This whole thing is probably a bad idea, I know this, but that isn’t going to stop me from pursuing it. I need to play it right and not mess it up. Mick and Meeee, sitting in a treeeee, k-i-s-s-i-n-geeeee…
We get back to the car and he hesitates before getting in. I stare at him over the roof while my door remains shut. Words come flying out of my mouth without any forethought or planning on my part.
“Thanks for kissing me.”
I instantly feel beyond stupid over the fact that I can’t seem to control my mouth - not when it wants to kiss Mick or when it wants to say things that should probably just stay in my head.
“Thanks for kissing me back,” he says. The expression on his face is more adorable than I can stand. Maybe it’s not so bad that my mouth runs away from me sometimes.
I open the door and get in before it can do anything else and blow this moment between us. “We all good?” I ask, twisting around to see Alissa and Colin.
They’re each looking out opposite windows. Colin doesn’t acknowledge me, but Alissa nods silently.
“Okee dokee. Off we go, then.”
As Mick leaves the parking lot, I pull out a Slim Jim and dangle it in front of his face. It stays stiffly out in front of his nose for a few seconds but then starts to bow down, going limp in my hand. I bounce it a few times for effect and it taps his nose. “Want one?”
He takes it from me, smiling just before he rips off a big chunk with his teeth. “Don’t mind if I do.”
We’re both grinning like fools as we drive north on the Pacific Coast Highway. I don’t know what’s going on in his head, but I’m looking forward to the next time we can catch a stolen moment with no one looking. I wiggle with the anticipation. I’m totally going to touch his junk.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
AFTER SEVEN HOURS ON THE road, my ass feels as flat as a pancake. Maybe not even a full pancake. More like a crepe. Alissa and I stand at the front of the car, discussing our game plan while I shake it out and fluff it back up to its badda-boom glory. The guys are inside the car, because Alissa said they look too suspicious. She also claims that there’s nothing more non-threatening than a pregnant girl, but I beg to differ. She’s somehow managed to work everything to her advantage and get exactly what she wants from three fully grown adults who used to think they were in charge of their lives, and she hasn’t even broken a sweat getting it done, either. She’s a monster in pregnant lady clothing.
Alissa was allegedly too tired most of the way here to discuss our plans, but since we arrived in San Jose, she hasn’t shut up. Turns out, it was better to wait like she suggested and get to know the lay of the land first. Now we can follow someone from a distance without looking like maniacs since we kind of know the streets a bit. I hate to admit it, but so far, having her along has been a bonus. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have had my kiss. The kiss. The one I can’t stop thinking about. Just looking at Mick through the back window gets me all aflutter.
“Okay, so now what?” I ask. Without waiting for her answer, I continue. “I say we wait outside and watch people leaving, and follow the ones who look like they’re going for a drink.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Alissa asks.
“Watch and learn, grasshoppah.” We lean on the car and watch people filtering out of the building. It’s six at night, which we all agreed would probably be the time the lower-level employees would be leaving. Now we just have to hit the lottery and find the one person in the whole place who will spill the beans. “Watch for anyone wearing tight skirts, low-cut tops, or heels way too high for comfort.”
After several older looking single ladies and a few single men exit the building, a gaggle of chicks walks out giggling and holding onto each other’s arms. They fit my profile to a T, probably in their late twenties or early thirties and definitely dressed for picking up guys. They’re the perfect age and profile to have jobs that include gossiping. Awesome.
I grab Alissa’s arm in excitement and shake it back and forth as I hop on my toes. “It’s them!” I whisper-squeal. “It’s them!”
“See you at The Pit!” one of them says loudly to a youngish guy in a suit walking out after them. His tie is loose and the top button of his shirt undone.
He waves sloppily in their general direction. “Yeah.” He’s too busy texting to do more than that.
“Bingo,” I say, calming myself and narrowing my eyes at the girls so I can take in more details. They all pile into an SUV together. It’s black with four doors but too far away for me to see much else like the make or model.
I push Alissa ahead of me, around the side of the car. “Get in, get in,” I say, all excited that my plan is working out so far. Success is almost within my grasp, I can practically feel it.
“No need to rush me,” she says, getting my hands off her back by turning sideways. “We know where they’re going. You heard them, right? The Pit.”
“Yeah, but what if they change their minds? Come on, we don’t want to lose them.” I open the door and pull the seat forward so she can get in. It would probably be nicer to let her sit in the front, but there’s no way in hell I’m not sitting next to Mick. Besides, Colin is being such a dode in the back seat … no wonder Alissa was mostly comatose on the way over. He’s about as much fun as a wart right now. Maybe he can put her to sleep again.
“What’s the deal?” Mick asks.
“They’re going to The Pit,” I say, unable to keep my breath from coming too quickly. I feel like I just ran two miles.
“Where’s that? It’s not around here. We didn’t see any bars called The Pit,” he says, frowning in the rearview mirror at his brother.
“So?” I buckle my seatbelt. “Come on, what are you waiting for? We can look it up on my phone if you really want to, or we could just follow them and go there and find out first-hand.”
