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Horus doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes off from the parking spot with a squeal of rubber on cement.
“So you texted her?” I ask, turning to Evie.
Evie is distracted by the car, her fingers feeling the leather of the seats like she’s never been in one this nice before. “Huh?” she asks, looking up quickly when she realizes I’m staring at her expectantly.
“You texted?” I prompt again.
“I texted,” she confirms, her fingers still feeling the leather. “And what I texted was what we were prepared to offer.”
“And then?”
“Well, then she sent me this address and said if we got here within a half hour she’d know we were serious.”
I roll my eyes and look grouchily out the window. I’m not used to being rushed, especially by twenty-one-year-old DJs with rainbow hair.
“I hope she doesn’t expect me to grovel,” I say.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Evie says. “I can do all the talking and you can stand behind me and brood.”
“I don’t brood,” I say.
“That’s what you said when we first met,” Evie reminds me. “And as someone who works outside your office, I can now say with authority that if brooding were an Olympic sport, you’d win gold.”
“Well maybe if you’d stop causing me so much trouble I wouldn’t have so much to brood about,” I say.
“I’m causing you trouble?” she says. “I’ve never fled for my life before last night, and I think we know whose fault that was.”
I can’t stifle my grin as I remember punching that douchebag in the face. The running wasn’t really my style, but it had been exhilarating.
“Let’s just both promise no trouble today,” I say. “You’re sure there’s no viable backup to Kara Kon?”
Evie shakes her head solemnly. “I mean, sure there are others. People like L’l Liz and Hornburger and Otto the Wolf.”
“These are musicians?” I ask. None of the names sound even remotely familiar.
“Yes, Grandpa,” Evie says with a slight eye roll. “But none of them would make this a full-on event like she would. Like it or not, she’s the hot new thing and she’s taking full advantage of it.”
“Well hopefully she’s not stupid enough to turn down this amount of cash,” I say.
“We’ll see,” Evie replies.
Horus makes short work of the drive, and we screech to a halt in front of the address. I stare out the window, trying to make out what kind of building it is. To be honest, the area we’re in isn’t the greatest.
Evie and I get out. My eyes scan the storefronts, drifting from a smoke shop, a liquor store, a pawn shop, and then another smoke shop before realizing I missed it. The address is sandwiched between the liquor store and the first smoke shop. There are no windows, only a narrow metal door and a sign that reads “Bogart’s”.
“What is it?” Evie asks doubtfully.
“I think the polite term,” I say, already bracing myself, “is ‘gentleman’s club’.”
Evie flushes at the words, looking up at me with her mouth half open in surprise. I meet her eye and then we both look away, embarrassed. God, this is not the environment that is going to keep things friendly and professional between Evie and me. And what the hell kind of person is this Kara Kon girl anyway? Who’s at a strip club at noon on a Saturday?
“For the Seafarer,” Evie says resolutely. She throws back her shoulders, puts on her game face, and strides toward the door like nothing in the world could hold her back. I follow much more reluctantly.
The door opens and I wince as that familiar strip club smell smacks me in the face. It’s the smell of alcohol and body spray and cigars that just barely overpowers the scent of sweat. I hate strip clubs, partly because they’re not my scene and mostly because my dad loved them. He used to drag me along all the time when I was young, probably concerned that I didn’t have the same interest in women that I had in my grades. His buddy owned his favorite joint and so people looked the other way at a thirteen-year-old kid, trying not to make eye contact with the stripper giving his father a lap dance. The smell of these places still makes me a little sick to my stomach.
The bouncer looks suspiciously at Evie and me. We look like we should be getting a business lunch at the Waldorf and not schlepping into this seedy club.
“Kara Kon?” Evie demands of the bouncer.
