Diner Impossible, page 13
A hush fell over the room. “Shit, why didn’t I think of that?” Dale asked.
“I’ll get on it,” Ax said. “Good thinking, Rose.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Listen, Ma, Roxy, and I have to go. We’re hitting a club tonight. Want to come?”
“But of course,” he said.
I drew Ma and Roxy aside. “Janelle’s kid-free for the night and wants to go with us.”
Brian, who’d been lingering on the fringes of our confab, grinned at Roxy. “What club is that?”
She popped her gum. “Club Saturn.”
“Saturn? Sounds like the perfect place for Klingons.” He stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-shattering whistle. “KAWs, shall we invade a planet called Club Saturn?”
They grunted in unison.
Chapter 16
When I picked up Janelle, she stepped out of her duplex in a shiny blue pantsuit that showcased her gargantuan knockers. Long, skinny braids brushed her lavish ass and her glimmering blue nail polish matched the liquid metal material of her outfit.
She climbed into the back seat next to Roxy. “Hey.”
I swiveled to get a good look at her. Her blue eyeliner made her brown eyes seem huge and her cocoa-colored skin was perfection. “You look amazing. Très glamorous.”
“Mm hmm. I know. I’ve been waiting forever to wear this outfit.” Then she glanced over at Roxy, skewed her head to one side, and curled her upper lip. “Tariq’s an asshole for letting you go, girl. I think we can all agree on that. When he tripped out of his house this morning, he was met with four slashed tires and since he’d just bought brand new rims, his cash flow is low. He wound up taking the bus. You know anything about that?”
Roxy shrugged nonchalantly and gave a slow blink. “Maybe.”
Janelle held up her hand for a high five. “Good girl. I know he’s my cousin and all, but you got to hit a man where it hurts.”
Roxy and I were going to have to have another talk about moving on. Preferably of her own free will and without court ordered assistance.
“Let’s roll,” Janelle said. “I need to get my freak on and my drink on.”
“Me, too,” Ma said. “Wish I had a snazzy outfit like that.”
I drove south and headed downtown. Club Saturn was situated in the middle of eleven other bars. Pub crawlers littered the sidewalks and occasionally staggered out into the street. I took it slow and easy, dropped Ma and Janelle off at the entrance, then circled the block a few times to find a decent parking spot. For all Ma’s talk of shaking what her mama gave her, I had horrible visions of her busting a hip or wrenching a knee.
As I fed the meter, Roxy, still wearing her Victorian mourning mini dress, hopped out of the car and ran a hand over her skirt. “Wish I’d had time to change into something more festive.”
I tossed my coat in the trunk before strolling next to her on the sidewalk. “You look great. But seriously, Rox, you slashed Tariq’s tires? And you didn’t even mention it?”
She wagged a finger at me. “See? I knew you’d disapprove.”
I stopped and stared at her. “Of course I disapprove. You need to grieve, not vandalize.”
Hands on her hips, she sniffed and showed me her profile, her eyes gazing up at the starry sky. “I called him last night. Another girl answered his phone.”
I tugged on her hand, sandwiched it between mine. “I’m sorry.”
“I thought he loved me, Rose. He said he did. Why do men lie?”
“I don’t know.”
She pulled her hand from mine. “Has Sullivan said it?”
Touchy subject. One I didn’t want to talk about. I just shook my head.
“Then I’m sorry, too.” She swallowed and took a deep breath, then resumed walking. “So,” she finally asked, “what do you think of Brian?”
I threw a glance in her direction. “Klingon Brian? The horny one?”
“Yeah, he’s kind of cute out of his battle gear.”
I kept my opinion of rebound relationships to myself. Tariq hurt her badly. Klek the Perv was interested and present. He’d probably suffice until someone worthy came along. “He’s okay.”
“I wonder if Klingons do it nastier,” she said.
“If they do, I never want to hear about it.”
At the front of the club, we met up with a cluster of KAWs. Ax leaned against the brick wall and tapped away on his phone. Brian fell into step beside Roxy, his eyes all over her like itch on a bad rash. Since it was a Sunday night, we had a short wait time to the front of the line.
