Page 70 of Spades

May bites her lip, looking back at the curtains that separate us. She leans in and whispers in my ear.

“Friend…at club. Svetlana. Ukraine.”

I point outside. “One of the servers here?”

She nods. “Not anymore. Five years…and gone.” She snaps her fingers. “But… No news. No phone. No nothing.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “So you had a friend who used to work here. And she worked for five years?”

She nods. “Term of service. To Rouge.”

“And she finished up her time here, and…”

May spreads her fingers in an explosive gesture. “Gone.”

“And you haven’t heard from her?”

“We friends. Svetlana and I… Plans to see city… Day off.” Her eyes widen. “No news. No phone.”

“So she’s disappeared?” I mimic the same gesture Alissa made. “Gone?”

“Gone.” Her eyes widen. “Scary.”

“I’d think so.” I point at first myself and then the sticky note. “But why did you askmefor help?”

May smiles at me. “New member. Old members… They don’t care. New servers often.”

“But what can I?—”

“Seven! What are you doing back here?”

A chill runs down my spine at a haughty female voice behind me. I turn around and see a woman dressed in what I can only describe as a modern take on Elizabethan royal attire.

She’s in a gown featuring a sleek, body-hugging bodice of crimson satin adorned with intricate ruby-beaded embroidery surrounded by a poofy skirt with layers of structured tulle and organza, cascading in bold, asymmetrical tiers. Around her neck she wears a high ruffled collar that fans out like a fiery halo, crafted from sheer cherry fabric. Her sleeves are fitted to the elbows with lace and flare out into billowing cuffs. Her hair is a shocking shade of red coiled and braided into an intricate updo, and her makeup is bold and theatrical, with winged eyeliner, shimmering red eyeshadow, and deep rosy lips.

But as dazzling as her ensemble is, it pales in comparison to the red jewels—I assume they’re rubies—that she wears from head to toe, from a studded crown resting atop her hair, to delicate chandelier earrings, to a statement choker necklace. Her fingers are adorned with ruby rings of various sizes, and even her corset features ruby embellishments carved into the shapes of the four card suits. The private area is not well lit, but every single ray of light bounces off this woman’s jewelry. She’s like a walking disco ball.

I squint against her dazzling display and take a step back.

She opens her mouth again, glaring at May. “Seven, I asked you a question.”

May bows her head to the woman, and I realize who this must be. This is Rouge Montrose, the woman who owns the club.

Rouge whips her gaze back to me. “Did she talk to you?”

I swallow. They’re not allowed to talk, and I don’t want May to get into trouble.

I shake my head. “No. I’m so sorry.” I extend my hand. “I’m Alissa Maravilla. I was here in the club last night as a guest of Maddox Hathaway. I left my credit card here by mistake and wanted to close out my tab, so Chet let me come down.”

Rouge widens her eyes. “He did?”

I blink several times. “Yes. And I guess my curiosity got the better of me, because I sneaked back just to get a look at the private room.” I paste a smile on. “I’m sorry. I just love what you’ve done with the décor here, and I wanted to see how you had furnished this area as well. It’s gorgeous.”

Rouge smiles at me, but her eyes remain wide open. “Thank you, pet.” She looks over at May. “You may leave us. I’ll have a word with you later.”

I raise a hand. “She didn’t do anything wrong. Ma— I mean, Seven—she came back here to tell me I shouldn’t be snooping.”

Shit. I almost let slip that she told me her real name. Did Rouge notice?

---