We combed the first two floors, scanning the dance floors and slipping between booths and drapes. We tried not to knock against glasses of Mo?t champagne as we shimmied between tables full of models and socialites and men in glossy suits. We downed a couple of vodka and sodas for courage before making our way up one last flight of stairs.
The third floor was smaller than the others. It was furnished entirely in dark wood and thick bamboo furniture, with gold flames casting streaks along the walls. A line of trees in floor-sunken pots climbed towards the ceiling, their spindly branches stretching overhead in waxed leaf canopies. It was like walking into a glamorous safari, only we were the animals.
Towards the far end of the room there was a small stage where a girl with cropped black hair and eye-assaulting sequinned shorts was crooning into a microphone. It was hard not to stare. She was such a train wreck, flopping across the stage and clutching the microphone like it was her life raft. The third floor was a lot quieter than the other two, probably owing to her.
Just behind the unhinged performer was a secluded seating area. It had been cut off from us by drapes and there was a burly bouncer standing in front of the entrance, scanning the small crowd. In the whole club this was definitely the hardest place to get to, and that’s how I knew Jack would be in there.
We crossed the empty dance floor and were halted by the bouncer. ‘Private area, ladies.’
I peered around him. There, surrounded by a bunch of people drinking and chatting animatedly with one another, sat Uncle Jack. My eyes were immediately drawn to Eric Cain beside him, easily discernible by his flaming-red hair. He was the one who had shot Luca. There were lines of white powder spread across the table and he was leaning forward, a rolled-up bill in his hand as he snorted it greedily, his crimson hair flopping in front of him. He snapped his head up and twitched his nose like a rabbit.
Jack threw his head backwards, his eyes tearing with amusement. The last time I saw my uncle he was bleeding out on a murky floor, and now here he was with a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.
I pointed him out to the bouncer. ‘That’s my uncle. I’m here to see him.’
As if remembering some instruction, he stepped aside and ushered us through. Sara was the first to notice me. She was standing apart from most of the group, hovering, an uneasiness permeating her made-up features. She looked exactly how I felt. There was a tall reed of a man shadowing her. He was much older, with salt-and-pepper hair that curled tightly to his head. He had cat’s eyes that tilted upwards at the corner and flashed amber in the dim lighting. His razor-sharp grin was overly curved and entirely mirthless. He was watching me. I looked away. Focus. Sara sidled over and placed a gentle hand on my uncle’s shoulder. He pulled his gaze from his huddle and saw my eyes boring into him.
Jack got to his feet, and before I could stop him he was crushing me into his chest. His drink sloshed against my shoulder and his cigar flickered perilously close to my hair. ‘I’m so glad you came, Sophie. I’ve been so worried about you.’ I pushed him away. Jack gestured to another couch nearby and sat down again. He stubbed out his cigar, patting the space beside him in invitation. ‘Please sit. There’s so much to talk about.’
Understatement.
He looked better than I’d expected, considering the last time I saw him he was basically dying. He was slimline and well dressed in a dark-grey suit. His grey-brown hair had been cut short and he had shaved, making his face appear younger. He was paler than usual, his cheeks absent of their rosy flush, but his eyes were bright.
The woman on Jack’s couch was poised along the edge, her bony fingers laced together on her lap. She was bird-like, with big black eyes rimmed in purple eyeshadow. Donata Marino. Donata Marino was staring at me.
I edged over to the seat. Millie stayed by the entrance, unsure where to put herself. I’ll find you soon, I mouthed at her. I knew she would have wanted to stay, out of solidarity, but I had to talk to Jack without her. He would be reluctant to share his plans in her company and I intended to get all the answers I could.
Millie slipped behind the bouncer and into the paradisiacal surroundings behind us, while I lowered myself on to the couch, keeping closer to Jack than to Donata, who was perched on my left, the stronger of two evils. I felt the coldness of her stare on the side of my cheek.