Live Girls (32 page)

Davey stepped through the doors and was greeted by a tall blond woman. She smiled. She had round, doelike blue eyes and a slightly crooked smile that looked warm and trusting.

“Hel
lo
, Mr. Owen,” she said in a low, smoky voice. “We were hoping you'd come in tonight. My name's Robbie. Can I get you a table?"

She had olive skin, straight white teeth, so friendly and warm. She spoke as if she knew him, had
expected
him.

Of course
, he thought.
I'm a member now.

Davey wondered what she'd given up for this life. A man who loved her? A family? How long had she been dead?

“Mr. Owen?"

Davey looked into her warm, heartbreaking eyes and suddenly conjured a vision of Robbie biting out a man's tongue in the middle of a long, deep kiss.

“Would you like a table?” she asked again.

“No. No, I'm looking for Shideh."

“Oh, she's not here yet. She won't be in until eleven-thirty."

“Is she at Live Girls?"

“Yes, I think so."

Davey nodded and started to turn, but felt Robbie's hand fall gently on his shoulder.

“Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink, Mr. Owen?” she asked.

The concern in her voice made Davey angry, made him want to jerk away from her hand and hurry out.

But his stomach was gurgling, his head ached, there was a burning beneath his skin that he knew would only get worse if he did not...

Robbie leaned toward him and looked at him with a sly smile, as if she knew a secret he had not told her. “You look like you could use a house special,” she said.

Davey's fists clenched at his sides. He didn't want to stay, he didn't want to be with
them
. But if he didn't have the drink, he would get what he needed elsewhere. From
someone
. He nodded with resignation.

“Yeah. I'll have a drink."

“Let me take your coat."

She stood behind him and slipped his coat off, folding it over her arm. “This way,” she said with a toss of her head.

He followed her into the swirling smoke and laughing crowd.

Robbie seated him at a table near the front, said she would be back in a moment, and went to get his drink.

Davey looked around him. The club looked different than it had the first time he'd come. The
people
looked different. He somehow knew which of them were members and which were not. Something about the way they moved, the way they smiled. Something in their eyes.

“Here you are,” Robbie said, returning with a tall glass of reddish-brown liquid. “I'll be back in a bit to check up on you.” She smiled again, gave him a wink, and walked away.

Davey touched the glass. It was chilled. He lifted it, touched it to his lips, and began to drink.

Casey opened her eyes and watched the dark room spin around her. She didn't know how long she'd been sleeping.

Something beneath her moved and she started to get up.

“No, no, it's okay,” Shideh whispered. “Lie back."

She was lying in Shideh's arms. Her head rested against the woman's breast.

Shideh stroked Casey's hair, leaned forward, and looked into her eyes. She smiled.

“How do you feel, love?” she asked softly.

Casey wasn't quite sure
how
she felt. The last thing she remembered was having her mouth on Shideh's throat, feeling Shideh's fingers inside her, getting horribly ill and being unable to breathe then fading away until ... nothing.

“Casey?” Shideh prompted gently. “It's all finished now. How do you
feel?
"

Casey gave it a few moments of careful thought, then looked up into those red eyes.

“I'm hungry,” she said.

Davey felt heavy as he stepped off the bus in Times Square. The drink had left a sour taste in his mouth. His hunger had calmed, but it had not gone away.

He swept the black curtain aside with his hand and stepped into Live Girls.

“Tokens,” he said at the cage, shoving his bill under the bars.

The hand reached out of the darkness. The fingers uncurled like a spider's legs and the coins dropped into Davey's palm.

Without hesitation, he went down the corridor, around the corner, and straight to the booth in which he always met Anya. He pulled the door open, stepped inside and locked it, then dropped all four tokens into the coin box.

The panel began to creep upward over the glass.

He saw her legs.

But they
weren't
her legs. They were different, shorter, the hips were rounder...

Davey began to feel sick.

He staggered backward a step and bumped the door. Reaching out his arms, he touched the glass as the panel rose further.

“Casey!” The name twisted itself out of his throat.

She was naked and touching herself; she looked stiff and uncomfortable. She lowered her eyes to Davey and her lips silently mouthed his name, as if she weren't sure it was he.

Davey's mind raced with questions: How long had she been here? What had they done to her?

Casey leaned toward him slowly and put her hands over his on the other side of the glass. She looked frightened and confused. Something about her eyes
—
a subtle, familiar coldness
—
told him exactly what had been done to her. And he knew it was his fault. He wanted to hold her, ask her to forgive him.

“I'm sorry,” he rasped, pressing his hands to the glass, “I'm so sorry."

“Davey, I'm scared,” she said, her voice muffled. “Take me out of here, Davey,
please
."

