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)
Bianca holds up a finger. “What my…boyfriend is trying to ask, Zeb, is if the people employed at MINOS ever check back in. It might be uncommon, but does it ever happen?”
Zeb taps his fingers on the bleached marble. A small bead of sweat trickles down his forehead as he leans in, his voice in a harsh whisper. “Honestly, never.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Never ever?”
“Never ever.” He glances around the room as if expecting a silent assassin to come out of some hidden corner. “And if I’m being honest, I’ve always wondered why. I pride myself on how I run this club in Rouge’s absence, and I treat my staff here with the utmost respect while they’re on the clock. Of course, there is no shortage of great places to work in the city, but even so, whenever a server leaves, I never hear from them again.”
“Do you think they go back home to Greece, or wherever?” I ask.
Zeb shrugs. “Maybe. But even then, in the day and age of social media, it wouldn’t be difficult for one of them to connect with me. It just doesn’t add up. And also…” The color drains from his face and he pulls on the collar of his button-down, his eyes darting toward the office door.
“Also what, Zeb?” Bianca asks.
Zeb’s voice grows even softer. “It’s not just the servers. Sometimes it’s a patron.”
I drop my jaw. “What?”
He nods slowly. “And they really have no reason to disappear, unless they’re getting involved in something shifty. There’s always some excuse—a big vacation or a family emergency or something—but I’ve been in this business long enough to recognize the feeling of my skin crawling when something isn’t quite right.”
I stroke my chin. This sounds eerily like what might have happened to Maddox and Alissa.
“Do you have any specific examples?” Bianca asks.
Zeb scratches the back of his head. “Sure. There was a woman named Dishari who used to come here all the time with her boyfriend, Orin. He was a guitar player in a local band and she had no job, so I have no idea how they could even afford to pay the cover, but they were here almost every night. Then one night I overheard her having some tiff with Rouge, and…” He swallows, looks at Bianca. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I should discuss this in front of you.”
“It’s fine, sir.” Bianca crosses her legs. “I’m already aware of what people think of my sister. We’re just trying to help our friends.”
Zeb cocks his head. “Your friends?”
I raise a hand. “One crisis at a time. You were telling us about this woman who used to come here.”
Zeb blinks a few times. “Yeah. Sorry. She and Rouge had some argument. I think over how much she compensates the waitstaff—one of them must have let her know how much they’re paid.”
“How much are they paid?” I ask.
“Beats me,” Zeb says. “That’s Rouge’s department, and they are expressly forbidden to discuss that with me or with the patrons. But one of them must have blabbed to Dishari, and she was discussing it with Rouge.”
“Was the boyfriend not around?” Bianca asks.
Zeb shakes his head. “He was on a gig out of town. Dishari was here herself that night. And then a few days later”—he snaps his fingers—“she dies of a snakebite.”
I widen my eyes. “A snakebite?”
“Yeah. A goddamned snakebite. In the middle of Chicago.”
Bianca widens her eyes. “How did that happen?”
“I guess a snake got out of the reptile house at the Lincoln Park Zoo. Made its way all the way to where Dishari lived. Bit her in the dead of night. It was a garden-level apartment, and she left her window open. Orin discovered her when he got back from his gig.”
“My God,” Bianca whispers.
“You’re telling me,” Zeb says. “Orin was completely devastated. He’d have gone to hell and back to save her, but she was gone.”
I exchange a glance with Bianca. Her eyes are wide and her lips are trembling.
I have a feeling she’s wondering the same thing I am.
Did something similar happen to Maddox and Alissa?
Second Star is a rooftop bar with an expansive view of the cloudless night sky. It’s in a part of town a little farther away from the lights of the city, so several constellations illuminate the space. You can even see a hint of the Milky Way in the distance, and a large part of the bar is covered by a domed planetarium.
The waitstaff here are dressed scantily, the women in light-blue cutoff shorts and bikini tops and the men in forest-green Bermudas adorned with red feathers with no shirt. They’re similar to what the servers wear at Aces, minus the addition of fairy wings strapped on the backs of the men and women alike.
This is a bar that I’m familiar with. I’ve taken women on a few dates here, though I had no idea at the time that Rouge Montrose owned it. I’ve met the guy who runs the place in her stead, and he’s not the kind of person you’d easily forget.