Tavia had coached me on the full-court press. Some of the girls hung around the front hall trying to poach customers before they could climb the stairs to the nightclub, where most of the working ladies would be found.
“I’m going to look around,” I said. “But thanks.”
She pouted at me, ran her hand back through her long ebony hair, and said, “You don’t think I’m beautiful?”
“No, I think you’re breathtakingly beautiful.”
“Good,” she said, smiling brilliantly again. “We go, then? You’ll never forget Vitoria. The whole rest of your life you’ll close your eyes and think of me.”
“I’m sure I will,” I said. “But an old friend recommended Estella, and I came wanting to see her.”
Vitoria’s dark eyes widened. Her pert little nose scrunched up and she looked at me askance and said, “Whatever you’re into, Jack.”
Chapter 67
UNNERVED, I WATCHED Vitoria walk away fast and wondered what it was about Estella that had caused that reaction. Tavia had told me that Centaurus could provide a woman for every sexual perversion. Except for pedophilia; no girl there was under eighteen. That was strictly forbidden and checked constantly.
But other than that, anything goes, I thought, stripping off the last of my clothes and putting on one of the clean and folded terry-cloth robes stacked on tables. God only knew what Urso’s woman was into or offering.
I slipped on some sanitized rubber clogs and left the locker room, following the sound of pulsing dance music and Tavia’s directions to the top floor, where I entered a medium-size, L-shaped room with a bar, low mood lighting, and a cornucopia of attractive women. There were twenty men in robes and fifty ladies of all shapes and sizes dressed in lingerie. Every one of them was aggressive.
I hadn’t taken ten steps into the room when women started to swarm me from all angles. They surrounded me, smiling, looking dazzling and appreciative, asking me questions and touching me lightly. The women behind me started whispering in my ears, pressing themselves against me as they described their skills and specialties. I wondered if this was how Ulysses felt strapped to the mast of his ship, listening to the Sirens’ song.
After twenty seconds of this—well, maybe thirty—a few of them started taking liberties with my terry-cloth robe, and I called a halt to the action.
“Please, ladies,” I said, raising my hands. “You’re all lovely, truly, but I’m looking for Estella this evening.”
Suddenly there was a lot more room around me and the spectacular smiles were all turning, as if they’d sniffed something unsavory about me.
“Is she here?” I asked.
A vivacious redhead rolled her eyes, said, “She’s over in the corner, Mr. Freaky Man. But she looks tied up to me.”
I followed her gaze and saw a pleased and very heavyset Chinese guy sitting on one of the plush couches and pouring himself a healthy shot from a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red he’d had chilling in an ice bucket. He swayed slightly, obviously hammered. He drank half the whiskey in two gulps.
Then he leered at the gorgeous brunette woman in black lingerie sitting beside him and started to rub his free hand all over her very pregnant belly.
Chapter 68
GROSSED OUT?
I was.
It was about as creepy a thing as I have ever witnessed, and my initial reaction was to recoil, turn, and walk away as fast as Vitoria had. The fact that the women who’d surrounded me were now looking at me as if I were a lower form of life than Bug-Eyes only made matters worse.
I was about to pull out my cell and call Tavia, get her take on how best to handle the situation, when I glanced into the corner and saw from Estella’s blank, faraway expression that she was suffering.
Without another thought, I walked over to them and said, “Estella?”
She blinked, sat up, and looked at me quizzically. The Chinese man’s drunk eyes were trying to focus and doing a poor job.
“Wait your turn,” he slurred.
I ignored him, said, “I’ll pay you twice what he’s paying you, plus tip.”
Estella smiled.
The Chinese guy got belligerent, said, “She’s with me, gringo.”
“Not the way I understand it,” I said. “Have you had your wristband checked with Bug-Eyes?”
Estella smiled even more at me and tried to get up. The Chinese guy put out a pudgy arm to hold her in her seat, said, “You stay where you are, bitch.”
Why do some people have to do things the hard way?
I curled my left hand into a fist with the first knuckle of my middle finger exposed and smashed it tight behind his jaw about an inch below his right ear. He made a soft squeal of pain, let go of Estella, and slumped against the couch, looking like he was about to be violently sick on his terry-cloth robe.
I held out my hand. “Estella? Shall we?”
Urso’s girlfriend grinned ear to ear, stood, and took my hand. She paraded me through the room, ignoring the disgusted, sidelong glances of the other women, and led me through a maze of hallways to an empty room with a bed, a shower, and mirrors on the walls and ceiling.