“Isn’t there something closer?” Mick asks. “Why would they go so far away?”
“How am I supposed to know?” I wave at his keys. “Come on, come on. We’re losing time here. They’re in that black SUV over there that’s leaving the parking lot.”
Mick turns the engine over and reverses out of the space. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” he says, staring out the front windshield.
“Shush,” I say, my eyes glued to the SUV. “You’ve had a bad feeling since before we even started this thing.” The SUV is going really fast, and I watch the speed gauge on Mick’s car nervously as it continues to climb. “Careful,” I say. “I don’t want to get pulled over. It’ll ruin everything.”
“The Pit is like ten miles from here,” says Alissa, looking at her phone. “I have the phone number. Do you want me to call and get directions?”
“No,” I wave her off. I pat Mick’s shoulder. “Just drive. Follow the car and we’ll get there.”
Alissa puts her phone into her backpack and rest its on the seat between her and Colin. He glances down at it and then at her before staring out the window again.
I shake my head at them. They’re so uncomfortable in each other’s presence it’s almost funny. Even seven hours in a car together hasn’t done anything to fix it; in fact, it seems worse.
I turn around and let that stupid stuff fall out of my mind. With every mile that slides by, I’m feeling pretty full of myself and supremely confident. We are so going to make this happen and save Teagan’s ass!
I’m the queen of badassery all the way up until we pull into the driveway behind the SUV and see the sign on the outside of the giant building.
“What the …” I stare at is as we cruise by, my mouth hanging open in surprise.
Colin leans forward and smiles for the first time all day. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Let’s go do us some recon.”
He’s out the door before I’ve even touched the handle of mine, pushing the seat forward and smashing Mick against the steering wheel during his escape.
Mick looks over at me as his face is leaning on the horn
cover. “Any other great ideas?” he asks.
I refuse to answer. I have a plan to put into action, and I’m not going to let anything like a silly old strip club keep me from getting this job done.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ALISSA AND I WAIT TEN minutes in the car before following the path already laid by Mick and Colin. We don’t want anyone inside to know we’re together, thinking one of us might get lucky if we find a lonely soul inside just waiting for someone to unload all their unhappy work feelings on. There may also be some reticence on their part over the whole issue of walking in the front doors of a strip club next to an obviously pregnant girl. She didn’t look any more excited about it than they did.
“Maybe you should wait in the car,” I offer, feeling a little bit sorry for her.
“Heck no. I’m not going to sit out here with all the creeps and perverts while you’re in there getting all the glory.”
“Glory? Are you kidding me?” All my pity disappears. Poof. Gone.
She shakes her head, chagrined “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just … I want to help. And I can’t help by steaming up the inside of Mick’s windows.”
I don’t like the way that sounds, so I take her by the hand and pull her along with me. “Fine. Come on then. Let’s get this over with.” I really wish I’d worn something sexier. Something tells me I’m going to stick out almost as much as Alissa will.
“What are we going to do exactly?” she asks, for the first time not sounding so sure of herself.
“We’re going to go in there, strike up conversations with people who work at the software company, and find out what we can about Teagan’s father. Simple corporate espionage, no big deal.”
“Okay.” Alissa hesitates as we arrive at the front door. It’s painted bright red and we can hear music beats pumping out from behind it. “But how do we do that?” she asks.
“I have no idea. I figured I’d just wait until inspiration struck.”
She takes a deep breath. “Okay. So here’s hoping inspiration strikes us both, then.” She squeezes my hand and then lets it go.
I take the door handle and pull, trying not to cringe as the sounds of stripper music and the smells of sour spilled alcohol wash over us.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
IT’S MOSTLY DARK INSIDE, FLASHING lights of every color occasionally lighting up a corner or a table. The stage is empty and the only thing visible on it is a pole. There’s a spotlight above it, shining down, reflecting off its metal surface.
“Wow,” says Alissa, “so this is what a strip club looks like.” She nods as her eyes scan the room.
“IDs, ladies?” says a man off to my right.
I glance over and find a really old man sitting on a stool. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep. His very sad mustache droops almost as much as his eyes do. A very round pot belly completes his très sexy look.
We walk over and produce our driver’s licenses. He hands them back and gestures to the inside of the club. “Enjoy yourselves. Hands off the girls. Well drinks are half price until ten.”
I swallow the sour spit that suddenly appears on my tongue.
“Ew. Like we’d feel up a stripper,” Alissa says. “Do girls even do that?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea. Maybe.” I look around the room for Colin and Mick but can’t see far enough into the space to see much of anything.
“Let’s go to the bar,” Alissa says. “I need a juice or something. I think my blood sugar is low.”
I glare at her as I hesitate. “Are you serious? Are you having a medical issue right now? Right in the middle of our recon mission?”
“No, I’m not having a medical problem. I’m having a thirst problem. And I’m hungry. I’m eating for two, you know. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime.”
Instead of making a scene and pointing out how many times I tried to talk her out of coming with us, I bring her over to the bar. A semi-hot guy with too much muscle for my taste and a leather vest that would have been better left in the eighties pours me a beer and Alissa an orange juice.
