Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“But—”
I end the call before she can ask any more questions.
Maddox not paying his speeding ticket on time, and then Alissa not showing up for what could have been a life-changing audition.
A part of me has always been concerned since Maddox and Alissa ran off with such little notice. It didn’t really line up. But I always figured it was two people in love doing something crazy before their hormones ebbed and they landed back on the ground.
But now, with these two new pieces of information…
I’m officially concerned.
Hell, I’m more than concerned. I’m fucking terrified that my best friend’s life might be in danger.
I need to get to the bottom of this, and fast.
22
BIANCA
I spent the bulk of my Sunday resting. Harrison dropped a lot of information on me last night, and processing it and then giving my all in the performance last night burned up all of my energy.
We used to go to church every Sunday. Mom and Dad would dress us up—red for Rouge, white for me—and take us to St. Sylvia’s Catholic Parish in Wilmette. We were never in Sunday school. Dad wanted us in the service, paying attention to what the priest had to say. We were bored out of our minds, and we were usually too young to understand what the sermons were about.
We didn’t go because Mom and Dad were particularly faithful people. At least, our father wasn’t. We went because it was expected of them, because it gave Dad something of a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card whenever people got suspicious of his business practices at Aces. Surely a man who went to church every Sunday would never do anything dubious.
I’m not exactly sure what sort of shady business went on at Aces when he ran it, but it’s nothing compared to what Harrison thinks my sister is doing. Could she really be behind Maddox Hathaway and Alissa Maravilla’s disappearance?
Rouge didn’t continue going to church after she took over the club. Instead, she garnered immunity by rubbing elbows with every elite in the Chicago metropolitan area. The mayor, city council, local celebrities, and the heads of police stations and hospitals. She’s so far up all their asses that no one would ever be able to pin any kind of crime on her without the most concrete evidence. Even if they could, I’m sure she’s got damning shit on all of them.
I stopped going to church when Rouge did. It didn’t do a lot for me. I’m spiritual but not religious. I’m pretty sure there’s something up there—some element of divinity—that we as humans cannot truly comprehend, and that going to church is meaningful to a lot of people.
I wish it were for me. I could use some guidance right now.
Maybe I’ll start visiting some local churches after all this blows over. There are so many with so many different practices. Maybe I’ll find one that resonates with me.
But I sure as hell wasn’t going to start looking this morning.
I’m at Aces now, touching up my makeup in my dressing room. I got here an hour before opening. Doing my makeup gives me something to keep my mind busy. Because I’m excited about exploring my sister’s other clubs this week, but I’m also kind of terrified.
Terrified that my sister will find out what we’re up to, and even more terrified of what we might discover if she doesn’t.
My phone buzzes.
Speak of the handsome devil. It’s Harrison. Probably calling to confirm our plans for tomorrow.
My AirPods are in—I usually listen to music when I’m putting on my makeup—so I accept the call while leaving my phone on the counter. “Hey there, handsome. How’s your evening?”
“Not bad. Are you at the club?”
“I am. Got here a little early to do my makeup, maybe look around a bit.”
“Great. I was just thinking… Do you have access to Chet’s ledger?”
My heart falls a bit. He’s not calling about our date at all. But there are certain things that should take priority, so I steel myself before responding.
“His ledger?”
“Yeah. His list of all the people who have come to the club.”
“I know what a ledger is, Harrison.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to come off as condescending.”
I draw in a breath, sigh it out. “You didn’t. I didn’t mean for that to come out so icy.”
“No problem. Do you think you could get hold of it?”
I bite my lip. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Chet keeps his book on him at all times. I think he secures it under his desk when he’s not in the foyer. No one is allowed access to it except for him and Rouge. It contains all the clientele’s personal information. Addresses, phone numbers. I wouldn’t be surprised if it had social security numbers and credit card information, too.”
“If he leaves it under his desk, then it can’t be that hard to access.”