Page 5
“Sure. Until recently, they didn’t even have security at the door. But ever since the sleeping pill addicts started causing scenes, Reila hired two guards.”
“For heaven’s sake, who the hell is Reila?” Silvia asked with intolerance. “You always talk about her. And yes, you made that same face last time, too.”
“What face?”
I shook my head, interjecting. “You shouldn’t ask anything about Reila. She won’t stop talking about her.”
Prisne was about to open her mouth again, but I raised my hand. “Please.” I moved toward the door, ending the conversation. I’d never been to this bar before. That was why a flicker of excitement washed over me now.
The building was nothing but stairs. We climbed and descended in every direction. Crossing over one another, doubling back, branching left and right with no apparent logic. Whoever had designed this place had either been a genius or completely lost their mind. I blinked, half-amazed in spite of myself. There was no clear beginning, no obvious end. What a heaven. Stand still long enough, and the whole building could start to breathe. Prisne headed toward the stairs leading down, and we desperately followed her.
Finally, the sound of music grew louder. Two people were in the cute costumes at the front door. Too cute for such a gloomy place. There was even a daisy on their cute smiling heads. We showed them their cards, then Prisne pointed to Silvia. After the costumed figures shook their large heads, Silvia followed them hesitantly. We passed a few more floors in silence, the strong smell of tobacco hanging in the air.
“Here we are,” Prisne said in a voice that lacked energy. “Welcome to Crescent, ladies.”
Colored lights cut across the smoke-filled room, shifting from deep purples to icy blues. A heavy velvet curtain, patterned like a stage backdrop, hung behind a small platform framed by tall columns. A large man in sunglasses leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Next to him, there was a younger one busy with the bright, large screens and colorful keyboards. He nodded along to the music with his shiny headphones, pressing keys and twisting knobs. Whatever he was doing, he seemed completely absorbed in it.
“Cole, I’m here.”
The rhythm of the music shifted. As the man continued to shake his head with closed eyes, Prisne shouted impatiently. “Cole!”
The man opened his eyes, then looked around timidly.
“Oh, Prisne. Welcome.”
“We have an urgent matter. We need your assistance.”
“As always, you’re very kind. Hope you’re doing well too.”
“Oh, please. I’m in a hurry.”
“Okay, okay.”
A few seconds passed. Cole stared at Silvia and me with a judgmental, stern gaze, making both of us flinch. Then he leaned back toward the computer.
“Send the Redhead.” he finally spoke. “I don’t have any plans to die yet.”
What?
“What?” Prisne blurted, hands lifting in confusion. I only shrugged, equally puzzled.
Cole sighed. “It’s Loxton. Years ago, he put this girl on the blacklist. I’m not in the mood to get into trouble, and obviously not thirsty for blood. You won’t get a single word out of me, Prisne, unless you send her away.”
The music swelled. Light from the disco ball spilled over our faces, flickered, vanished, and spilled again. The words were so preposterous that I was certain I’d misheard.
Loxton…
My biggest regret.
Raymond Loxton.
As a reporter, my recollection was flawless. It had to be, it was how I made my living. But there were things I would’ve given anything to forget. Things I had begged whatever god might be listening to erase, moments I wished had never happened at all.
Like meeting a certain person. Like the enduring sting of a first love, which happened to be my only one.
“Mina, answer me! Any idea what that jerk is talking about?”
Prisne tried to reach me, but I was in no condition to answer. Years later, witnessing a connection between me and him in a bar I’d never normally visit was a bit… surprising. I’d been caught off guard, still too stunned to even close my open mouth.