When we reached the entrance, a burly bouncer scowled at their garb and shook his head. “Name.”
One of the KAWs stepped forward. “I am Korax, of the house of Seeth,” he growled.
The bouncer closed his eyes for a second. “Not you, dipshit, her.” He tipped his bald head at me. “Name.”
“Rose.”
“Strickland?” he asked, glancing down at a clipboard. “Yep.”
“They with you?” He pointed his pen at the KAWs.
“Yes?”
He gave a weary sigh. “Go on in. No cover charge. And the manager’s waiting for you.”
As we walked into the club, Roxy nudged my arm. “What the hell was that about?”
“Sullivan bought this place today.”
She nodded. “Dating the boss has its privileges.”
Oh, yes it did. Except when I had to cancel.
Inside, painted swirls of space dust, moons, and planets glowed bright with neon color under the black light. Even the ceiling was a canopy of purple stars.
I glanced around the room and spied Ma and Janelle sitting at a table in front of the dance floor. They held cocktail glasses and swayed to the music. Roxy and I made our way over.
“Got you a drink, Rox. You’re sticking to soda, Rose.” Janelle nodded at a glass of cola.
I took a sip. “I have to meet up with the manager and ask him about Delia Cummings.”
“Who?” Janelle asked, jerking her head to the rhythm.
“Dead girl.”
She nodded. “I’m going to hang here. See that skinny ass white boy on the floor?”
I checked out the dancers and found him. He was cute, limber, and very thin. Janelle could crush his spine with one hand.
“Going to ask him to dance.” She slammed the rest of her drink and after pushing back her chair, shook her hips to the music as she danced over to him. She all but knocked down the petite brunette he’d been partnered with. Then Janelle busted out a few moves and shook her tits in Skinny Dude’s face. He practically motor-boated her right there in front of God and everyone.
“Who’s coming with me?” I asked.
Roxy sipped her drink, her eyes on Brian as he led the KAWs to our table. “I am.”
“Ma?”
She pushed at her glasses. “No, you girls go on. I’ll have the Klingons to keep me company.”
As the KAWs descended, Roxy and I left the table and crossed to the bar. I stopped in my tracks when I noticed the bartender was Jason, the non-talkative man we’d seen at Delia’s visitation that afternoon. Without his jacket, the tight, gray t-shirt showed off his bulging biceps and well-developed pecs.
Roxy realized I’d stopped and walked backward until she stood by my side. “What?”
“Look at the bartender.”
“Ah, Jason the Jerk. He looks good. Built nice and sturdy.”
I nudged her arm. “He’s not a truck.”
We proceeded forward and stationed ourselves in front of him. “What can I get you?”
I stared into his eyes, waiting for some sign of recognition. If not me, then Roxy. She was pretty damn unforgettable. Nothing.
“Well?” he asked. “I don’t have all night.” Mr. Personality’s tip jar held three one-dollar bills. He probably dropped them in himself.
Roxy wore a fierce frown. She was not used to being forgotten, nor did she take it well. “We met you today, loser. At Delia’s visitation. We talked to you beside the fake Oreo cookies. Ring a bell in that big, old, empty head of yours?”
He crossed his arms and matched her sneer with one of his own.
“I need to speak with Timothy,” I said. “He’s expecting me.” He tore his gaze from Roxy. “Just a second.” He sauntered behind the bar to a door painted black and hidden along the wall. When he poked his head back through it a moment later, he waved us onward.
Roxy and I followed him down a brightly lit hall where Jason flicked his bar rag toward the door. “Go on in.”
“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.
The office was functional, but not much to look at. A metal desk, three gray file cabinets, bland, industrial carpeting. And a man. Faded, thinning auburn hair and in his early fifties. He rolled back his chair and stood.
“Please, come in. Which one of you is Rose?”
I raised my hand. “I am.”
