Page 8 of Shadow Dance

It’s dark when Wolf pulls up behind me. He climbs out of his SUV, dark eyes meeting mine. “Hey, sorry I’m late. You ready?”

“I’m always ready.” I aim the key fob at my ride, locking it as we start down the sidewalk. “And you’re always late.”

“I know,” he says. “You know how Analisse gets.”

I do, but his relationship drama is a shit excuse. And a tired one. It also reinforces my choice to stay single; less drama means less distractions.

Quartz & Crystal looms just ahead. It’s one of Oakland’s most exclusive clubs in one of its oldest buildings, an iconic, Art Deco classic. It’s just past nine on a Tuesday, but there’s a small line of people waiting to get inside.

Wolf and I walk down the alley beside the club, toward the back of the building where there’s a small parking lot for employees and VIPs. It’s sparsely lit, hazy with cigarette smoke from a group of people hanging out by the doors.

A pair of bouncers flanks the door, tracking our approach. We stop a couple of steps away, and Wolf clears his throat. “We’re here for Cal.”

“He know you’re coming?” one of the bouncers asks, pulling a cellphone from his pocket.

“Yeah.” Wolf raises his arms slightly as bouncer number two pats him down. “He’s expecting us.”

“Can’t go inside with this,” the bouncer says, tapping Wolf’s concealed carry.

“Can’t go in without it either,” Wolf replies calmly.

“They’re good, Tim,” the first bouncer says, returning his phone to his pocket. “Go on in.”

He pushes the door open, letting us inside. We’re in the back of the club, in a corridor, servers and bottle girls bustling around as they head out with drinks and return with empties. I follow Wolf out onto the main floor of the club, my eyes adjusting to the deep, indigo blue lighting and ear-popping base. It’s busy, but not packed. I’m sure this is intentional; Quartz & Crystal prides itself on being discerning to the point of elite.

We head down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, we’re vetted by another pair of bouncers, who check our names against a list before opening the heavy, wooden doors. This is the belly of the club, the members-only lounge. It’s smaller, more intimate, lit in pink and throbbing with drum and bass. The only women down here are the ones serving drinks and sitting on laps in tiny, pink lace nighties. One girl’s kneeling on the floor, doing coke off a table while a man in a suit sits on the leather couch beside her, his hand moving beneath her nightie.

I scan the other seating areas in the room, wondering which man is Cal. The air is thick with the mingled scents of expensive cologne, hookah, and weed. A waitress saunters past, balancing a tray of crystalline glasses filled with amber liquid. She catches my gaze and winks, her glossy pink lips curving into a knowing smile.

“He looks a little busy.” Wolf elbows me, nodding to a velvet booth in the corner where some guy’s getting a blow job. “We’ll give him a minute.”

“You’re sure that’s him?” I ask.

“Positive. It’s been a couple years, but he looks the same.” He smirks. “Acts the same, too.”

We order two beers. I glance over back Cal, watching as he gathers the girl’s hair into a ponytail.What a gentleman.

“He thinks he’s Scarface,” Wolf murmurs.

I scoff, amused until I realize Wolf’s not joking. “Pretty big shoes to fill.”

“No shit.”

A couple of minutes later, a tall, rangy guy with bleached, buzzed hair strolls over. “Wolf.” He claps my friend’s shoulder, then turns to me. “Jaime, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mac,” he replies, touching his chest. “Come on.” He leads us over to the booth where Cal’s now sitting with two other guys. He watches as we approach, gesturing for us to sit.

“What up, Wolf?” he says, lifting his chin. “Been a minute. You still at Howie’s?”

“Nah, I opened up my own shop over in Emeryville,” says Wolf. “Couple years, now.”

“For real?” Cal nods, sipping his drink. “Maybe stop by next time I need a tune up.”

“Come through. We specialize in performance and luxury,” Wolf says. “Domestic, foreign, whatever.”

“Speaking of which.” Cal’s eyes flash to mine. He regards me for a moment before leaning back in his seat. “I been hearing about you, Jaime.”

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