Authors: Julie Momyer
“Your kind?” he parroted. His brows lifted as if he knew her secret. He shook his dark mop of curls and moved down the counter, abandoning her for a more respectable customer. She spelled trouble and this man knew it.
Jaida poked the straw around in the lime green slush and settled in. From where she sat, the mirror provided a clear view of the entrance, and she went back to watching the door, watching for him.
Three days ago he called the agency and asked for her by name. He identified himself as Ray, but if the moniker he gave matched the name on his birth certificate it would be a first. No one ever revealed their true identity.
But she didn’t care about the name. It was what he brought to the table that counted. And Ray had promised her plenty. The question was: Would he deliver?
The door swept open behind her ushering in warm night air mingled with exhaust.
This was it.
Adrenaline surged and her heart beat hard against her ribcage. She scanned the mirror then stopped cold at the gray eyes staring back.
It wasn’t him.
She looked over her shoulder and verified what she already knew. There wasn’t one white male in here wearing a plain red ball cap and a navy blue Angel’s jacket.
He was over thirty minutes late. She couldn’t have missed him. She’d watched the door like a hawk. But even if he had slipped past her there was no way he could have missed her
.
She reached for her drink and took a large swallow. When she looked up again, the man with the gray eyes was still watching her. Mac was his name. She knew this because it was embroidered on the patch, stitched to his shirt pocket.
Was he a substitute? A stand-in? Eyeing him, she licked the salt from her lower lip and swallowed. Had Ray sent someone else to hand off the information?
Mac’s hands hung limp at his sides. They were empty. No folder or briefcase. A slight bulge pressed against the striped fabric of his shirt pocket. It was the right size, the right shape for a flash drive.
Their gazes reconnected and held; hers burning with the question:
Are you him?
But something other than recognition, a look she’d seen too many times tonight, flickered behind the glassy sheen of gray fastened on her. Jaida pressed a hand to her brow and ducked her head, a flush of embarrassment warming her face. This wasn’t what she was here for. How could she have misread his intentions?
She pushed her full glass aside and toyed with the strap of her purse. She should leave. She moved to stand when an arm grazed hers and she drew back. It was Mac. What did he want? She tensed, preparing to defend herself, but without a word he left his card beside her drink. And to her relief, he vanished like an apparition into the din and dusky light of the main floor.
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and settled back on the seat, rethinking her escape. If she were here for the indecent purposes these men supposed, she would be walking away with a big fat bankroll tonight. She smiled at the irony. It was a real smile this time.
Jaida spun on the stool and faced the door of Hank’s Tavern. The brown tint on the glass was bubbled and peeling like sunburned skin. When Ray named this location for a meeting place she assumed it was one of his haunts. But this place, these people, they just didn’t fit his grandiose sense of self. Not the one he portrayed over the phone.
Maybe he’d selected it randomly, or perhaps strategically. Whatever his reasons, the confidence she had in him was beginning to fade, apprehension trickling through her veins like a slow IV drip.
He’d called all the shots right down to the clothes she wore, satisfying what was a clear need for control. So where was he?
From the far right corner, red and yellow lights flashed and “Should I Stay or Should I Go” blared from the jukebox. Jaida sighed, rested her elbows on the edge of the bar and wondered the same thing.
She mouthed the words to the first line, her foot bobbing in time to the beat then glanced down at the pink dial on her watch. She would give Ray five more minutes.
“Hey, blue eyes.” Jaida frowned. It wasn’t Ray’s voice. The tenor standing beside her had an accent that was honeyed, a southerner who’d gone west.
She didn’t look up right away. Didn’t want to deal with another one. Maybe he would take the hint and move on.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” he asked.
“Is that what you want? To talk?” She looked up into his craggy suntanned face then down to the layers of gold chains tinkling against his chest. The wide lapels of his powder-blue polyester suit were edge-stitched in navy blue.
Was he for real?
He looked like a throwback from the seventies, a John Travolta wannabe.
“Maybe I do,” he said. He smoothed his hand over a thatch of matted brown chest hair, preening like a cat and grinning down at her as though he was a prize and she’d just won him.
Uh, not interested
.
He sipped his drink then planted himself on the stool beside her. She turned and gave him her back.
I just want to get out of here.
Startled, she shrieked and reared back, slapping at the hand that gripped her thigh. “Hands off!” she warned. What did he think he was doing?
Travolta grinned. “It was only one hand.” He held up the guilty hand as proof, making a clicking sound as though she were a horse. “And I always squeeze my apples before I buy. I ain’t payin’ for no woman ‘til I do the same.”
“What in the…?” The question vanished on her lips when she spotted the fifty-dollar bill crumpled on the counter. Her anger burned hotter at the sight.
Ray, Ray, Ray. What have you gotten me into?
Jaida sat up straighter. She was dressed the part. She might as well play it. “Do I look like I’m on clearance?” she snapped.
In one swift move, she snatched up the fifty and tucked it into the V-cut of her top. “I’m no apple, and fifty bucks is a considerable discount for the privilege of touching me.”
He threw his head back and downed the rest of his drink, the ice clanking in the empty tumbler when he slammed it down. His gaze dropped. “With legs like that, I guess another ten is in order.”
Thick head, dim wit, he still didn’t get it. “I. Am. Not. For. Sale.” She said it slow enough that even he would understand.
He laughed. “Honey, if you’re not for sale then why are you advertising?”
