Page 69 of Spades

I take a deep breath. Why am I so freaked right now?

Chet is just a weirdo. That’s what’s got me on edge.

I nod to Chet and walk down the stairs. The door creaks as Chet closes it behind me.

I open the emerald door that leads to the club, peering inside.

Fluorescent lights wash over me. They light up the club harshly, showing every scratch on the floor, every stain on the tables. I recognize some of the waitstaff walking around wearing simple T-shirts and athletic shorts, vacuuming and mopping the floors.

So this is what Chet meant about the sausage being made. Without the specialized lighting that bathes each of the club’s sections in its respective color, this place just looks like a weirdly furnished basement.

I sigh in relief. For a moment I was worried that my life might be in danger.

I amble over to the bar, where DeeDee—dressed also in a plain T-shirt and shorts—is stacking up glasses and organizing bottles. She raises her eyebrows and widens her eyes when she sees me approaching.

“Hi, DeeDee,” I say. “I forgot to close my tab last night. Chet let me down to take care of it. Sorry for the trouble.”

DeeDee looks at me for a moment, her eyes narrowed and focused, but she finally turns to the point-of-sale system and prints out a receipt for me, silently handing it to me along with a pen attached to a peacock feather.

“Thanks.” I smile at DeeDee. “I promise I’ll give you a good tip to make up for it.”

DeeDee blinks a few times and then turns back to stacking glasses.

I quickly sign the receipt and push it across the bar toward DeeDee. I slowly turn toward the door to exit when?—

Seven.

She’s here, dusting the large velvet curtains that separate the club proper from the private rooms.

I look around. All the other servers are occupied with their other jobs, and no one is looking my way. I quickly make a beeline to Seven, placing a hand on her shoulder as delicately as I can.

She gasps softly at my touch, but then her eyes soften when she looks at me.

“Dirty martini,” she whispers.

I smile. “Yes, that was my order last night.” I draw back the curtain and point inside the private area. “Can we talk real quick?”

She looks around, her eyes wide, but then she nods.

I walk inside the private area. It’s furnished with a plush red couch, loveseat, and a glass-topped coffee table. Candles—extinguished at the moment—line the space, leading to a king-size bed with a duvet in a rich red and throw pillows that look like white and pink roses.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the sticky note. “Did you mean to give this to me last night?”

Seven presses her lips together, looking uneasily around the room. She then nods timidly.

“Do you need help?”

Seven swallows and points at herself. “Name…May.”

“That’s a pretty name.” I point at myself. “Alissa.”

“Alissa… Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

She cocks her head. Her English must be very limited.

“Nice to meetyou,May.” I point to the note. “Why did you”—I point to her—“give this to me?”

---