“Thank you! This is my new best friend,” she said to Linda, as Fabulous Deon air-kissed her, too.
“Those are her buds over there. What do you think?” Linda asked Deon, pointing to where Bridget and Trevor stood, beside a grimy pillar, going over some last-minute instructions.
“Rest easy,” Deon said. “The pierced boy with dreadlocks will fit right in. Blondie’s no problem either. If she were a bit scrawnier, she’d even look heroin chic.”
Heroin-he doesn’t know how right he is, Melanie thought. “So, Deon, did Linda fill you in on what I do? I want you to have your eyes open. Because there’s some risk-”
“Oh, pshaw! I bring people to clubs all the time without the teensiest clue who they are. That is par for the course. Nobody would ever dream of holding it against me if somebody turns out to be a narc.”
“Still, a drug bust in Expo’s club would reflect badly on him, and he’s no pussycat.”
“Funny you should mention that. The fact is, I have a bone to pick with Jay Esposito. The man owes me over three thousand dollars for work I’ve done for him and never been paid for. And when I tried to collect, he blackballed me at several other clubs. You have no idea how helpless I felt until La Linda called me up tonight. You’re doing me a big favor by putting me in a position to exact some payback.”
“If you’re sure,” Melanie said.
“I’m sure.”
“Oh, and it’s okay to use Linda’s real name. They’ll probably recognize her from TV anyway. But you and Linda only just met me and these others guys at a club earlier tonight, okay, and you don’t know us very well.”
Deon nodded. “Smart idea, precious. Do you have a favorite alias?”
They worked out fake names for everybody on Melanie’s team.
“Ah, here’s our train, my chickens!” Deon exclaimed, as a southbound six rumbled into the station.
They all got on.
“Come, children. We have to go to the first car,” said Fabulous Deon.
They’d gotten on about five cars from the front, so they slowly made their way forward through the moving train. Heavy sliding metal doors at both ends of the cars opened onto narrow platforms. Melanie stepped carefully across the couplings as the train bucked ahead, wary of tripping in the borrowed stiletto heels, holding her breath against the acrid fumes and ricocheting sparks in the open tunnels. When they reached the first car, it was relatively empty, and they all found seats on a bench across from the conductor’s booth. Within minutes the train pulled into the Brooklyn Bridge station, opening its doors and turning off its lights to indicate it was going out of service. An announcement came on, telling everybody to exit.
“Stay here,” Deon said, and went to knock on the conductor’s booth.
The door slid open. Deon conversed briefly with the heavyset man inside, who consulted a list and nodded. Cash changed hands. Deon returned to his seat and flashed them an “okay” sign. A few minutes later, its lights still off, the train lurched forward. Looking out the window, Melanie saw blackness. A moment later the tracks curved, the train reached its southernmost point and just began to turn sharply uptown. A tumultuous scene came into view. Spotlights bounced off the soaring, tiled arches of a dimly lit, turn-of-the-previous-century subway station. The platform was mobbed with hundreds of writhing bodies dancing to earsplitting techno-pop music.
Melanie leaned forward and made eye contact with Bridget. “Are you all set?” she asked in a low tone, so Linda and Deon wouldn’t hear.
Bridget took a deep breath. “No prob. If Esposito sells it, we’ll find it.”
The subway stopped; its doors opened.
“This is us,” Fabulous Deon said, standing up.
They followed him off the train into the hot press of the crowd. Within minutes Bridget and Trevor had disappeared. Melanie would just have to trust the young detective to do her job properly and keep a watchful eye on Trevor. In the meantime she’d do some snooping around herself.
“What’s the plan?” Melanie shouted into Fabulous Deon’s ear.
“Let’s hit the bar. This way.”
Melanie and Linda followed as Fabulous Deon snaked his way through the densely packed crowd. The revelers were all young and gorgeous, the cream of New York City’s clubgoers in all their finery. Pants were tight, tops revealing, and heels high, yet everybody managed to look sleek and sophisticated rather than cheesy. Melanie felt relieved Linda had dressed her up; she wouldn’t have had a clue what to wear otherwise, and she would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Although the place was so jammed that most likely nobody would’ve noticed. The noise level hovered at a roar, swelling to a deafening clamor every few minutes as a train screeched into the station to discharge new revelers.
After waiting in line to check their coats, Melanie, Linda, and Fabulous Deon fought their way up to a mahogany bar set against a wall under an elaborate tile mosaic that spelled out “City Hall.” The three curvaceous blond bartenders wore identical low-slung jeans and tiny halter tops that revealed pierced navels. After several attempts Linda got a bartender’s attention and ordered them apple martinis. When the drinks came, Melanie took a sip of hers and gasped.
“Powerful,” she choked out, eyes tearing up.
“They have a heavy hand here,” Linda said. “It’s one of the reasons Expo does well. He doesn’t stint on the liquor. Speak of the devil-that’s him. Told you he always puts in an appearance.”
Linda nudged her and gestured toward a tall, muscular guy with a shaved head who stood between two lithe models at the far end of the bar. Jay Esposito looked every inch the mobbed-up nightclub mogul. He was maybe forty, with handsome, Mediterranean features and dark eyebrows. In the middle of a New York winter, his attire was pure South Beach-a white linen suit and a black silk T-shirt setting off a deep tan, an enormous diamond stud glittering in one ear. As she watched, he threw his head back and guffawed, revealing a flash of white teeth. Melanie could see why a messed-up wild child like Whitney Seward would be attracted to this guy. He gave off criminal charisma like musk.
The target was right there in front of her. Down, girl, down. She should stay where she was. Sit back and allow events to take their course without injecting herself. Let the agents do their job. She scanned the jam-packed club, looking for Bridget and Trevor. Wherever they were, they weren’t anywhere near Expo. Still, it wasn’t her place. Even if this opportunity slipped through their fingers, surely somehow another would come along. She’d find Carmen Reyes anyway. Right?
Melanie turned to her sister abruptly. “Introduce me,” she snapped, gesturing toward Esposito.
“I don’t know him. But Fab D can hook us up.”
Fabulous Deon was busy hitting on the bodybuilder type standing next to him at the bar. Linda tapped Deon on the shoulder. He leaned over, lips pursed in an annoyed moue.
“Honeychild, I am otherwise engaged.”
“Fab D, are you blind?” Linda said. “That guy’s straight.”
“You think so?”
“Mos’ def. Come introduce us to Expo before you get the shit kicked out of you.”
“Oh, yes. I’m going to enjoy this. Come along.”
Deon sashayed ahead, beckoning to them to follow. As they approached, Esposito caught sight of Deon and waved at him with a fat cigar held between thumb and forefinger.
“Deon,” Esposito said in a whiny voice, “why aren’t you working tonight?”
“Funny you should ask, sire. Perhaps because you didn’t book me and haven’t paid me for the last six times you did?”
“Yeah, well, whaddaya want, things’ve been slow. Maybe if you’d stop whining like a little bitch, I’d tell my booker to call you.” Esposito looked at Melanie and Linda appraisingly. “So introduce me to your friends.”