Page 108 of Trip Through Your Wires

“You told me she would be ready,” a man says angrily from inside.

“What do you expect?” Richardson replies, coming into view with a drink in hand.

What? I pull back. How did he get down here? Wasn’t he just upstairs?

“You wanted them young,” Richardson sets his drink down on the desk and sinks down in the chair. “Can’t expect to ride a horse without breaking it in, can you?”

“Fuck that.” The man comes over and stands in front of the desk, standing with his back to us. He’s tall and broad, with a barrel chest, and salt and pepper colored hair that’s combed over to the side. “I want my money back.”

“No Dice, Clegg,” Richardson laughs and kicks his feet up onto the desk. “You bought her, she’s yours.”

“Clegg?” I look up at Jake who looks down at me.

“What?” he mouths.

Where have I heard that name before?

“I got you into that fucking seat you’re in,” Richardson says haughtily as I turn my attention back to the keyhole. “Which means you will do as you’re told.”

“What do you want me to do with her?” The man presses both hands down the desk and leans in. “She can’t suck, or fuck. She’s no use.”

“Dump her in the swamp,” Richardson shrugs. “Or sell her to one of your Russki friends. I don’t give a shit. If you want another girl, it’s going to cost you.”

“Richardson,” the man growls.

“Listen, Senator,” he sits up. “I don’t give a shit what you do with her. If you want another girl, it’s going to cost you. Period.”

Senator…Clegg….Holy shit! That’s the guy who stepped into Ellery’s father’s seat after he died.

A moan from somewhere inside the room pricks my ears and I press my eye back against the doorknob, trying to find the source. In the corner of the room is a girl lying on a leather soft, bleached blonde hair, falling over her face.

“Fine,” Clegg says gruffly. “I want one of the others.”

“That’s more like it.” Richardson smiles. “Who do you want?”

“The cigar girl. Those legs and that ass….woo-wee,” he whistles.

“You’re a dirty ole bastard,” Richardson laughs.

“It takes one to know one.”

The two men laugh and Richardson leans back. “What are you willing to pay?”

“Name your price.”

“You sure you don’t want one of the others?” Richardson looks over to the sofa. “There’s more where that one came from.”

Something about the way he says it makes my stomach clench.

“Shit.” Jake pulls back from the door and reaches for my hand. “We have to go, now.”

This time I don’t refuse. What we’ve just heard is proof Richardson and this club are up to no good. “We have to help her.”

“We’ll call the cops once we’ve put enough distance between us and this place,” Jake says with confirmation. “Right now my concern is you.”

We reach the top of the stairs and leave the supply closet, bolting through the back door. “Where the fuck are we?” he asks when we burst out onto the back deck.

“It’s a club,” I confirm, as frogs and crickets call out from beyond. “It’s owned by Langston Richardson.”

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