John faltered at the reaction until he felt Blay's hand land on the back of his neck. "Come on, John. Let's go."
John let himself get led inside, bracing for the onslaught of the club's vibe, ready to get lost in the crush of people. It was funny, though. As he looked around, everything seemed less overwhelming. Then again, he was measuring the crowd from a vantage point of about six-foot-seven.
Qhuinn looked around. "To the back. Where the hell is the back?"
"I thought you knew?" Blay said.
"Nah. Just didn't want to come off as an idiot—Wait, I think we have a winner." He nodded to a roped-off area that had two huge guys standing in front of it. "That just screams VIP. Ladies, shall we?"
Qhuinn walked over like he knew exactly what he was doing, said two words to the bouncer, and whaddaya know, the rope was down and the three of them were parading in.
Well, Blay and Qhuinn were parading. John was trying not to run into anyone else. He'd lucked out that the guy at the door had been some kind of pansy. Next time he'd probably manage to land on a hit man. Who was armed.
The VIP section had its own private bar and bartenders, and its waitresses were dressed like high-class strippers, showing a lot of skin as they went around on a lot of heel. The male patrons were all in suits, the women in expensive bits of nothing much. It was a fast, flashy crowd… that made John feel like a total poser.#p#分页标题#e#
There were banquettes on both sides of the room, three of which were open, and Qhuinn picked the one farthest back, in the corner.
"This is the best," he pronounced. "Next to the emergency exit. In the shadows."
There were two martini glasses on the tabletop, but they sat down anyway, and a waitress came over to clear. Blay and Qhuinn ordered beers. John passed, thinking he needed to stay tight tonight.
They'd been chilling for no less than five minutes, Blay and Qhuinn barely getting a start on their Coronas, when they heard a female voice say, "Hey, daddies."
All three of them looked up at the blond Wonder Woman standing in front of them. She was a knockout in a very Pam Anderson kind of way, more breast than anything else.
"Hey, baby," Qhuinn drawled. "What's your name?"
"I'm Sweet Charity." She put both hands on the table and leaned in, flashing her perfect chest and her tanning-salon skin and her gleaming, bleached teeth. "Want to know why?"
"Like I want my next breath."
She bent down a little farther. "Because I taste good and I'm a giver."
Qhuinn's tight smile was all about sex. "Then come over and sit by me—"
"Boys," came a deep voice.
Oh, Jesus. A huge guy had come up to their table, and John didn't think it was a good thing. With a beautiful black suit and a pair of hard amethyst eyes and a cropped mohawk, he looked like both a thug and a gentleman.
Okay, that was a vampire, John thought. He wasn't sure exactly how he knew, but he was sure of it and not just because of the size thing. The guy just gave off the same vibe as the Brothers did: power in check on a hair trigger.
"Charity, you mine elsewhere, feel me?" the male said.
The blonde seemed a little bummed as she pulled back from Qhuinn—who was looking pissed. Except then she trotted off and… well, shit, pulled the same routine two banquettes down.
As Qhuinn's expression lost some of its edge, the mohawked male bent down and said, "Yeah, she wasn't just after the pleasure of your company, big man. She's a pro. Most of the women you see walking around in this section are. So unless you want to pay for it, go out to the open-access area, pick up a few, and bring them back here, deal?" The guy smiled, flashing a tremendous set of fangs. "By the way, I own this place, so while you're here I'm responsible for your asses. Make my job easy and keep righteous." Before he turned away, he looked at John. "Zsadist said to say hello."
He left on that note, checking out everything and everybody on his way to an unmarked door in the back.
John wondered how the guy knew Z, and figured that no matter the connection, that mohawked brass-baller was definitely someone you wanted on your side.
Otherwise you might want to pick up a Kevlar bodysuit.
Or better yet, leave the country.
"Well," Qhuinn said, "that's an important tip. Shit."
"Um, yeah." Blay shifted in his seat as another blonde strolled by. "So… um, you want to head out to the floor?"
"Blay, you little slut." Qhuinn hustled out of the banquette. "Of course I do. John—"
I'm going to hang here, he signed. You know, save our table.
Qhuinn clapped him on the shoulder. "Fine. We'll bring something back from the buffet for you."