Credo's Run, page 18
“Got who?”
“Peanut.”
I stared at him, wondering how he knew I was going to get a dog before I did. “Yeah, she’s with me.” I picked her up when I pulled open the door since I wasn’t sure how many people would be inside.
He stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Not a good idea. It’s the semi-finals of the Karaoke competition. It’s pretty crowded. Give her here. I’ll watch her for ya.”
I blinked stupidly at him and then stared down at her smiling, upturned face. “Um. See, the thing is….” I weighed the possibility that either Kate or A.D. Crawford would find out I left Peanut outside with the bouncer while I went inside to have a drink. I tucked her more firmly under my arm. “I can’t. She doesn’t really belong to me, and she’s supposed to stay with me all the time. It’s kind of an official secret, kind of thing.”
“How can it be secret if you got her with you?”
“Well, maybe not secret anymore, but….”
“Ain’t been a secret for a while. Not for me anyway.”
For the second time since I walked up, I blinked stupidly at him. “Wait, Megan told you about the project?” I couldn’t believe she’d tell Single and not me.
“Project? Naw. Just that she was training the little girl for somethin’ special, that’s all. She’s brung her here a bunch of times, I guess to get her used to loud, crowded places. Said if I seen ya I wasn’t supposed to tell ya nothin’ ‘bout her.” He scratched Peanut under her chin, and she practically wriggled out of my arms. “How’s my big girl? You still learning everything you need to know?” It was strange to see a man in his sixties with a full head of grey hair and the thick build of a weightlifter cooing to a squirmy black and white Boston terrier.
He grabbed her out of my arms. “Here, give her to me. Me’n Peanut are best buds. Ain’t we, girl?” He pulled the door open for me. “I’ll keep her safe. Don’t you worry about nothin’.”
I shrugged, “Okay, but if Kate gets pissed, it’s on your head.” It was dark inside, and I had to wait next to the door to let my eyes adjust. I didn’t, however, have to wait to hear Megan belting out Shania Twain’s, “Man, I Feel Like a Woman.” I often wondered why she hadn’t taken up a music career instead of studying art history at the University. She had the voice, the moves, and the Moxy to carry it off. Catcalls and whistles reverberated off the walls right along with her voice, which was amplified way past what normal human ears were designed to withstand. My eyes finally adjusted, and I pushed my way through the crowd so I could belly up to the bar and order a drink.
The bartender, Gus, a beefy tattooed guy with two hoop earrings in his left ear, leaned over the bar and shouted, “What’ll it be?”
“Mikes.” My voice didn’t carry nearly as far as his, and when he put a hand behind his ear, I leaned in and shouted it again.
He gave me a thumb’s up and slid open the door to one of his coolers beneath the bar. He pulled out a yellow and a red bottle and held them both up for me to see. I pointed to the red, and when he brought it to me, I yelled, “What flavor is yellow?”
“Pineapple.”
I scrunched up my nose, took the Hard Raspberry Lemonade and lifted the bottle in a salute of thanks. I turned in time to see Megan parading across the portable stage, shaking her boobs and bootie with such enthusiasm even the gay guys were energetically cheering her on. At the end of the song, she sensuously ran her hand down between her breasts, winked at some man standing at the foot of the stage, and purred, “Man, I feel like a woman.”
If I thought the room was loud before, it was nothing compared to the raucous whistles and foot-stomping that erupted at the end of her song. Megan slipped the mic onto the stand, spread her arms, and leaped onto the startled crowd, who had just enough time to raise their arms and catch her mid-leap. She crowd-surfed all the way to the bar where Gus had a blue Alaskan Iced Tea waiting for her.
When she landed, he squeezed a lime into the drink and just before he handed it to her, he tipped a dash of extra Cointreau into the mix. “On the house. You can sing here anytime!”
Megan pumped her fist in the air and bounced in a circle before taking the tea and downing about a quarter of the contents.
I snatched it out of her hand and set it on the bar. “Slow down. You know how these things put you on your butt.”
