“Please tell me you’re joking,” he begged.
“More or less. It’s been a while since your last dose, so you should be fine. Still hungry?”
They stopped at a fast food burger joint off of I–43. It was one of those places that had overpriced food to pay for the enclosed playground attached to it. At first Cole was just happy to be able to look around freely again. After he’d gotten something in his stomach, he and Paige sat outside to watch the sun set. Despite the romantic possibilities, they simply killed time before driving the rest of the way to wherever they were going to meet up with Prophet.
“So you don’t think Misonyk can read my mind anymore?” Cole asked.
“Like there was much to read anyway,” Paige shot back.
“I’m serious.”
She took a few more fries from the cardboard container in her hand and stuffed them in her mouth. “I doubt he could read your whole mind,” she said amid a spray of chewed potato. “But it’s nothing permanent.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if it was, the other Skinners who went through the same thing would all be dead. He might be able to sneak in there again, but he’ll have to be real close to do it. If he’s close, then it’s too late to do much about it anyway. We’re hoping to find Misonyk eventually, so even if he does pick up on us, it’s not so bad as long as we get to hear what Prophet has to say.”
Sitting perched on the edge of a curved plastic bench overlooking a string of gas stations and the ramp leading onto the interstate, Cole asked, “Does that ever bother you?”
“What?”
“Living like you’re always one step away from a fight.”
She shook her head and tipped the container back to empty the last, crunchy bits of fries into her mouth. “Nah.” Tossing the container into a nearby trash can with a wide smile painted on it, she checked her watch and said, “Time to go.”
“Should I keep thinking happy thoughts?” Cole asked.
She stood up and dusted the crumbs off the front of her shirt. “You shouldn’t have much trouble with that, considering where we’re headed.”
It was dark when they pulled to a stop again just under an hour later. They’d driven a few miles off the interstate and stopped at a spot without much more than a single building and a whole lot of garish neon to illuminate it.
Paige got out of the car. “Leave any weapons here,” she advised. “There’ll be metal detectors.”
Cole could hear the thump of a nearby sound system rumbling through the window, but couldn’t see any occupied cars nearby. There were plenty of vehicles in the open lot, but not a driver to be found. He got out and spotted Paige walking toward the entrance of a purple A-frame building. The blinking pink neon sign over the entrance matched the bigger sign elevated on a post and facing the interstate. Both signs flashed, Shimmy’s Gentlemen’s Club in curved lettering. Cole craned his neck and looked up at the larger sign towering over the A-frame. Now that he was closer, he could see the outlines of women hanging from the tail of the Y. At the moment, those outlines merely sputtered with the crackle of failing neon.
He ran to catch up to Paige, but she’d stopped before pulling open the club’s front door. When he got to her, he asked, “Shimmy’s? Is it amateur night or do you just like—”
Paige brought her finger up to point at his face so quickly that she almost created a breeze. “Don’t finish that sentence. Prophet picked this place, not me. Do you have any of that money I gave you at the hotel?”
“No,” Cole lied.
“Great. Just great.”
Stepping through the front doors, they found themselves in a small, narrow room. Three of the four walls were covered in pictures of previous “Featured Entertainers” in various poses and glistening with baby oil. Although Cole wouldn’t have admitted to it, he recognized a few of those ladies from features he’d downloaded on company time. A sliding window was built into the wall to the right of a blacked-out glass door, which led into the rest of the club. By the time Paige stepped up to the glass door and placed her hand on the panel with the words COME ON IN printed on it, a balding man with a light brown beard leaned over to look through the sliding window.
“That’ll be twelve dollars for each of you,” he said. When he got a look at Paige, he gave her a friendly smile.
She sighed and dug into her pocket for some money. Although the man in the window looked her over, it wasn’t more than could be expected from any man who admired the sight of a petite brunette in tight jeans. When she handed some money through the sliding window, Cole beamed with enough pride to light up the darkest of the club’s corners. The only thing cooler than hitting a strip bar with a woman like Paige was having that woman pay for his cover. But as much as he wanted to say something to commemorate the moment, he kept his mouth shut.
After receiving two tickets from the bearded man, Paige handed one to Cole and said, “This is good for your first drink. You try to buy a lap dance and I’ll knock you out.”
“Lap dance? Yuck,” he said with an exaggerated scowl.
Not buying his act for a moment, Paige pushed the glass door open and walked into the club.
Shimmy’s wasn’t a big place. There was a pool table and dart board to the immediate left of the entrance, situated next to a counter that sold T-shirts and porno DVDs. An average-size bar stretched along the left wall and was tended by a big guy in a white shirt. At the moment, the only people sitting at the bar were women in slinky outfits and way too much glitter makeup to be patrons. The women smiled and waved to Paige and Cole as they walked by, but didn’t move from their seats.
There was a small stage to the right of the bar, but it was currently dark. All the action was taking place on the main stage, which was straight ahead and surrounded by small tables. As far as strip bar stages went, it wasn’t anything special. It had a pole in the middle, was lit by multicolored strobe lights, and was surrounded by a brass rail and chairs. Only a few of those chairs were occupied, but that was about to change. A busty, strawberry blonde, currently strutting toward the pole, was peeling off her bikini top and swinging it over her head to the beat of an old hip hop song.
“I take it you don’t go to places like this very often?” Cole asked.
Paige kept walking toward the tables at the right side of the stage and had to shout to be heard over the thumping bass. “What?”
Now it was Cole’s turn to shout. “Have you ever been here before?”
“Not this place, but the last time I met Prophet, it was in a shithole outside of Kansas City. This is actually a lot better.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I would have been hassled three times by now in that dive. This place is nice.” As she said that, Paige returned the friendly nod she got from an approaching waitress.
“Hi guys,” the waitress said. “Sit anywhere you like. Can I get you a drink?”
Paige handed over her ticket. “Jack and Coke.”
“What about you, sweetie?” the waitress asked Cole.
“I’ll just have a Coke.”
She took his ticket and walked toward the bar. Even though she obviously had a nice little body, she wasn’t dressed like she might be dancing that night. When Cole looked back to Paige, she leaned toward him and said something that was swallowed up by the bass of the music and the hoots of the men near the stage.
“What did you say?” he shouted.
“Your drink,” she clarified. “I called you a pussy.”
Despite the fact that he should have been at least slightly offended, he couldn’t help but grin. There was just something about hearing Paige say that particular word in those particular surroundings that made him feel warm inside. Very juvenile, but very, very true.
“So where’s this Prophet guy?” he asked.
“Just look for the buffet.”
He wasn’t sure where a strip club might set up its buffet, and he sure didn’t mind having a look around. Dancers in all shades of hotness strutted from one table to another, bending down to stroke the customers’ hands and ask for a private dance. The dancer on stage was down to a few bandannas wrapped around her waist and nothing else. Another woman stood at the edge of the stage waiting for the next song to start. And there, like a toad sitting in the middle of a flower bed, was the buffet.