He began nodding his head quickly. “I will, Casey, I promise."

She leaned even closer.

“I'm so
hungry
, Davey."

“Oh God,” he breathed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the dirty glass. He'd done it again, he'd gotten her involved in
his
problem. But
this
time was going to be different,
this
time he was going to act. He was going to make the best of his situation, just as Walter Benedek had said.

This time, he was going to grab the short and curlies.

Davey lifted his head. It seemed there were two people looking at him through Casey's eyes: someone who was willing to kill to satisfy her hunger, and someone else who was desperately afraid.

“Casey, I'm going to get you out of here,” he said. “I don't know how, but I'm
going
to, I swear."

She nodded, sucking in her lower lip.

“Is there an exit in the back?” he asked. “Another way in or out?"

She frowned and shook her head. “I don't know. There's a window..."

“Where?"

“It's beneath the building, I think. A basement."

"Where?"

“I'm not sure, I don't know."

The panel started to close again.

“But Davey, you have to be careful because there are
—
"

“Which side of the building is it on?"

“I don't know, I don't
know!
"

The panel closed.

Casey peered through the opening below. “She's going to come back soon, Davey, to see if I've fed."

“I'll go. But I'm going to get you out,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word, as if to convince himself as much as Casey. “I promise."

“Be careful."

Davey reached through the opening and touched her face for just a moment. Her skin was cool.

Davey burst from the booth and rounded the corner on his way out.

“Davey!"

Anya was hurrying toward him in a gray robe. “Davey,” she said quietly, “I heard you were here. I'm supposed to be working but I
—
"

He backed her against the wall and whispered, “
Listen
to me. There's a friend of mine back there working a booth. A
good friend
of mine. I want to know who the fuck
—
"

She smiled. “What does it matter?"

“What do you
mean
, what does it matter?"

“Davey, we have to talk. There are things you need to know before you start feeding."

“You mean before I start
killing
people?” he snapped, leaning closer to her. “I've already done that
once
."

“But you have to be careful. This city is full of very sick people. Their blood can hurt you. There are things you have to look for."

“Like?"

“Junkies
—
there are chemicals that can be very damaging. People who are frail, sick; it takes
time
to know the signs, that's why you need my help."

“I don't
want
your help."

Davey pivoted away from her to leave, but she took his arm and pulled him back.

“I know what you're thinking, Davey. You think you can avoid hurting anyone by going to the club and drinking the specials.” She smiled. “Right?"

He said nothing.

“It won't work,” she whispered. “It will hold you for a while, but not long. You need the blood while it's still warm, Davey. You
need
to feel it pumping into your mouth."

His lips twitched and he took his eyes from hers.

“You don't have to kill, Davey. I know it's hard not to, at first. The hunger is always strongest when it's new. But you don't
have
to kill. You can take what you need without even being noticed. But it takes time to become disciplined. Time and help, help that I can give you. If you like, you could work at the club. Like Cedric. You can feed and make money and no one will be the wiser. That's why we have the club. And Live Girls. And if you work at the club
”—
she smiled and affectionately squeezed his arm
—“
we can be together more."

He jerked his arm from her and took a step back. “I may be
like
you,” he whispered, “but I'm not
one
of you.” He backed a few steps down the corridor, then spun around and went through the black curtain.

As he hurried out, he heard her say quietly, “You
still
have to feed, Davey."

Outside he became dizzy and weak. He ducked into the alley that ran along the side of Live Girls, leaned against the wall, and tried to steady himself. His stomach was beginning to clench; it felt as if it had been scraped clean. Tiny pincered insects seemed to skitter just beneath his skin.

He pressed his head back against the wall and groaned, realizing that Anya was right.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?"

Davey turned to his left and looked down at a raggedly dressed old man with a pencil-thin neck and pointy chin. He was squatting in the alley facing the wall, his hands hovering over a cracked-open window just above the ground. He wore a floppy-billed cap that looked like it had been dipped in mud. He smiled at Davey; the few teeth he had left were blackened with rot.

“You don't look tho good,” he said.

Davey stared at him, puzzled. The man rubbed his hands together as if over a fire.

“Oh.” The man laughed. He nodded his head toward the rectangular window and said, “There'th a furnathe down there. Keepth me warm."

Davey stared at the window. His hands were trembling and it was getting harder and harder to focus his thoughts, but the window was important. It was directly below Live Girls.

There's a window
...

“You ever go down there?” Davey said.

He shook his head slowly. “There'th
thingth
down there."

Davey tried hard to think. If he could get in unnoticed ... then what? He didn't just want to get Casey out, although that was most important. He wanted to hurt them.
Stop
them, if possible. But how?