42 Kimmy
The driver didn't even glance at me as I handed him two twenty-dollar bills and climbed out of the vehicle.
I stared at the taillights as he peeled off, then stood there a moment, breathing the cold, damp air through my nose. It'd been a weird week with rain coming and going, which was a rarity for Southern California this late in spring.
My hands were shaking so bad, I nearly dropped my phone.
You can do this, I recited the mantra in the privacy of my mind.
I had to.
For my family.
For Seven.
For anyone else used by Caius Valmont.
For myself, too.
A single light illuminated the rear entrance of Club Dionisius. There were no signs to suggest what kind of establishment it was. The door itself was simple and unremarkable, designed to maintain a low profile and avoid drawing any attention.
I stood in the shadow of a building across the alley, chewing my gum—which was part of my disguise—in slow, violent bites.
Seven said gum made you look casual, but I doubted any amount of Orbit could mask the acid in my stomach.
The fuzzy pink jacket he'd picked out for me was already too hot, but I kept it zipped to the neck so I could clutch the hem with my fists.
The dress underneath was clingy, my legs bare except for the black stilettos digging into my heels.
I felt like a cartoon prostitute, but that was the point.
I counted to ten, then walked up to the door.
There were two guards. Both could have been played by the same actor if this was a movie—brick-shouldered, buzz cut. Neither said a word as I approached. They just watched me, eyes moving from the top of my head to the tips of my shoes and back again.
I tried to channel my best Brynn—the way she could walk into any party, any room, and act like she'd already conquered it. I stopped, cocked my hip, let my gum pop, and met their gaze dead on.
"I'm here to see Cosmo," I said. My voice didn't even wobble.
"No new girls scheduled tonight," one said, eyes fixed on my face.
I shrugged, trying to look bored. "Mr. H sent me." Seven had drilled that phrase into me a dozen times. Never say more. Never say less. I had no idea who Mr. H was but he must have been real and had some influence.
Because the second security with a throat tattoo scratched his jaw, then radioed in a burst of static. "Got a walk-in. Says Mr. H sent her. Can you tell Cosmo?"
"Hang on," the voice on the other end rattled.
The guard nodded, then looked at me again. "Wait here."
I stood perfectly still, arms crossed. The gum was starting to lose its flavor.
My chest was tight. But I forced myself to look annoyed, chewing, and glancing at my phone every few seconds like I was bored out of my mind.
A minute ticked by. Then another.
The radio crackled. "Do you copy?"
Throat Tattoo fumbled with the device. "What's up?"
"Bring her in."
The guard opened the door and motioned me forward.
I walked in.
The hallway was narrow, walls painted black. My pulse skyrocketed. I tried to focus on Seven's instructions on how to behave. I also played out all the self-defense moves in my head that he'd taught me.
Throat Tattoo ran a metal detector over my arms and legs, then asked me to unzip my jacket and patted me down with quick, professional movements. He didn't linger. The hands were practiced, but my stomach churned anyway. When he reached my collarbone, he tapped the pendant with his knuckle.
"Real gold?" he asked, voice flat.
I offered him a sugary smile. "Yes. Gift from a client."
"You must be good."
"I do alright."
"No phones," he said and gestured for me to give mine up. I was expecting it, so I did as he said and handed him the iPhone in a bejeweled case. It wasn't my real phone anyway. It was just a dummy device. My real one was at the safe house and off.
We moved further into the building, passing another door.
The corridor widened a little. The walls were much prettier here with burgundy wallpaper. A couple of doors branched off, all closed. One of them rattled as we passed, then I heard a giggle.
Seven had said not to look at anything for too long. Don't ask questions. Don't react. I followed the instructions, but I catalogued everything in my head anyway.
The pendant was warm against my skin. I could feel my heart slamming in my chest, hard enough I was sure the camera would pick it up.
We reached a heavy door at the end. Throat Tattoo rapped on it twice, then opened it and gestured for me to step aside.