He smiled and gestured to the gray, nubby chairs in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat. The new owner, Mr. Sullivan—”
Roxy snorted. “Mr. Sullivan.”
Timothy’s eyebrows shot up and caused so many lines to appear on his forehead, he resembled one of the Klingons. “He requested that I answer any questions you may have. Are you a reporter or something?”
“No.” I drew my notebook from my bag. “But thanks for taking the time to see me.”
“Are you looking for a job, then?”
“No, I’m here to ask you about Delia Cummings.”
That seemed to throw him. His brown eyes grew wide, and his jaw became unhinged. “Delia?”
“Were you the manager when Delia Cummings was an employee?”
He rubbed the top of his head, ruffling the thin wisps. “Yeah. Are you a cop or something?”
Roxy swung her crossed leg. “Quit worrying about who she is and just answer the questions.” She was a little pissier than usual. Between Tariq’s rejection and that snotty bartender not recognizing her, she was having a really bad self-esteem day.
Timothy ran his hand back and forth across his desk blotter as he gazed at her with barely concealed irritation. Then with a blink, he focused on me. “Yes, I worked with Delia. I was sad to hear about what happened to her.”
“What can you tell me about her?” I asked, pen poised.
“It was years ago. This business has a high turnover rate. I don’t remember details.” His eyes shifted to one of the file cabinets.
“Bullshit,” Roxy said, smacking her gum. My thoughts exactly.
“You’re lying, Timothy. And Mr. Sullivan hates liars,” I said. I stared into his eyes with my best I-am-so-not-kidding look. The same one I used when I babysat my nephew, Scotty, and he tried to weasel out of bedtime.
Timothy sighed and raised his hands in the air, showing us how he’d pitted out his blue dress shirt. “Fine. I remember her. She was manipulative and cunning.”
“You were totally nailing her,” I accused.
His pale skin blushed all the way to the top of his receding hair line. “Yes. I was sleeping with her. She instigated it. And then she’d fill me in on what the other staff were getting up to.”
That Delia was a one trick pony. Sleep with the man in charge and get power through him. Then regurgitate everyone’s secrets.
“Who did she get fired?” Roxy asked.
“A waitress. I thought they were good friends until one day Delia got angry with the girl over something trivial and demanded she be fired, or else Delia would call the police.”
“The police?” I asked.
“The girl was selling weed to the customers. It happens. She was a damn good employee, but I couldn’t afford the police shutting us down over something so minor. I had to cut her loose.”
“When did Martin Mathers come into the picture?”
Tilting his head to the ceiling, Timothy took a deep breath before meeting my gaze. “He came in here, throwing money at her a couple years ago. He still comes in every once in a while and tries to impress the younger girls. Anyway, before I knew what happened, Delia up and quit. She was suddenly a personal assistant. Better hours, better pay.” He shrugged. “It’s not like we were serious or anything.”
“Had you heard from her lately?” I asked.
“Nope. Haven’t talked to her since the day she walked out of here.” He sniffed and rolled his chair back from the desk. “If we’re through…”
“We’re not,” I said. “Tell me about your bartender.”
“Jason? He’s okay. Has worked here on and off for the last three or four years. That’s not unusual. Like I said, employees come and go.”
“How well did he know Delia?” Roxy asked.
“I don’t know. They worked here at the same time, why?”
“He was at the funeral home today. What’s his last name?”
“Hall. And if he was at Delia’s funeral, it surprises me. I didn’t realize they were that close.”
“Can you bring him in here?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Roxy said, popping her gum. “We’ve got questions. And he’d better have answers.”
Oh boy.
Timothy squinted one eye. He didn’t like being bossed around. He had his own little kingdom going here, where he reigned with a freckly fist.
When he banged out of the room, Roxy stared up at the water-stained acoustic ceiling. “So did Sullivan buy this place just so you could question the manager?”
“I think that was probably a good excuse. You know he uses clubs like this for his gambling crap.”
“Maybe. But it was still kind of a sweet gesture. Sweet for Sullivan, I mean.”