“Yuck. It’s concentrated,” she says, her face scrunched up and her nostrils going out sideways.
I can’t help but smile. “Did you seriously expect a strip club to serve you fresh-squeezed orange juice?”
She stares down into the glass. “I guess not.”
I take a sip of my beer and look around the room again. There are dark corners all over the place, several created by strategically-placed booths and walls between them. I can only imagine what’s going on in them since the only thing I can see clearly from where I’m standing is the stage and a few tables around it. I’m about to suggest we cruise the floor when the lights blink on and off and then a voice comes out over some speakers somewhere.
“Gentlemen! Ladies! Get your seat in the front row because we have a special treat for you tonight. All the way from Orlando, Florida … put your hands together for our special guest dancer Kiki!” Music blares out of the speakers next, mostly beats and some techno rhythm. I think it’s a song from Nine Inch Nails, but I can’t be sure; it’s been re-mixed or something.
I can’t not look at the stage at this point. I don’t even know who this chick is, but I want to see what all the fuss is about. The seats around the pole are already full in seconds and guys are standing around behind them, pulling money out of their wallets as they get ready to pay out for the hootchie.
“Oooo, it’s a show,” says Alissa, sipping her orange juice through a tiny bar straw. “I’ve never seen one of these before.”
A guy nearby glances back and then does a double-take when he sees her belly. She winks at him and he turns around quickly.
I laugh. “Well played, pregnant lady. Well-played.”
“Hey, some guys think pregnancy is sexy.” She shrugs, going back to making out with her straw.
“I’m pretty sure no one in here does,” I say, scoffing at the very idea. I wonder if pregnancy can make a women clinically insane. I know for a fact it at least makes them delusional.
A woman appears on stage and the music becomes more recognizable. Yeah. Definitely Nine Inch Nails. She’s wearing a business suit outfit with a very short pencil skirt and pearls around her neck. She even has big, black-framed glasses on. I think she’s supposed to look like a conservative librarian of some sort, but there’s no way she could pull that off. She’s way too tall, way too pretty, and way, way too sexy. I feel like a toad in comparison. I nervously look around the room for Mick. If he sees her anywhere near me, I’m done for.
The first words of the song come out of the speakers: You let me violate you.
“Oh my god,” Alissa says. “She is amazing. Do you see her? She hasn’t even taken her clothes off yet, and look … they’re giving her money!”
“Come on,” I say, taking her by the elbow and dragging her down the bar. “Let’s go find some people to talk to.” She’s calling way too much attention to us the way she’s pointing.
I get to the end of the bar and stop when I see a table mostly around the corner from a wall that lies between us and the far end of the club. The girls from that office we were waiting outside of are all there, sitting around a few tables pushed together. At that same table are faces I recognize. Mick and Colin. And they’re both smiling and laughing and holding mugs of beer.
My lips pinch together like I just bit into a lemon.
“Oh, goody. They’re doing recon,” says Alissa leaning into me and yelling in my ear. “Now we can just watch the show.” She turns back around to face the stage. “Can you see that Kiki girl? Those guys are too tall! They’re blocking my view!” Several of the tall view-blockers in front of us turn around, because it’s impossible to not hear her. One of them doesn’t turn back after realizing she’s pregnant. He sees her belly and smiles. It’s beyond creepy.
I put my arm over Alissa’s shoulder, pretending to be jealous or something. I use my best eyebrow moves on him, signaling that he needs to
just move along.
It doesn’t work. His smile gets bigger.
“That guy is staring at us,” Alissa says. She steps closer to me. Now we’re touching rib to rib, hip to hip.
“Yeah, no shit. Creeper alert.”
I can almost see the gears grinding away in his head. As he turns more fully around, ready to make his move, I shake my head. It’s the least I can do to give him advance warning. Anyone with a brain would see my signal and stop or continue past us, pretending like he wasn’t going to come over and talk to us. But not this guy. Mister Brainless stops right in front of Alissa and puts his hand out.
I grab his wrist before he makes it all the way to her belly. “Don’t even thing about touching her, dude.”
He frowns, but lets his hand drop. “You’re pregnant, huh?” he asks, taking a swig of beer from his bottle. He’s got a really old-looking black heavy metal t-shirt on and saggy jeans. His stomach has seen way too many beers over his lifetime of approximately thirty years.
“Yes, I am. You’re very observant,” she says, her sarcasm hiding beneath a polite exterior.
“It looks good on you.” He nods, letting his eyes roam from her face down to her belly then lower.
“Ew, God, get a life,” I say, pulling her away a little.
Her feet stick in place and I find my arm slipping off.
“Thank you,” she says, smiling genuinely now. “That’s very sweet of you to say, even though I know it’s not true.”
I roll my eyes. Jesus H Christ on a friggin sesame seed bun, she’s feeling flattered by a prego-perv. What’s next? A marriage proposal?
He nods his head with his lower lip stuck out in appreciation. “Oh, I mean it, all right. You’re beautiful. Stunning. Your face is glowing. You’re going to be a great mom, I can tell.” His hand comes out for another touch and Alissa doesn’t act like she’s going to stop him.