The club was dark, crowded. The smoky air and press of bodies wasstifling. She felt a hand grope her crotch as she pushed her way through.She grabbed it without a thought, bending the fingers back until sheheard a yelp over the din of the music. Her eyes met the bloodshot, pain-filledeyes of her molester.
“Oh shit, it’s you Skunk. Sorry,” Char yelled the apology over themusic and left him nursing sprained fingers.
She continued to scan the crowd, she knew he was here somewhere. Inthe sea of black leather though, it would be hard to find anyone. She wedgedher way through the tight mob, fending off more than a few wandering hands butwith less force than she had used on her hapless friend.
She paused for a moment and watched as a young woman climbed onto thebar to dance. Hips grinding, the girl began a strip tease for the growingcrowd of avaricious men gathering at her feet. The shirt came off, exposingfull round breasts encased in black satin. She continued swaying, herhands caressing her body but with no obvious move to continue her disrobing.Hands reached out, grabbed the girl and she disappeared into the tight group ofwatchers. The black satin bra emerged and was passed through the laughinggroup, followed by what Char recognized as the young woman’s skirt. Uglycrowd tonight. A bouncer appearedand roughly rescued the now-sobbing young woman. Char couldn’t help butthink it was a lesson learned with minimal injury. She moved away, stillsearching the crowd, the careless young woman all but forgotten.
She was about to give up and head for the door when she caught sightof unruly blond hair. Finally. She pushed through the undulating masses andapproached her target from behind. Reaching out, she grabbed the leather-clad arm roughly. The man jumped and whirled to face her, an angry sneer on thehandsome face.
The sneer disappeared and was seamlessly replaced with the familiar,oily smile. “Char, darling. Good to see you,” he yelled almost inaudibly.
She leaned close and yelled into his ear, “I gotta talk to you Bruce.Now. Okay?”
He nodded and followed as she led him back the way she had come. Shetook his hand and pulled him to the battered door of the women’s bathroom.
“Hang here. I’ll go clear out any bodies.”
She disappeared inside for a long moment, finally reappearing andgesturing him inside. With the door closed and locked, the music wasreduced to a bass rumble vibrating the graffitied walls.
Bruce leaned in close, placing his hands on her shoulders, tequilafumes in a powerful aura around him. “So baby, how come you dragged me in here?Trying to get me all to yourself?”
She looked into the bloodshot eyes and pinpoint pupils and forced a smile.”Uh huh. Why else?”
He grinned and tried to pull her to him but she was sober and quicker.
“Down, big fella,” she teased. “First I got a couple of things fromStella. You heard about Steve,” she managed to keep her voice steady.
“Yeah. Too bad. Found him in the john of that dim-sum place, didn’tthey?”
“Wednesday night,” she swallowed. “The service for him was today. Ididn’t see you there.”
“Naw. I don’t do funerals. They depress me.” He shrugged, looking bored.
“He came and saw you Wednesday, didn’t he?”
A paranoid glint sparked the bloodshot, blue eyes. “Maybe.”
“I thought you weren’t gonna sell him any more shit. You promisedStella. He was trying to get clean.”
“What of it? His money’s as good as anybody’s. And I gotta make alivin’. You ain’t blamin’ me cause he OD’d, are you?”
She could see the hostility rising in the perpetually suspicious andparanoid dealer. “No. We all choose our own path. Steve chose his, youchose yours and I’ve chosen mine. Some of us just have a little more free willand motivation than others.”
“That’s right, baby. Now, how ’bout you choose to shut up and let’sget busy.”
Another tight smile. “I told you, I got some stuff from Stella. Shewas cleaning out Steve’s desk and found a few things I knew were yours.”
She pulled a brown glass vial from her right pocket. Through the tintedglass it was easy to see it was nearly full of white powder.
“Thought you’d want this. Me and Stella don’t touch the stuff, so wethought we’d get it back to someone who’d appreciate it.”
The blonde eagerly took the stash and grinned. Unscrewing the lid, hetapped a small hit onto the tip of his little finger and snorted itwith obvious pleasure. “Right on baby. And Steve always had good taste.”
She could see eagerness growing in the wild eyes. She quickly wenton.”And here, I think this was yours,” she pulled a small semi-auto handgunfrom her other pocket. “I think you left it there a few months ago.”
“Hey baby, don’t shoot. I thought we were friends,” he stepped away,his tone light, but his eyes wary.
“Shit, Bruce, I wouldn’t shoot you,” she handed it to him grip first.”Here take it. I don’t want it.”
She watched as he slipped the clipless gun into his right jacketpocket. The brown vial found its way into the safety of his Levis. “Sonow, where were we?”
She let the unoriginal line pass without comment and took the collarof his jacket in both hands and pulled him against her. She kissed him hard,tasting tequila and cigarettes on his tongue. Rough hands went instantlyfor her breasts, kneading them with painful clumsiness. She unbuttoned hershirt, letting the greedy hands grope her without impediment. The handsfound the buttons of her jeans and managed to undo the fly with minimaleffort. She felt a hot, dry hand slip down between her legs, fingersbungling and unskilled. Bruce was breathing heavily, wafting alcoholvapors over her.
“Oh baby, come on, come on,” he mumbled hoarsely.
She let herself be pulled against his chest. Rubbing against his rock-hard crotch, she whispered, “Not here. Let’s go to my place. It’s justaround the corner.”
“I can’t wait. I want to fuck you now,” he complained.
“It’ll just take a minute, c’mon. I’ll make it so worth it.”
She pulled away and smiled up at him, buttoning first her jeans thenher shirt. Eyes less clouded by drugs and lust would have been alarmed at thedangerously predatory nature of her smile. Bruce saw nothing.
She knew he would follow, docile as a puppy, so without another wordshe left the bathroom and plunged back into the fray. She pulled Bruce alongby the hand, only releasing him as she neared the exit. She pushed aheadquickly, leaving him to negotiate his own way.
Bursting out into the bleak, rainy street, her eyes scanned quicklyfor signs that her hurried phone call from the bathroom had bore fruit. Thestreet was nearly deserted. There, an obscure, dark-colored sedan with twomen sitting motionless in the front seat. And leaning too casually againsta parked van, two more men looking studiously rumpled. She made her wayquickly across the street to the shelter of a darkened doorway and turnedto watch the participants of her orchestrated drama play their parts.
Bruce stumbled out into the night, his head pivoting as he searchedthenight for her. The two loitering men left their post against the van andapproached. In the quiet of the evening, she could hear a clear voice.
“Bruce Campbell? Portland Police, we’d like to talk to you.”
She could see the panic run through Bruce’s body. He tensed as ifready to run. The cops slowed their advance. Now was the moment she had waitedfor.
“He’s got a gun!” she yelled hoarsely from the shadows.
Both cops reached for their weapons. Bruce reacted as she had knownhe would. His right hand went to the jacket and came out with the empty .25.Both cops fired. The noise was deafening as it echoed off the brick andcement buildings. Bruce crumpled to ground like the bag of sewage that he was.
“Your path just came to the end of the line,” she muttered, a smileplaying across her lips before she slipped away into the drizzling night.
