No One to Trust (16 page)

“It’s a huge technical error,” I said as we climbed into the Jag. “I should have checked out Michael Hart myself.”

“It’s not your fault. Michael was dead and I assigned you Darren Greening. Besides, it was Darren, not Michael, that fingered you in the note. How’d you know Michael?”

“We met at a party following a lecture on nanophotonics several years ago. I think we met only that one time. I didn’t remember his name, but I remember his face.”

“Do you recall what you talked about?”

My face heated. “Not exactly.”

“So, how does your connection to Michael Hart play into things here?”

“I don’t know yet. But I remember we exchanged email addresses, which would explain how Darren got it. Give me a bit more time to think about it.”

He gunned the Jag through an intersection. “Okay, think hard and fast. As soon as we get back to the office I’m going to see if Dr. Gu is willing to see us tomorrow. We’ll fly up there and meet him. I want to know if Gu knows something.”

When we got back, I went to my office and sat down, putting my head on the desk. Jeez, I was screwed and I meant that both literally and figuratively.

How could it be that Michael Hart, my one and only sexual encounter, was now front and center in X-Corp’s first case? How would I explain to Finn and Ben my only connection to Michael Hart was my virginity? I sure as hell didn’t want us all to sit around and explore the ramifications of my one-night stand and the embarrassing fact I hadn’t even remembered his name.

I wanted to throw up.

When Finn strode into my office, I lifted my head and valiantly plastered a smile on my face.

“Dr. Gu agreed to see us tomorrow.” Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice my I’m-sick-at-heart look. “I’m having Glinda book us on a flight up to Boston tomorrow morning bright and early. Hopefully, we’ll be back in time for that dinner at my place in the evening.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. That would be great.”

“Any luck remembering more about Hart?”

“I’m working on it.”

He stood. “Good. I’m off in an hour to meet with those potential investors. I suggest you turn in early and get some sleep. I’ll pick you up about six in the morning, so we can make our seven-forty flight.”

“Okay,” I agreed. Guess I wouldn’t tell him about my plans for the strip club tonight.

At four-thirty I left the office and reluctantly headed for Shay’s Hair Salon. I wasn’t happy about it, but right now my life was in the crapper anyway. Following Ursula’s advice, I sat down, shut up and let Karen work her so-called magic. I kept my eyes closed the entire time, not wanting to know what she was doing to me. When she was finished I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

It wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be. She’d cut my hair just a little bit, sort of angling it in the front so it framed my cheeks. It seemed kind of puffy and girly, but it wasn’t awful. The highlights, on the other hand, were another story.

“It looks kind of streaky.” I examined the chunks of blond.

“It’s the rage. You look amazing.”

“I look like a cross between a girl surfer and a skunk.”

She laughed. “Ursula said you’d be a tough customer. You look fine, sweetie. Now it’s time for the bikini wax. I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible. Trust me.”

What else could I do? Reminding myself change was good and I was strong enough to handle it, I followed her.

She led me to a small room with a long cushioned table covered by several plush yellow towels. Several scented candles had been lit about the room, casting warm shadows on the walls.

“Take off your clothes from the waist down and lie down on the table,” she instructed, pressing a button on a stereo. The soothing sounds of waves lapping against a shore filled the room.

I hesitated. “Um, why do I have to undress from the waist down? I mean, it’s November and I’m not planning on wearing a bikini any time soon. I think we can safely skip this part.”

“You want to impress this man of yours, right?”

“Yes. But not if it involves a bikini. We’re just having dinner.”

Karen pointed a finger at the table. “Ursula warned me I might have to get tough. Look, I’ve got my orders so park it, sister. Now.”

“Jeez, no need to go all commando.” I unsnapped my jeans and pulled everything off. I gingerly hopped up onto the towels, feeling weird with my naked nether regions on full display. “Is now a good time to ask what exactly a bikini wax entails?”

She pressed me back onto the table and laid a warm washcloth against my privates. “No.”

“Is there ever going to be a good time?”

“No.”

“Oh, God.” I moaned, staring at the ceiling. “This doesn’t involve pain, does it?”