I did.
He shut the door behind me.
My heart dropped to my feet, but on the outside, I remained a poker-faced girl desperate for easy money.
The room was dimly lit with red walls and a massive wooden desk.
A man sat behind it. He was dressed in a flashy blue suit, a navy tie, and leather shoes.
His hair was thinning out, but styled perfectly.
I suspected he had money to spend on his appearance.
He just didn't know how to do it correctly.
"Hey," I said.
Cosmo looked up, eyes assessing. "Well, hello there, beautiful," he replied in a nasal voice.
"You Cosmo?" I asked as I chewed my gum.
"I am. Mr. H never mentioned anything."
"So what?" I shrugged. "He said you're cool and I'm here. Might as well do the audition or whatever it is you do here to get the gig."
Cosmo chuckled.
"You're ballsy. I'll give you that…eh… what's your name, sweetie?"
"Carla." I supplied him with the name Seven had instructed me to use. My pulse whooshed in my ears. I didn't know why I said what I said next, but I needed to eliminate any possibility of being caught. "Mr. H told me this is a cash-only establishment. So I didn't bring my ID."
Cosmo sat back, considered me. "You're a little old for this, aren't you?"
I forced a smile. "That's what they said about Marilyn."
"You know my girls here are all in their late teens and early twenties."
"I bet they don't have as much experience as I do."
Cosmo laughed. It was a loud, barking sound.
He got up and walked around the desk, flicking the switch on the wall. The room was suddenly filled with bright overhead light. He stood in front of me, then circled, slow, looking at the back of my head, the line of my jaw, my ankles.
"You say you have experience?"
"Plenty."
He stood in front of me again, hands behind his back. "Take off the jacket."
I did. Then dropped it on the couch.
He circled again, slower this time. It was a predator's walk. Every few seconds, he'd pause, studying some detail.
"Take off the dress," he ordered. His voice was different now, commanding.
Panic started to form in the pit of my stomach. The humiliation was total, but I expected this too.
I forced myself to reach for the zipper at my side.
I knew that any kind of hesitation would have him suspect me. Without saying a word, I peeled the dress away from my body. It pooled around my feet. I stepped out of it and spun in front of him. "How's that, Mr. Manager? Still a little old?"
I was left in the black strapless bra and the matching panties. I also knew I was in good shape. All that running paid off. And if he wasn't going to bite, then he'd be an idiot.
Cosmo said nothing. Just continued to inspect me for what seemed like forever, and I wondered if he'd ask me to get naked next. And even if he did, I probably would. I needed for this to be over. Whatever the cost.
Finally, Cosmo snapped his fingers. "Looks good. You can put it back on for now." He gestured at the dress.
I followed his command, trying to look sexy at that.
He stepped closer and looked me in the eye. "Tonight is a trial run. If clients like you, you get paid, and we'll keep you on. If not, you leave and you don't come back. Understand?"
I nodded. "Yes."
He smiled, all teeth. "Great."
He picked up a plastic shopping bag from the shelf behind the desk and tossed it to me. "Change into this. Down the hall, third door."
"Sure thing."
"Get out of here now."
I started for the door, but stopped and called him, "Hey, Mr. Manager?"
"What?"
"I want to take care of the VIPs."
He laughed again. "New girls gotta work their way up."
"I've done this for Mr. H and his friends for a while now." I offered a smile. "I'm not about to start from the bottom."
"You did, huh?"
This was the moment Cosmo needed to take the bait. Today was Thursday, and according to Seven, Valmont's favorite girl was gone. He'd be pissed when he found out. Giving him a brand new one was always the play in places like this.
"If you don't believe me, call Mr. H yourself," I said, knowing full well he'd never do that for security reasons.
"Alright, you're on," Cosmo replied.
"You won't be disappointed," I supplied and walked out of his office, feeling both triumphant and terrified.