The door opened and Jason Hall strode in. He crossed his arms and stood at the door, making us wrench our necks to look at him.
“What do you want?” he asked. I stood. “Have a seat.”
He lifted one shoulder and glanced away. “Don’t want to.”
“Sit down, dumbass,” Roxy said. “You’re going to answer some questions, or we’ll tell the new owner you’re being a dick.”
He gave her a once over. “Tell him whatever the hell you want.” He stormed out, slamming the door even louder than Timothy had.
“What a charmer.” I shoved my notebook in my bag and took a quick peek in Timothy’s desk drawers. I found out from the meds he had stashed there that he had heartburn and was possibly constipated. Nothing Delia-related, though.
When Timothy returned, he was pissed off. “What did you say to Jason? He just walked out and now I’m shorthanded.”
“He was uncooperative.” I hoisted my hobo bag up on my shoulder. “What do you know about him?”
Timothy shrugged. “Nothing about his personal life. He may not always be polite, but he shows up on time.”
“Do you have his home address?” I asked. That bartender knew something, I could feel it.
Timothy moved to his desk and tapped on his computer. Then he wrote on a sheet of paper, ripped it from the pad, and handed it to me. “When you see him, tell him to get his ass back to work.”
“Thanks for your time.”
“See ya, Tim,” Roxy said. In the bright hallway, she turned to me. “Think Timothy was telling us everything?”
“Maybe. He seemed pretty intimidated by Sullivan and pretty defensive about sleeping with an employee.”
She moved the wad of gum around in her mouth. “I’ve got news for you, Rose. Everyone’s intimidated by Sullivan. Everyone but you. And maybe he was just defensive about sleeping with a murdered employee.”
“Good point. We’re going to have to make time for a personal visit with Jason Hall.”
“What a treat.”
We walked to the door and strode into the club. The music had stopped and a loud wave of voices washed over the room. As we weaved back to our table, I halted at the sight before me. “Awww, crap.”
Roxy, who’d been fiddling with the lace on her bodice, glanced up. “What the hell?”
The middle of the dance floor had been cleared. To one side, the Klingons congregated, their stance aggressive, their narrowed eyes pinned on their opponents, ready to strike.
Across from the KAWs, the SPuRTs, dressed in Next Generation uniforms, stood at attention, arms at their sides, their chins angled toward the starry ceiling.
Two opposing forces, facing each other across the battlefield. Spectators circled round them.
“They’d better not start fighting,” I said. “But if they do, I’ll grab Ax. You get Ma and Janelle out of here.”
Roxy nodded. “Got it.”
Ma and Janelle shoved their way through the crowd to stand next to us.
Ma hiked up her elastic waist pants, her eyes bugging behind her frames. “The Fleeties found out we were here.”
I kept my eyes trained on them in case someone started throwing down. “How?”
“Brian posted a picture online and the SPuRTs showed up about ten minutes ago. They’re demanding satisfaction.”
“These are grown ass men and women. They shouldn’t be fighting like kids,” I said.
Janelle stopped sipping from her pink cocktail and leaned over. “Oh, they’re not gonna fight. This shit’s about to get real, y’all. The Trekkies are having themselves a motherfucker of a dance off.
Chapter 17
I closed my eyes for a moment. “Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah, toots. K’nera said it’s on like Donkey Con.”
“That’s Donkey Kong,” Roxy said.
Ma nodded. “This is so thrilling. The KAWs will dance with honor, just you watch.”
Quiet descended as one of the Klingons, Korax, if memory served, stomped to the middle of the floor, right beneath the disco ball. With his eyes on the SPuRTs, he raised one finger in the air to cue the DJ. A thumping base, scratching vinyl, and a blaring old school song by Run DMC provided the soundtrack to one of the most mindboggling scenes I’d ever witnessed.
With his legs jerking back and forth, his arms pumping at the elbow to propel him forward, Korax’s long, frizzy black wig breezed across his shoulders. He was actually performing The Roger Rabbit. Now this was exactly like a middle school dance.