She was ominously silent, doing something behind my head so I couldn’t see what it was.

My stomach started doing weird, nervous flips. “Will it take long?”

“I sure hope not. Now I need you to hold as still as possible.”

I gasped as she dropped a warm goopy substance in the crevice where my thigh connected to my pubic bone.

“What’s that?” My heart started beating fast. I wasn’t going to like this.

“Wax.” She showed me a white strip of cloth. “I’m going to press this against your pubic area and pull out the hair.”

“What?” I screeched. “What do you mean by
pull?
”

Before I could draw a breath, she’d pressed down the cloth and
rrrriiiip,
up came the hair. And up came me.

I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Mary, Mother of God!”

Karen had apparently anticipated my reaction because she was ready for me. Although she wasn’t more than five foot three, she moved like a linebacker. She wrestled me back onto the table and pinned me in place until my breathing returned to a semi-normal state.

“Let me up.” Tears filled my eyes. “I’ll give you a hundred-dollar tip.”

She reached over with one hand and turned up the music. Loud. “Sorry. It’s a matter of professional honor. I gave my word I’d do you right.”

I wasn’t too proud to beg. “Two hundred. Please.”

About ten strips and lots of screaming later, she was finished and I was a trembling, shaking mess. She rubbed some special ointment on me and permitted me to sit up. I nearly rolled off the table, but managed to get my feet under me.

“Don’t use any perfumed soaps.” She took a clean strip and wiped it across her forehead where I noticed she was sweating profusely. “And avoid sex for at least twenty-four hours.”

“I don’t think sex will be a problem.” I gingerly pulled on my undies and jeans, trying not to touch any of the raw and stinging area. “No one, myself included, is going anywhere near where you just scalped. Ever.”

She chuckled. “You’ll soon see that it will have all been worth it. Guys absolutely love a bikini wax.”

Leading me out the door, she pointed to another room nearby. “That’s the recovery room,” she said. “Aromatic therapy, spiced chai and relaxation music if you need some down time before driving home.”

I’d already been in the salon three hours and there was no way in
hell
I was spending a moment more in the torture salon. I paid up, giving Karen just over a fifteen-percent tip against my better judgment, and got my butt out of there as quickly as I could.

I headed home, cranky because my hair smelled like flowers, my private area felt like a hundred bees had stung me, and I was starving. The minute I got home, I took four ibuprofen, swallowing them at the same time. Opening a can of chicken noodle, I heated it on the stove while slathering some saltine crackers with peanut butter and eating them standing up at the counter. After I finished my wretched dinner, I went online and spent the next several hours reacquainting myself with Michael Hart.

It turned out over my four years at Georgetown, we’d had seven classes together, but I’d never noticed him in any of them. Not that I was big on noticing people in the first place, but there you have it. I racked my brains and I’m pretty certain we had exactly one conversation during the post-lecture party on nanophotonics followed by an utterly forgettable sexual encounter. Now I wondered if everyone had been wrong about the possible sexual relationship between Darren and Michael. Maybe Michael had been experimenting or maybe he’d never been gay. More ominous, perhaps our sexual experience had somehow turned Michael off women from that point on. Jeez, that was a seriously depressing thought, although I suppose in all actuality, it didn’t matter much at this point except to my now at-an-all-time-low sexual confidence.

But it did connect me in a peripheral way to Darren Greening. If Michael had talked about me, this might have been Darren’s way of searching for a kindred soul with a person we both had in common. He trusted me because he had no one else to trust.

By ten o’clock, the pain in my private area had almost completely subsided. Grateful, I stuffed some cash, my driver’s license and keys into my jeans pockets, logged off my laptop and checked the address for the club where Ursula worked. I more or less knew the area, so I got there a bit earlier than I expected. The club was located in an interesting part of Jessup. There were several gentlemen’s clubs and X-rated bookstores along the street, but just one block away stood the imposing silhouette of St. John’s Catholic Church, Jessup’s oldest structure. I know there had been many protests and complaints over the years of the proximity of the X-rated area to a house of God, but so far, nothing had changed, and life continued on.

