Page 28 of Thief of Night
The man slowly went down on his hands and knees and began lapping up the scotch. Charlie could see spots of color bloom on his cheeks. He must be humiliated, given how uncomfortable he’d been already. Truly, Odette was evil.
Most of the onlookers appeared amused, a few seemed horrified, and at least one was definitely intrigued. Charlie caught a few eyes, shrugged, and took some drink orders.
“Can I have my beer likethat?” one of the women with a wolf cut asked.
“Costs extra,” Charlie told her.
“Is he going to bark like a dog next?” a guy with bleached hair asked, nudging his friend.
“If she tells him to,” Charlie answered, nodding to Odette, who’d come out of the back and was heading to the bar in a neoprene black dress and red boots that laced to her knees.
“Damn,” the guy said.
“Damn,” the woman with the snake agreed.
Charlie poured more drinks. When the bleached-hair guy was done, he and his friend left her a generous tip, as though they were hoping to ward off the evil eye.
“So, how are we doing, Marni?” Odette asked the woman with the snake. She—Marni—must have been the salon owner.
“It’s a good party,” Marni said, with a nod toward the man on the floor. “But not as good as the one you were having.”
After finishing the scotch, the elderly man in the suit got slowly to his feet, brushed his jacket off with dignity, and, with a bow of his head to Odette, walked toward the door.
“Good puppy,” she called after him.
“Can I get you an aviation?” Charlie asked her boss, already reaching for the gin.
Odette smiled at her. “Perfect, darling.”
On the stage, the stylist with the black lipstick was singing along to “Anti-Hero,” impressively off-key. Charlie placed the pale purple drink in front of Odette, the coupe glass frosted with cold.
“You’ve got everybody well trained around here,” Marni said. “Well, except for him.”
Charlie and Odette followed her gaze to Don, who’d given up texting and was now huddling in a corner of the bar, yell-whispering into the phone.
“Oh?” Odette swirled a finger in her drink.
“It’s his girlfriend,” Charlie said. “I think they’re fighting.”
Odette sighed. “Well, so long as they like it.”
“He doesn’t seem the type, does he?” Charlie would have expected Don to just break things off when they were hard, given how little patience he seemed to have in general.
“Oh, I don’t know. He argues withyouplenty. Maybe he likes to fight,” Odette said. “Hopefully, she likes it too. True love can be ugly.”
“You’re a cynic,” Marni said, gesturing toward the door the elderly man had recently gone through. “Maybe you only see the ugly side.”
“No,” Odette told her. “Loveshouldbe ugly.”
Charlie frowned in confusion. She couldn’t help thinking of Mark and the scarred knot of skin where the bullet had struck her.
Odette finished off her drink, then pointed the empty glass at Charlie. “You’re young. You probably still think relationships are all about being careful not to bruise one another.” Then she turned the glass to Marni. “Youhave no excuse.”
“Aren’t they?” Charlie asked. Perhaps, as a dominatrix, this was an area where metaphors about bruising got a little complicated. “Or at least, shouldn’t they be?”
The laugh Odette gave was harsh. “And what happens when you can’t live up to that?”
Charlie’s thoughts shifted to Vince and how careful she’d been aroundhim, how much she tried to hide herself. How thoroughly he’d hidden himself from her. How they might have loved one another, but never actually knew one another. Then she thought of Red, and felt out of her depth. “I honestly don’t know.”
