There are good ones?" I asked. I was no stranger to bars, but I preferred the wine and martini end of the spectrum. Strip clubs were not in my realm of experience.
Evers shot me an unexpectedly wicked grin. "Oh, yeah, there are good ones. We'll visit Axel in Vegas and I'll show you what a good strip club is like. Places like this are just—"
"Just what?"
"You'll see," was all he would say as he led me to the entrance.