Page 135 of A Breath of Life
The third hallway was also a mystery to Joshua. If the floor plan was correct, the bathrooms were a stone’s throw from a rear exit, which was where I needed to be once I’d set up Costa’s first distraction. Finding the stairs to the lower level would come next.
We completed a circuit of the room, and although I took mental notes, I couldn’t verbally relay any of it to Costa. We were not equipped with cameras, and assessing details and making decisions that benefited the plan was solely up to me.
Meanwhile, I played the role of Joshua’s date, ensuring I hung off his arm and endured his constant touches and random affections while trying not to think about Diem’s deeply rooted jealousy and the hollow ache in my belly at his absence. I wanted nothing more than to fling myself into Diem’s strong, comforting arms and never leave. I would pepper him with kisses until he bitched and moaned, but he wouldn’t stop me because, secretly, he loved it.
I guided us toward a corner as far opposite the bathroom hallway as possible. In Joshua’s initial rundown of the club, he’d mentioned how the main casino room was full of sculptures and prominent art meant to reflect the post-WWI period Ace adored so much. Although he couldn’t describe the pieces specifically, it was reasonable to assume certain figures would be highly breakable.
During our initial circuit, a vast collection of bronze and marble statues stood out, and I worried we had made a grave error. Then, I saw it—them. An abstract trio of blown glass. The art seemed to represent unsexed people with entwined limbs, deep in the throes of an erotic dance. On closer inspection, I noticed a gold plaque that read,The Lovers.
Joshua, understanding my intent, sulked. “Damn. I’ve always loved those guys.”
“It’s kind of hot. Are they fucking?”
“It’s a matter of interpretation.”
“They’re definitely fucking.”
“I agree.” We stared at them for a long time. “Ever had a threesome?” Joshua asked.
“No.”
Joshua hummed as he glanced longingly at the blown glass sculpture. His mind seemed far away. In another time and another place, I might have enquired about his experience because it was clear he’d done that sort of tango many times.
“I’m sorry, Joshy Woshy, butThe Loversmust be sacrificed.”
“A shame.”
I lazily stuffed my hand in a pocket as I surveyed the room. Casually, I wrapped my fingers around the device and tucked the thin coil of wire into my palm. Costa had explained its function, but the mechanics worried me less than its reliability. If it didn’t work as intended, I wouldn’t know what to do, and I wasn’t leaving without Diem.
The shadowed room worked in our favor. Joshua and I stood close as though examining the sensual piece of art. In a display of tying my shoe, I surreptitiously adhered the device to one of the lover’s legs, wrapping the thin coil of wire neatly around it once to ensure it remained touching at all times as per Costa’s strict instructions.
Standing, I snuggled against Joshua’s side. “She’s as beautiful as the Mona Lisa.” My words were clear and specific, a simple phrase meant to alert Costa that the device was in place.
Joshua and I remained near the sculpture for a while longer, needlessly discussing its suggestiveness while acting our roles.
After sufficient time had passed, Joshua spied the man we’d been waiting for and took my elbow, guiding me to a nearby vacant table. We relaxed with our drinks, waiting for the promised company to make his way toward us. Joshua pointed him out with a tip of his head. The man, one of Ace’s prominent spades apparently, mingled with patrons, taking the long way around.
The man was light on his feet, agile in the way he slipped through the crowd, ping-ponging from group to group with practiced ease,sharing smiles and conversation. Despite his trim frame and the absence of muscle, I had a feeling that the guy was dangerous and deadly. The deceptive lighting made it hard to pin an age on him, but he was most certainly older than me. Early forties minimum, but if I had to guess, he was more likely a healthy fifty.
“We call him Jackal,” Joshua said as the man briefly stopped at a blackjack table and conversed with a few gentlemen. “None of Ace’s men use their real names. Too dangerous.”
“And he’s someone you’ve entertained before?”
“Several times.”
“You like them older, huh?”
“Not particularly, but I like the benefits. I’m more or less Ace’s plaything. Jackal fills in when Ace isn’t around.”
“Poor guy. Second rate to the boss.” The comment earned me a dirty look. “And the doorman?” I asked.
Joshua shrugged. “On occasion. il Capo is worth the ride.”
“I bet.”
“Are you judging me? I’ll have you know, Memphis had a ball when I brought him.”
“I have no doubt. He’s a bit of a slut.”