I double-checked the address and pulled into the parking lot in front of a red-and-black building. The lot was completely full and I had to circle twice before someone vacated. When I walked to the front of the club, I noticed the neon sign for the club: Boobie and Bush Bar.
 
I hunched my shoulders and pulled the collar of my coat up against my cheeks. Jeez, I hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew.

The bar was crammed with men and stank to high heaven of sweat, alcohol and smoke. Waitresses dressed in super short shorts and bras carried trays above their heads through the teeming mass. A dark-lit stage held two women gyrating against an iron pole to the grinding beat of a rap song. While I watched in surprise, a young guy, clearly drunk, half crawled on the stage and shoved some bills into one of the women’s panties before being dragged away by what looked like a four-hundred-pound bouncer.

I seriously considered backing out of there when the bouncer made his way directly for me. His bald head gleamed unnaturally in the light and his arms were the size of small tree trunks. I had decided to scream and make a run for it when he grabbed my arm.

“Are you Lexi Carmichael?”

My breath hitched in my throat. “How’d you know?”

He smiled and I noticed he was missing two of his bottom teeth. “We don’t get many female customers here. Ursula said you’d be coming. She wants to see you backstage.”

“Okay.” As if I had a choice. He dragged me through the crowd, once or twice actually lifting me off my feet until we reached a door at the side of the stage. He knocked three short times then two more in rapid succession before it opened.

“I’ve got Ursula’s friend here.” He shoved me into the opening. Someone reached out, pulled me in and slammed the door shut.

“Sorry,” a woman dressed in a black bra with red tassels said to me. Her blond hair was piled high on her head. “Sometimes the men out there can be such asses.”

I tried not to stare, but the tassels were mesmerizing. They seemed to swing in perfect harmony as she talked. “I’m Susan.” She held out a hand. “Glad you’re here. Just in time.”

I was just about to ask what I was in time for when Ursula rushed toward me. Tonight she was dressed in a bright yellow bra and undies with black stockings. She looked like a queen bee ready for sex.

“Thank God you came,” she said. “We need you to fill in for Michelle tonight.”

“What?”
I screeched as she thrust something purple and silky at me.

“We’re desperate, Lexi. Michelle’s baby is really sick. We’ve got another girl coming in to help out, but she can’t get here for another half hour. Look, Michelle desperately needs this job. She already missed yesterday. Hank will can her if she misses tonight. We need you to cover for her. Please, I beg you.”

I stepped back in horror. “You’re joking, right? No, no, no. Absolutely not.”

“This is not a yes or no situation. There is a young girl’s job at stake here. You can do this. It’s dark and you’re about Michelle’s height. We’ll add this mask to your costume to hide your face.” She held up a purple velvet eye mask. “Hank won’t even know she’s missing. Just walk around on the stage like you did in your living room. Close your eyes. Be Pussy Galore. You’ll go on third and stay out for only about seven minutes. Seven minutes. I swear, that’s all. Susan will be out there, too, so you won’t be alone.”

I held my hand out like a stop sign. “I hope you’re not offended when I say there is absolutely no way in all the depths of hell that I’m going on that stage.”

“For God’s sake, Lexi, it’s for a baby. Seven minutes of your life to help out a young girl and her baby.”

I started to hyperventilate. How could I say no to a baby? “Oh, God. This is the worst idea in the history of worst ideas.”

The other girls pressed around, urging me to help. Without actually agreeing, I felt everyone start to pull off my clothes. I felt as if I were drowning.

“Wait. I think I might be sick.” The crowd backed off. Right at that moment the door slammed open and a fat guy with a cigar clamped between his teeth strode in.

“What the hell is going on back here?” he shouted. “Tawny and Tickle are dancing three minutes over their set. Ursula and Tina, get your asses out on stage.
Now!
”

Ursula and Tina, scrambled out onto the stage while the other girls had stepped in front of me protectively. But the guy had noticed me and squinted at me suspiciously. He shoved the girls out of the way. “Who the hell is this?”

Susan stepped forward. “My sister. She’s visiting.”

“Well, I don’t pay you to damn visit. And why is she half-dressed? Get back to work and get her the hell out of here.” With that he stomped out, slamming the door behind him.