Page 57 of Preferential Treatment

“Right, but I’m asking you to tell me that she’s not one of your dancers.”

“Girl,” the woman said impatiently. “Listen to me: I cannot give out information on any of our dancers. Get it?” She spoke slowly, emphatically.

“I know, but—”

“Think about it. If a girl is working here, I can’t say anything about her. Understand?”

Comprehension dawned suddenly. “Oh, right. Right. Got it. Well, thanks for your time.”

“Sure.”

An hour later, Kate was in Pilsen, standing outside an old brick building that had probably been a shoe factory or something like that in the eighteen-hundreds. The heavy steel entry door was painted hot pink, with a stenciled black paw print in the middle. A bright pink and purple neon sign hung over the door, spelling out The Cat’s Meow.

A burly, bearded, bald-headed white dude with a walkie-talkie clipped to his heavy black Carhartt jacket stood at the door. Kate walked up to him, oddly comforted by his stern, hard-eyed stare. The last time Kate had had to show up at one of Angel’s clubs, the bouncer had been obviously strung out and had tried to hit on her. This guy looked more likely to scold her for even being here.

“Hey, can you—”

“ID,” he interrupted her.

“I’m not trying to get in. My sister works here, and I have something for her. Can you give this to Angel Pasternak?” Kate held out the envelope.

The bouncer eyed it skeptically.

“It’s just cash. Look.” Kate opened the envelope, showing him the twenties.

“I’m not going to the middleman for whatever you’re trying to buy.”

“I’m not buying anything,” Kate said impatiently. “I’m trying to give my sister her money back.”

“Look, honey, I’m not touching—”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” a familiar voice called across the parking lot.

Kate and the bouncer both turned to see Angel walking up to them, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. If it weren’t for her voice, Kate wouldn’t have recognized her right away. Her roots had been covered, her hair dyed raven black now. Her nails had been filled too. Her face was all made up, with dramatic eyeshadow and better lashes. She was still too thin, still had the wonky face tattoo, and as she closed in, Kate could see she still had little sores dotting her face—though they were well-concealed by her makeup.

“Angel,” Kate said uncomfortably. “Hey.”

Angel snorted a skeptical laugh. “Looking for work?”

“I came to give you this.” Kate held out the envelope.

Angel didn’t even look at it. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Mom told me.”

“That loud mouth bitch.”

“Can you just take this?” Kate asked, flapping the envelope at her.

Angel finally looked at it. She crossed her arms. “No.”

“Please take it. I don’t need it.”

“Too bad. It’s yours now.”

Kate tried to tuck it into her sister’s crossed arms, but Angel jumped back. “Fuck off!”

“Just take this back!” Kate shoved it at her.

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