Page 26 of Stryker's Ruin
“Stryker, they moved the wedding to tomorrow. They’re sending me to Garvey’s nightclub then taking me to a hotel near the church. They said that you’ve left. Stryker, please answer. I’m afraid.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Come on. The car’s here,” Johnny calls out.
Shutting the phone off, I slip it back in my purse and glance at myself in the mirror. Stryker will come. He’ll find me. I know he will.
Johnny looks down at me when I walk out. He almost looks concerned. But I know better. I’m nothing.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Just do what they say. You have no choice. If you fight it, it just makes it harder.”
We exit into an alley behind the restaurant where a car waits, the guard already behind the wheel. Johnny ushers me into the backseat. “Remember what I said.”
Closing the door, he walks away.
The driver pulls out and takes us to another back alley. He parks the car, gets out and opens my door then directs me to a black door in the windowless brick building. Another man opens the door at his knock and smiles. “Hey, BadDaddy. Where you been? Heard you have something special for the boss tonight.”
My guard laughs and shoulder bumps the other guy. “Fresh meat.”
“You gonna stay and play?”
“Sugapop here?”
The other man gives his head a shake. “She ain’t nowhere anymore. Boss handled that one himself earlier today.”
“Ah naw, Jere. She was my favorite. What’d she do?”
“Loose lips around somebody she shouldn’t have.”
Frankie shakes his head. “I’m supposed to hang and take this one back to the hotel. I’ll just sit at the bar for a while.”
How do they know each other? They talk like old friends. The O’Kelleys and Camassas are supposed to be enemies. That’s what this marriage is about.
The doorman Jere, eyes me up and down and shakes his head. “Follow me, Prissy. The boss is waiting.”
He leads us through a hall and down a flight of stairs that opens into a dimly lit room. A pulsing beat throbs in the background and a large bar with stools is straight ahead. Instead of tables there are low padded benches in varying shapes andsizes. On the one closest to us, there’s a couple kissing. Three people are talking and some others are smoking at the next bench. As I walk past, I’m hit by the strange scent of their cigarette. Frankie brushes past me and heads to the bar. I go to follow, and the other man grabs my shoulder. “Boss is back here.”
He leads me past the bar down a hallway, through a curtained entrance to another short hall and a set of double doors. Opening one side he gives me a push inside and closes it behind me.
Garvey is across the room. He’s only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair hangs loose and damp over his shoulders as if he’d just come from a shower. He stands at a side table pouring a drink. A larger round white leather couch with a backrest separates us.
He turns toward me and runs his gaze deliberately down then up my entire body, as he sips his drink. Another door I hadn’t noticed opens and two young women. dressed only in lace panties and heels stumble in.
Garvey rounds the couch and centers himself in the middle. Leaning back, he drapes his arms over the low back one hand carelessly holding his drink, and stretches his legs out on the cushion in front of him. I realize then it’s more a round bed than a couch.
The two women who look to be my age, kneel on the floor by his feet. He looks me up and down again before locking his gaze with mine. Having learned from Vince that holding a gaze can earn me a slapped face, I clasp my hands in front of me and study them.
“Meek little thing aren’t you. I can work with that. Tits are too small and so’s your ass but we can get implants for both to make you presentable.”
Being discussed like I’m livestock on the block and lacking in front of his staff humiliates and enrages me. I glance toward the two women beside him, mortified at their inspection. He’s just as vile as Vince. I glance down hoping Garvey can’t see the hate I feel for him.
“They say you’re smart. You speak how many languages?”
“Five fluently. I understand a couple others but don’t speak as well.”
“Russian?”
“Close to being fluent. I need someone to practice with.”
“That’s the best thing I’ve heard since this shit started. Did you listen in on dealings for Vince? Interpret for him at all?”