Her mouth tightened. That was it. She was done here. Why should she stick around just to be harassed? Jaida slid from the stool and reached for her purse.
There was one minute left before the five minutes expired, and her waiting around for the clock to tick off the last sixty seconds wasn’t going to change the fact that Ray was a no-show.
She brushed past her admirer and out the door, ignoring the curses that followed for taking off with his money.
“It’s over, Auggie,” she said. “I’m outside.” When her announcement didn’t bring him around the corner, she tapped the transmitter in her ear. Was it working?
She paced along the curb under the yellow haze of the streetlights, looking up one side of the street and down the other. A horn honked, a man yelled, and tires squealed on freshly paved asphalt, but Auggie was not behind the wheel.
She looked back the way she had come. The neon Corona sign lit up the darkened window. There was no movement at the door.
Yet.
She had about ten seconds to disappear before the guy inside was out here demanding more than a squeeze for that fifty.
She warded off the shudder that came on the heels of that ugly thought then jogged to the corner. For everyone else it was just another Friday night in Anaheim; for her, it was a poorly executed masquerade that she had no intention of repeating.
“Where are you?” She rounded the corner where Auggie was supposed to be waiting, but the curb was empty, not a car in sight. She’d been stood up.
Twice.
Why would he leave her here? Her grip tightened on her purse. If this was his idea of a joke…
An engine revved. “Need a ride?”
Jaida ignored the offer and kept walking.
The metallic gold four-door crept along beside her, the engine knocking under the hood. In her periphery she could see the dim glow from the dome light. It illuminated a crown of dark hair and little else.
“How much?” The driver’s voice carried through the open passenger window. She closed her eyes on a breath and walked faster.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
He sped up, just enough to keep tight with her stride and without breaking her own she reached inside her purse and wrapped her fingers around the can of pepper spray. If he tried anything, she would use it.
The car edged closer until the front tire mounted the curb with a scrape and a squeal, the fender bouncing when the car rolled back down onto the street. “What are you doing?” she yelled.
Jaida staggered sideways away from the rogue vehicle, ran a few steps, and ducked inside the first door that hadn’t been locked up for the night.
The hydraulic door fell closed behind her with a silent gasp, the scent of Asian cuisine filling her nostrils. She moved to the edge of the plate-glass window where the “Open” sign flickered, and watched the car idling at the curb.
“Can I help you?”
Jaida startled and turned at the woman’s voice. She forced a smile and waved a hand over her clothes. “Costume party,” she said. “I’m waiting on my ride.”
She did need a ride, but not in the back of a police cruiser. And from the look on the woman’s face that was where she was going to end up if she didn’t get out of here quick.
“We close in fifteen minutes,” she said before taking her leave and disappearing into the dining area. When Jaida turned back to the window, the car was gone.
Outside, the scent of fresh drizzle and wet concrete greeted her. She stood under the shelter of the awning and dialed her cell phone, the patter of raindrops pelting the canvas arc. No ring, no answer. Her call was instantly routed to Auggie’s voicemail.
You can’t trust anyone.
She shoved the phone back in her purse then slid her arms around herself and glared at the empty street. How was she supposed to get home now? The bus?
She walked to the bench at the corner, the heels of her stiletto boots wobbling on the uneven cement. She stopped when she realized her mistake. She couldn’t take the bus; she didn’t have any cash.
What was Auggie thinking leaving her like this? It was unprofessional. It was dangerous.
As though her last thought was premonitory, a hand came from behind and clamped around her waist, yanking her backward. She screamed and tried to pull free, but the hold tightened and lips were pressed against her ear.
“How ‘bout a little something for Daddy?”
The sound of his voice brought on a wave of rage. Jaida spun, shoving against the immovable chest. “You big jerk, you scared me to death.” She bent at the waist and pressed a hand to her heart. It was galloping behind her ribs like a herd of wild horses.
She glared up at him. “Where were you?”
Auggie laughed, his shaved head gleaming in the light of the street lamp. “I’ve been right behind you the whole time, chica.”
“Right behind me?” Her pulse pounded in her neck, and she was yelling at him now. “Why didn’t you show yourself when I came out of the bar?”
He reached for her arm and she pulled it away. They had a plan, and without a second thought he’d digressed from it.
“Chill out. I didn’t want to scare our guy off,
detective
. I was giving him space. If he was out there I wanted to see if he would follow you. You do want this don’t you?”
She bristled at his deliberate use of the word
detective.
What was he implying? That she wasn’t a professional?
Her eyes narrowed as she shot back, “I do want this, but I also want my backup to back me up.”
“Look, Jaida, I did my job. I was there for you.”
“Fine,” she said, “but this is the last time I do this. Next time you can go in drag.”
He draped his arm over her shoulder and this time she didn’t pull away. “I would love to, babe,” he said, “but I wouldn’t fool anyone with biceps like these.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
He pinched her arm, and she swatted his hand away. “Thug.”
Auggie pulled his keys from his pocket. “C’mon, let’s go get the car.”
J
aida
stood at the living room window nursing an iced tea, staring into the fog that swallowed up the whole of Newport Beach. In the distance, hazy yellow dots of light along the pier smoldered through the wall of white. It was the only thing visible beyond her patio.
Tonight played out like amateur night. If she had followed protocol and vetted Ray properly would it have turned out any differently? Auggie thought so. And he reminded her of that all the way back to the office. He said they would have known Ray was a fraud if she’d done her job right. But was he truly a fraud?