She grinned and shouted over the raucous cheering for the next karaoke contestant. “It’s only my second one. I’m fine.”
Exasperated that she’d already finished off one of the powerhouse drinks, I raised my brows at Gus and mouthed, “What the hell?”
Megan had been coming to his bar for quite a while now, and when she turned to cheer on her competition, he leaned over and shouted in my ear. “Sorry. I got carried away. That’s the last one.”
Gus had just picked up a discarded glass, and while Megan’s back was turned, I snatched it from his hand and poured a good portion of her drink into it. He’d seen Megan when she was three sheets to the wind, and with a furtive glance out of the corner of his eye, he took the half-filled glass from me and set it with the other dirty dishes in a plastic container beneath the bar.
Megan sober was a level three thrill ride. Megan drunk ratcheted up to a level nine. Gus’ Alaskan Iced Teas were known for their punch, and I’d say Megan was at about a level five or six already. I grinned when Gus pulled out the non-alcoholic iced tea and filled her glass to its previous level.
Raising her hands above her head and clapping along with the singer, Megan turned and shouted at me, “C’mon, Alex. She’s really good!”
The lady tried for one of the high notes in Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep,” and I flinched when she didn’t quite make it. There’s a reason the great singers get big bucks for what they do, but still, I had to give this lady credit for attempting such an impossible song.
Laughing, Megan glanced at me over her shoulder and shrugged.
I smiled back, grabbed my drink, and headed to another part of the bar where an accordion partition had been pulled across the room to partially block the noise. My shoes made little sucking noises as I walked, but that didn’t bother me too much. Normally, Gus keeps his bar super clean, but on nights like this, when the crowd probably exceeded the maximum occupancy limit, drinks were going to get spilled and the floors sticky.
Two people seated at a small, round table were just leaving, and I quickly sat before anyone else could claim the spot. I held my arms above the dirty plates and beer bottles until Rebel, one of the cross-dressing waitresses, stopped by with a plastic tub. “Hey, Alex. Let me get this stuff out of your way.” Her voice was deep, and her Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when she spoke. With a practiced hand, she had my table cleared and wiped in no time. “Be right back.”
Sighing, I set the Mike’s on the table and lazily looked around. Gus had two pool tables at either end of the room, and I watched a lady in high heels and short mini-skirt sight in on the cue ball. The ball bounced off the left bumper, angled into the left edge of the striped ten ball, which tapped the maroon-striped fifteen on its right side. The ball rolled decisively into the side pocket. All-in-all a pretty good shot.
Several round tables similar to mine were scattered about the room, some with single patrons drinking alone and others with multiple chairs pulled around them where groups of men and/or women sat around laughing and talking and generally having a good time.
The Backdoor is a gay bar that primarily caters to gays and lesbians, but plenty of straights stop in to have a good time. Gus, a retired marine, doesn’t discriminate. He just makes sure his customers are safe and relatively well-behaved.
The walls were covered with some of his paintings, and I noticed a few new ones that hadn’t been hung the last time I’d been in the bar. Most were oils and depicted nudes in various interesting and often impossible sexual positions. When he’d returned from his tours in the Middle East, he’d used painting as a way to exorcise his demons. He had a vivid imagination and enough talent to impress Megan, who wasn’t easily impressed.
The waitress returned and pulled out her pad. “You already have a drink. You want anything else?”
The smell of freshly popped popcorn had just wafted into the room, and I motioned to the popcorn machine in the corner. Pieces of yellow, popped kernels were cascading down from the kettle into the glassed-in tub below. “I’ll grab some popcorn, but thanks anyway.”
I pushed to my feet, but Rebel motioned for me to sit. “I’ll get it. Be right back.”
The singer had finished in the other room, and they must have been taking a break because Megan came bounding in to find me. “Hey! I lost ya. What are you doing in here? The action’s out there.” She bounced onto the other chair and took a sip of her iced tea. The glass was nearly empty, and when Rebel returned with my popcorn, Megan held it out to her and shouted, “Third one’s a charm!”
