Page 66 of Shattered
CHAPTER 18
Melissa
Dahlia stood outside of the Terrariums, her arms crossed in front of her, the occasional blue vein sparkling under the flashing lights from the stage. The rumor was that business was so slow, due to the Angel, that Dahlia had to take over Jake’s security post herself. He had quit and vanished along with it. No one could get a hold of him, not even me. I had convinced Iris and Teagen to try calling him, but no matter who dialed, it went straight to voicemail. Like his phone was turned off, buried somewhere. But no one seemed concerned. And it wouldn’t have bothered me either, because this wasn’t the first time Jake had disappeared, except that he had never once quit his job before disappearing. It unsettled me, even though I trusted that he would show up eventually.
Of course, there were two pink cardboard boxes full of cupcakes in the Greenhouse, with a note from Dahlia. She wanted us to pretend like she wasn’t there, to behave as we normally did, since we were ‘such hardworking servers.’ Her words were garbage. All she wanted was to make sure we were hustling the few customers that were there. Taking Jake’s post was a blessing to her; she could keep an ever-present eye on us. I was happy to have Garrett, to not have to worry about her judgment.
I sat across from Garrett as we sipped our drinks. The circular velvet booths in the lounge were so high that they blocked most views, in or out of the booth. Every once in a while, one of the strobe lights flickered from the stage, lighting us inside of the circle. The last time I had checked, Kendall was prancing around on stage, showing off her sensual talents. As a body painter, I went on stage a few times during the week, but the lead dancer always had nightly shows. It must have made Kendall cocky. We had kept our distance since that night, and my bruise only needed a single layer of cover-up now. We now had an understanding that neither of us would mess with the other person again.
It had been a weird couple of weeks.
When the music slowed and the volume decreased, I lowered my glass. “How was the wedding?” I asked.
“Fine,” Garrett said.
I furrowed my brows. I didn’t expect him to gush about it, but it seemed like an overly brief statement, even for him, and especially for a wedding.
“I watched the livestream,” I said.
“Did you?” He smirked, but the smile immediately dropped from his face. A loud voice interrupted us. Despite the visual privacy of the booths, some aspect of the club made it so that you could hear the next booth’s conversations as if they were right next to you. Sometimes, I wondered if Dahlia designed it like that on purpose.
“I’m saying he’s an idiot,” the man said. I recognized the roughness to his tone; Irvine Montgomery, one of the highest-paid bankers in the nation. “Whether he killed those men or not, or beat up a hooker or not, I don’t care. I’ve done both, and you don’t see me running like a scared little pussy. You only need an ounce of intelligence to get away with it. Jake had nothing but a tail between his legs.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Garrett’s shoulders visibly tensed.
“People,” I muttered. I rubbed Garrett’s arm, but he ignored me. “It seems like you came back from the wedding quickly.”
“It wasn’t that far away.”
I raised a brow and opened my mouth to speak, questioning him about the exact location of his so-called paradise, but he held up a hand, motioning for me to be quiet.
“Don’t say that kind of stuff out loud,” Teagen whispered coarsely in the booth next to us. “Someone will hear you.”
“I’m not afraid. I’ve got more money than God to protect me.” He laughed, loud and hardy, daring the room to listen in. “The killer can’t get to me. Angel, my ass. The killer is picking off low hanging fruit. Maybe not as easy as a hooker, but still, easy prey.”
“Irvine, I’m serious. Shut. Up,” Teagen hissed.
“The hell is your problem?” he shouted.
“Lower your voice. They’ve been questioning us. They think someone here is connected—”
“I’m not here to take orders from a whore.”
“Server,” Teagen corrected. “We’re entertainment servers here.”
“All right. My mistake. You’re a talented, submissive, musical whore then.”
Garrett clenched his fists so hard that the glass cracked in his hands, the liquid trickling onto the table. I sucked in sharply.
“Teagen is okay,” I said. I held his arm and pointed in the direction of the Terrariums. “Dahlia is watching.”
Irvine stood from the booth and glared back at Teagen. “I’m going to find Iris,” he muttered. He glanced at our booth and saw Garrett’s bleeding hand. “You should have that looked at,” he grunted.
I motioned Garrett towards the edge of the booth. “I’ll get someone to clean this up.” I forced him to stand by pushing on his back. “Let’s clean you up too.”
On our way to the Terrariums, I let the bartender know about the spill in the lounge, and we quickly made our way past Dahlia, who pretended not to notice us. Whatever.
Inside the gallery room, I pulled out a first aid kit stuffed in a hidden compartment. The glass had broken in large chunks, but I still inspected his hand for shards. He had oddly long fingers, like he could play piano. Or like he could squeeze a neck. But that was my libido talking. I did one more check, and once I was satisfied that he was free of glass, I poured some rubbing alcohol on it, spilling some on the carpeted floors. He stared off into space, still visibly fuming about what Irvine had said. The burn of the alcohol didn’t faze him.
