Chapter 22
BIANCA
I spent the bulk of my Sunday resting. Harrison dropped a lot of information on me last night, and processing it and then giving my all in the performance last night burned up all of my energy.
We used to go to church every Sunday. Mom and Dad would dress us up—red for Rouge, white for me—and take us to St. Sylvia’s Catholic Parish in Wilmette.
We were never in Sunday school. Dad wanted us in the service, paying attention to what the priest had to say.
We were bored out of our minds, and we were usually too young to understand what the sermons were about.
We didn’t go because Mom and Dad were particularly faithful people.
At least, our father wasn’t. We went because it was expected of them, because it gave Dad something of a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card whenever people got suspicious of his business practices at Aces.
Surely a man who went to church every Sunday would never do anything dubious.
I’m not exactly sure what sort of shady business went on at Aces when he ran it, but it’s nothing compared to what Harrison thinks my sister is doing. Could she really be behind Maddox Hathaway and Alissa Maravilla’s disappearance?
Rouge didn’t continue going to church after she took over the club.
Instead, she garnered immunity by rubbing elbows with every elite in the Chicago metropolitan area.
The mayor, city council, local celebrities, and the heads of police stations and hospitals.
She’s so far up all their asses that no one would ever be able to pin any kind of crime on her without the most concrete evidence.
Even if they could, I’m sure she’s got damning shit on all of them.
I stopped going to church when Rouge did. It didn’t do a lot for me. I’m spiritual but not religious. I’m pretty sure there’s something up there—some element of divinity—that we as humans cannot truly comprehend, and that going to church is meaningful to a lot of people.
I wish it were for me. I could use some guidance right now.
Maybe I’ll start visiting some local churches after all this blows over. There are so many with so many different practices. Maybe I’ll find one that resonates with me.
But I sure as hell wasn’t going to start looking this morning.
I’m at Aces now, touching up my makeup in my dressing room. I got here an hour before opening. Doing my makeup gives me something to keep my mind busy. Because I’m excited about exploring my sister’s other clubs this week, but I’m also kind of terrified.
Terrified that my sister will find out what we’re up to, and even more terrified of what we might discover if she doesn’t.
My phone buzzes.
Speak of the handsome devil. It’s Harrison. Probably calling to confirm our plans for tomorrow.
My AirPods are in—I usually listen to music when I’m putting on my makeup—so I accept the call while leaving my phone on the counter. “Hey there, handsome. How’s your evening?”
“Not bad. Are you at the club?”
“I am. Got here a little early to do my makeup, maybe look around a bit.”
“Great. I was just thinking… Do you have access to Chet’s ledger?”
My heart falls a bit. He’s not calling about our date at all. But there are certain things that should take priority, so I steel myself before responding.
“His ledger?”
“Yeah. His list of all the people who have come to the club.”
“I know what a ledger is, Harrison.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to come off as condescending.”
I draw in a breath, sigh it out. “You didn’t. I didn’t mean for that to come out so icy.”
“No problem. Do you think you could get hold of it?”
I bite my lip. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Chet keeps his book on him at all times.
I think he secures it under his desk when he’s not in the foyer.
No one is allowed access to it except for him and Rouge.
It contains all the clientele’s personal information.
Addresses, phone numbers. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had social security numbers and credit card information, too. ”
“If he leaves it under his desk, then it can’t be that hard to access.”
I frown. “I suppose not. But you know as well as I do that it can’t possibly be that easy.”
“But what if it is?”
“Harrison, there’s no way.”
“Is Chet at his post right now?”
“No idea.” I check my watch. “The club doesn’t open for another forty-five minutes or so.”
“Can you go check?”
I sigh. “Fine. But I’m telling you, this is going to be a waste of time.”
I hold on to my cell phone, keeping my AirPods in my ears as I walk through the Green Door and up the stairs to the entrance to the Aces foyer. I knock three times.
No answer.
I knock again.
Still nothing.
“Is he there?” Harrison’s voice rings into my ears.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“How’d you get in if he isn’t there?”
“There’s more than one entrance to Aces Underground. Since I got here early, I took the other entrance, the one the cards usually take. They only use that entrance outside of business hours, so it’s not a big deal.”
“Okay…” A pause. “I hate to bother you about this, but can you take that entrance and go back up to street level and check the foyer? If Chet really isn’t there, his ledger might be unprotected.”
“All right. Stand by.”
I walk back down the mirrored staircase, back into the club, and into the ladies’ restroom.
The overwhelming pinks of the room nearly blind me, from the fuchsia chaise at the entrance to the hearts monogrammed on the tiles of the floor.
The walls are papered with a bright-pink pattern of the four card suits repeating.
Spades, Diamonds, Clubs, Hearts. One of the clubs in the wallpaper on the far side of the restroom juts out from the wall, just enough to be undetectable to anyone who doesn’t know it’s there.
I depress the club and it sinks into the wall, lighting up slightly.
The wall splits, revealing the Red Door.
I open it and reveal a staircase lined in shattered pieces of mirror that leads to the street level.
I quickly ascend and exit through two separate doors which open discreetly to an alleyway around the corner from the one where members normally enter.
I walk around the building and go inside the black door to the foyer.
“Are you there yet?” Harrison asks.
“Just walked inside.” I look around the foyer, from the couch lined in white rabbit fur to Chet’s pink desk in the corner. “Not a soul inside.”
“Good.”
“Is it?” I look over my shoulder. “Chet’s supposed to be here at his desk anytime the club doors are open. Most of the staff—the ones who don’t serve—come in through here starting about a half hour before opening. They won’t be able to get down without his keys.”
“Then he must have gone to the bathroom or something. You don’t have much time.”
“You’re probably right.” My heart races.
“Is his book there?”
“Looking now.” I cross the room and look under Chet’s desk and raise my eyebrows. “Holy crap. It’s actually here.”
“Excellent! Can you open it back to mid-February? See the last time Alissa and Maddox came to the club?”
“Sure. One sec.” I squat and pick up the book, using my leg muscles to lug it onto Chet’s tiny desk.
It’s heavy, but I manage to get it on there without making a lot of sound.
I open the book and flip to the weekend of Valentine’s Day, skimming the list for names.
“Looks like Maddox and Alissa came on both the fourteenth and the fifteenth. The fifteenth was the last day they were here.”
“Right.” A pause. “The email from Alissa saying she was going out of town came through the sixteenth, so I guess that adds up.”
Another pause.
“You still there?” I look around as my heart starts to pound in my ears. “I don’t know how much more time I have.”
“Yeah. Can you take a picture of the list of names that were there that evening? I’ll see if I can contact any of them, find out if they witnessed anything.”
“Sure thing.” I switch my phone from the call to the camera app and take a few pictures of the list. I quickly text them to Harrison. “Did those come through?”
“Yeah, just got them. Thanks a lot, babe.”
“Of course. Happy to help. And Harrison?”
“Yeah?”
My breath catches. “Are you okay? Is everything okay? Are you… Are you safe? You sound a little tense.”
He pauses again. Then, “Bianca, the only safety you should worry about tonight is your own. Get the hell out of the foyer before Chet comes back.”