Rebel took the glass and disappeared into the bar to give Gus the order.
I leaned back in my chair, and when Gus heard Rebel’s request, he caught my eye and nodded.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Megan nearly fell off her chair when she turned to see what had caught my attention.
“Nothing.” I had to come up with something quick before she got suspicious. “I just can’t believe how these guys, or gals, I guess, dress so much nicer than I do. They’re prettier and more graceful, and the way they do their make-up is….” I shrugged, trying to come up with the right word.
“Professional? Beautiful? Stylish? Alex, you don’t even wear make-up, so you can’t be jealous about that.”
I nodded, glad I’d distracted her from Gus, whom I knew was behind the bar preparing a virgin Alaskan for my whacky best friend.
Single came around the corner with Sugar and Peanut in tow. He looked around, trying to find us, and Megan jumped on her chair and began waiving her arms in the air. “Single! Over here! C’mon, Sugar. Mama’s right here!”
Sugar heard and leaned into the leash, pulling Single to our table.
Little Peanut trotted happily at his heels.
“Here ya go, ladies. I need to toss a few people out, and there’s a line starting to form out front, so I can’t babysit no more. They was real good, though, and got plenty of pats and lovin’ from folk’s comin’ in.”
I had to catch Megan as she hopped down from her chair and nearly fell over onto the table.
She grabbed my arm and crossed her eyes. “Whoa. That stuff sure catches up with ya, doesn’t it?”
I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Ya think? Here, sit down and behave.”
She scrunched up her nose and blinked at me. “What the hell fun is that?” She knelt, hugged Sugar, and patted Peanut on the head. “You girls stay here. I’ll be back.” With that, she hurried back to the other room where another singer had just stepped up to the mike. On the way out, she snatched her drink off Rebel’s tray and blew her a kiss. Halfway to the bar, she hesitated and then veered toward the front door out of my sight.
I waited to see whether she’d return and fervently hoped I wouldn’t have to take the two dogs and go search for her.
After about a minute, she returned with Lak on one arm and a man I didn’t recognize on the other. She carefully held her drink snuggled between her two breasts to keep from spilling anything. When she reached my table, her eyes lit with good cheer. “Look what the cat dragged in!” Megan grabbed a chair from a neighboring group, and without asking whether I’d like company, set it across from me.
The two men had a brief second to thank her before she turned, raised her hands above her head and bounced into the central part of the bar to cheer for the latest singer.
Rebel came over with my popcorn, which she set in the middle of the table. She put her hand on Lak’s shoulder and asked, “The usual?” Lak and the other man nodded, and she left to get their drinks.
I picked up the bowl and offered it to the stranger, whose dark hair was trimmed to within an inch of its life. In fact, it was so perfect I idly wondered whether he had a daily appointment with his barber. His dark, wide-set eyes smiled his thanks as he grabbed a single piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth. I guessed him to be around thirty-five or forty, and judging by his sinewy, somewhat hairy arms, he kept himself in reasonably good shape.
Lak took a handful, but before he started eating, he said, “Good to see you, Alex. Can I introduce my friend, Anthony Jensen? Anthony, this is Detective Alexandra Wolfe. She’s investigating Tiffany and Adham’s drugging.”
Well, that was way more than I’d hoped he’d say, but now that the cat was out of the bag, I nodded and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Anthony. Is it Anthony or Tony?”
“Anthony’s fine. Tony was my grandfather, and he was a real bastard. I hate that I’m named after him, but….” He lifted his shoulders in a ‘what can you do’ shrug and took my hand in a firm grip.
The name tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before. “Have we met?”
He stared at me, tilting his head to the side in case he’d missed some random connection the first time around. “I don’t think so. I don’t recognize you, anyway, but I’m not very good with faces, so anything’s possible.”
People were moving between rooms, squeezing through groups of three or four, sometimes stopping to join in a conversation and other times just passing through looking for friends or for a place to sit down. Lak glanced around and began pointing out various people he knew. “That’s my buddy, Taylor. I’m not sure why he’s not singing. He sounds just like Drake when he really gets going.”
