I ironed my outfit for the evening at Hot Blooded and generally puttered until it was time to dress. My navy blue Capris, taupe bra top, and taupe cotton jacket were perfect—nice, but not too dressy. No way was I wearing the killer heels tonight, not if I might be going toe-to-toe with Laurel. A ponytail was a touch too sporty for the evening, so I tamed my hair as best I could with the flatiron and left it loose.
Pandora nearly scared me out of my sandals when she rrryyow ed from the hood of my truck.
“Geez, Pandora, wear a bell or something.”
She gave me a feline smirk. I must go with you.
“Are you expecting trouble at the club?”
I must be nearby to stand watch.
“And that’s all you’re saying, huh?” I opened the driver’s-side door. “Fine, get in, but please don’t scare Jo-Jo again.”
No, another time would be a bore.
By nine o’clock, we were headed to Daytona in my SSR, Pandora so quiet on the back floorboard, I don’t think Jo-Jo knew she was in the truck. Then again, Jo-Jo was such a ball of nerves, I’m not sure he knew his name.
“What if Wednesday was a fluke?” he asked for the fifth time in ten miles.
“It wasn’t a fluke,” I assured him yet again. “You’ve had the talent all along. You just needed to update your material and gain confidence.”
“But this is all happening so fast. Getting an agent, having gigs in Las Vegas and L.A. What if it all craters because I haven’t suffered for my art long enough?”
“Jo-Jo, you’ve waited decades to get back into show biz.”
He grinned. “You’re right. That’s long enough.”
Good thing Jo-Jo calmed down after that. I wasn’t nervous for him, but I was a ball of dread about seeing Laurel. I put out the call to every deity I could think of that she’d still be banned from Hot Blooded.
The parking lot was jammed—a good sign, I hoped—but I found a spot near the Dumpster. I also saw Saber get out of his SUV, and breathed a sigh of relief that he’d beat us here. Pandora hopped out and scuttled away, presumably to patrol. Donita, dressed in dark brown slacks and shimmery salmon-colored blouse, met us just outside the club’s back entrance.
“Thank you for doing a show for us, Jo-Jo,” she said when I introduced them. “I’ve spoken with your agent, and seated him at a ringside table. Your drinks are on the house tonight, of course,” she said to Saber and me. Donita smiled and said all the right words, but she was strung as tight as a garrote. As soon as we crossed into the shadowed back hall of the club, I knew why. Laurel was back. Out of sight, but ranting so loudly, the whole club could probably hear her.
“This is a vampire bar, Lord Ike,” she railed from a room somewhere above us. “Mortals should walk the edge of their worst nightmares and darkest fantasies here, not be entertained by a comic. That twit of a manager is turning Hot Blooded into a club just like any other in Daytona.”
A masculine voice answered her, speaking too quietly for me to catch the words, but I heard the clacking beads of human bone that Laurel wore in her cornrows.
I wrinkled my nose at the clacking and at the odor of oranges permeating the hall.
“Where is Laurel?” I whispered to Donita.
She sighed and ran a hand through her curls. “In Ike’s office. His door faces the stairs. She went up just as I went out to meet you.”
I looked up the partly open staircase. Yes, the smell was a little stronger there.
“A thousand pardons,” Laurel screeched, “but I must speak. Having a comic perform here is bad enough, but he brings that pitiful excuse of a vampire bitch Francesca with him. She will infiltrate your territory, Lord Ike. She will take your nest for her own. Surely you must see that.”
Again, we heard Ike’s voice, indistinct but rumbling. It didn’t sound like his happy voice, if he had one. Tempted as I was to turn up the vamp hearing and listen in, I didn’t. Not out of respect but because Saber distracted me.
“When did Ike let her out of solitary?” he asked Donita.
“Thursday.” Donita shrugged apologetically and turned to Jo-Jo. “I’m sorry for this. Let me take you to your dressing room and make you comfortable.”
But Jo-Jo didn’t move. His facial muscles had drawn tight, making his thin face look almost skeletal.
“Jo-Jo,” I said, lightly touching his arm.
He startled.
“What’s up, Jo-Jo?” Saber asked, his cop face sliding into place. “You look like you recognize Laurel’s voice.”
“I do. She sounds like my ex-girlfriend. On steroids. I think I just got nervous again.”
Donita smiled. “Come on. The dressing room isn’t lavish, but it’s quiet. And really, everyone but Laurel is excited you’re here.”
That stretched the truth like a whale in a bikini.
Once Jo-Jo was settled, Donita showed us through an unmarked door. I didn’t recall seeing it during the raid, but the door led to the club proper and wasn’t far from the front row of tables where Vince and Jessica Atlas sat. I introduced Jessica Atlas to Saber, then Vince asked Donita a question that allowed Saber and me to talk. We kept our voices extra low because, in spite of the blaring music, vampires have bat ears.
“Jo-Jo’s reaction to hearing Laurel’s voice was more than he let on, wasn’t it?” I said. Saber nodded. “He’s a sucky liar.”