Page 11 of Tell Me Your Desires
“The fuzz! Something is going on with all these deaths.”
The fuzz. Anya nearly chuckled. But murder was hardly something to laugh about, even with Mr. Bishop’s crazy theories.
“I’m sure they’re just doing their job, Mr. Bishop.”
He grunted as though he didn’t believe it. “Well, you just look out for yourself out there. If someone’s out there targeting young women….”
Then I’ll be fine, Anya thought wistfully. It had been a while since she wasyoung. “I have my pepper spray, Mr. Bishop. Thanks for the heads-up. Now, will you have Perrier tomorrow, or should I go next door to Mr. Neidlemeyer’s?”
Mr. Bishop scoffed. “That old fool ain’t got nothing. You stick with me, young lady. I’ll get your fancy water.”
Anya jumped in her car, immediately locking her doors and checking the back seat. The one thing she disliked about her job was the hours. By the time she left her house and got to the club, it was dark outside. For someone who spent most of their time in the shadows, Anya didn’t like the dark. But this was the path she chose, so she sucked it up. All she could do was stay alert to her surroundings and minimize her time alone outside. Anya hadn’t been joking when she told Mr. Bishop she had her pepper spray.
She cranked up the tunes as she made the drive to the club. There was a time when Anya thought about moving closer to her job, but she’d decided against it almost immediately. Reno was her home. Driving forty minutes each way was a small price to pay to stay in a place that gave her peace and security. Besides, Anya used this time to morph her personality into Lady A.
Lady A started as a necessity for Anya. At a time when everything in her life was changing, Anya needed some semblance of control to hold onto. That control came in the form of a dominatrix. And since it didn’t help her to think about the ‘whys’ of everything before a shift, Anya put it out of her mind.
“The why doesn’t matter,” she said to herself. Anya would repeat that mantra over and over until she believed it. And with each chant, Lady A emerged stronger and more focused. The past didn’t matter to Lady A. Nor did the future. Only the present.The why doesn’t matter.
Lady A—now having fully taken over—turned the music down in the car and frowned as she pulled into the club’s parking lot. Crime scene tape littered the area behind the building.
“What in the hell?” The pit of her stomach began to roil.
“Did you hear about that young girl who was murdered last night?”
With shaking hands, Lady A checked her messages. No return call from Maisie. She shook her head. Surely, Maisie was fine, and Mr. Bishop’s news and the scene here were just a coincidence. It had to be. Lady A parked her car, contemplating going home and locking herself in her safe space with Derek until the scary thoughts disappeared. But they never would unless Lady A knew the truth. She sighed heavily, gathering her stuff, making sure her pepper spray was ready to go if needed.
“Come on. The door is right there. Sonny is right inside.” Sonny was a bouncer for the club. He was huge and intimidating, but to Lady A, he was a big teddy bear. A teddy bear that would rip your head off if you messed with the ladies of the club. Lady A kept that in mind as she got out of her car and rushed to the door. She pushed the lock button on her key fob twice, making sure her car was locked, then slipped inside the building, not even opening the door all the way. She leaned back on the door, taking a minute to catch her breath.
“Ma’am?”
“Shit! Goddamn it, Sonny! You’re as large as a tugboat! How do you sneak around like that?”
Sonny grinned. “Sorry. Didn’t mean ta scare ya. You good? You look a little pale there.”
“I-I’m fine. What’s with all the yellow tape out there?”
Sonny frowned. “Oh. Mr. Frank wanted to see you when you got in. I guess he’ll tell you what’s going on.”
Fuck.“Yeah, okay. I’ll stop by his office. H-have you seen Maisie tonight?”
Sonny shook his head. “No, ma’am. But I haven’t been here that long.”
“Right. Thanks, Sonny.”
Lady A made her way to the owner’s office. Frank Schmidt was one of those men you hated being around. Everyone knew the type. The misogynistic, controlling, slap-you-on-the-ass every time you walked by sort. But he was a necessary evil if Lady A wanted to work at the most successful brothels in Nevada. As it was, legal sex clubs were dwindling as fast as the counties that allowed them. Perhaps closing places like this down was a blessing in disguise for Lady A. She couldn’t keep doing this much longer. And never seeing Frank again was a huge perk.
“Frank?” Lady A knocked lightly on the office door. It was ajar, and she could see one of the young waitresses sitting on Frank’s lap. His big hands gripped her sides hard enough that Lady A imagined there would be bruises there later.
Frank cleared his throat and pushed the girl off his lap. She looked more than happy to be free and practically ran out of the room. “Lady A. I got your schedule right here.” He started pushing papers around his desk.
“Have you heard from Maisie?”
Frank looked up. “Uh, yeah. She called in sick tonight. I, uh, thought you would have known.”
“She… called you?”
Frank scratched the back of his thick neck. “Yeah. Stomach flu or something. Said if she felt better before closing, she might try to make it in.”