Taylor saw him pointing and lifted his chin in greeting.
Lak waved and then moved on. “That’s China and Zoe. They got married last week and are here celebrating their anniversary.”
I grinned at him. “Their one-week anniversary? Is that some kind of record for them and they feel the need to celebrate?”
Anthony accepted his glass when Rebel returned and lowered the tray to the table. “Something like that. I think China’s last marriage lasted all of two days. Her father dragged her into divorce court and had his pal, the judge, declare the marriage invalid and then sent her to conversion therapy in some clinic in Georgia.”
Lak and I groaned, and I pointed to the two women. “I can see that worked really well, thank God and all that’s holy.”
They both nodded, “Amen to that.”
Lak continued naming people throughout the room, but when he mentioned a city court judge, I held up my hand. “Whoa. Whoa, whoa. Some of these people could lose their jobs for being here, Lak. Maybe you should be a little more discreet, don’t ya think?”
He scrunched his head between his shoulders and sheepishly put a finger to his lips. “You’re right. Sometimes I talk way too much. Where’s Casey, by the way? Is she here, too?”
“Probably at home feeding her menagerie.” When he mentioned Casey, a memory poked at the far fringes of my mind. Unfortunately, whatever it was refused to come to the fore. As Lak chattered on about nothing, I studied Anthony again, wracking my brain trying to place him. When I put his name together with Casey’s, the missing piece clicked into place. I pulled out my phone and looked at her most recent text. Anthony Jensen, with the man’s phone number following the name. “Oh. That’s how I knew your name.”
Curious, Anthony raised his brows. “How?”
I pointed at him and bounced my finger up and down. “You’re the dad from the soccer game. The one Tiffany’s mom slapped.”
He blinked several times before scooping up some popcorn and popping it into his mouth. “How’d you hear about that?”
I could tell by his slight grin that he wasn’t overly concerned. Since Lak had asked us not to let on where we’d gotten the info, I shrugged, “I don’t remember. Casey got it from someone, and she texted it to me.” I waggled my phone back and forth. “We usually share whatever info we have on a case if we’re working it together.”
Lak, who’d never make it in the world of undercover lies and deceit, looked nervously at Anthony to see if he was buying my story.
Oblivious to Lak’s sudden onset of nervous fidgets, Anthony smiled up at Rebel, who set a plate of nachos in front of him. He thanked her before returning to me. “That makes sense. You’re probably talking to just about anyone who’s had any contact with Tiff.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Boy, is Jane a piece of work, or what? And has she ever changed from when we were in school together. Could be two totally different women, if you ask me. Like she’s schizo or something.”
Well, that was news to me. “You and Tiffany’s mom were in school together? High School?”
“Junior High and High School. She was Jane Sealey back then and boy, was she a mousy little thing. Always on the outside looking in. Now you can’t shut her up. She thinks she’s the queen of all the parents at Thomason Elementary, and God help anyone who gets in her way.” He lifted his beer to his lips and took a long drink before continuing. “God, I feel sorry for Tiffany. Jane’s a bitch who doesn’t seem to care if her theatrics bite her daughter in the butt. The kid’s shy as it is, and then add Jane into the mix, and the other kids shit on Tiff just on general principle.”
“That explains why Ms. March thought she could haul off and slap another parent at a sporting event. You guys have a history.”
Megan chose that moment to run in and grab Lak’s arm. “C’mon, Lak. Let’s dance!”
Lak gingerly set down his drink trying not to spill while Megan jerked his arm practically out of its socket. “Hey, easy. Okay, okay, I’m coming.” He smiled at me and called over his shoulder, “Good talking to you,” before he and Meg disappeared onto the dance floor.
Anthony and I sat in companionable silence. Single had managed to get the crowd down to a more manageable—and legal—size, and it wasn’t quite as loud as it had been when I’d first walked in. Still, someone had just opened up with Just Dance by Lady Gaga and Anthony had to lean in and shout in my ear so I could hear him. “It’s kind of like history repeating itself.”
