I narrowed my eyes at him, “It’s a show?”
His laugh was deep and open, it was doing strange things to my insides, especially since I suspected he was laughing at me. My stomach fluttered with a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension. I narrowed my eyes at him, trying to ignore my body’s continuing hysterics; “It’s still disconcerting. I mean, would you want one of those cages in your house?”
He continued to grin at my incredulousness and answered, “Not with the monkey in it.”
“The man or the primate?” I countered.
“Neither.” his gaze narrowed, mimicking mine, and he leaned still closer.
I swallowed unevenly and half croaked, “But, you would want the woman?”
“Not that woman.” his voice was so low and I almost didn’t hear his response, his eyes moved from mine and traveled over my hair, forehead, nose, cheeks, then remained on my lips for longer than I felt was necessary... or appropriate... or whatever word adequately conveyed my discomfort at that moment.
“What do you need?” The bartender’s polite query sounded from my left which, to my dual relief and disappointment, caused Quinn to move his attention from my lips.
“Hey David, please put whatever these two are having tonight on my account.” Quinn said.
David shook his head slowly, his eyes flickering upward then back to Quinn, “I can’t do that, Mr. Sullivan.”
Quinn frowned, “Why not?”
“Someone else already volunteered to cover their tab.” the bartender grimaced, his shoulders stiffening.
“Who?” Quinn asked.
David’s voice was tinged with uncertainty as he responded, “I can’t tell you that.”
The bartender’s response surprised Quinn, I could tell by the narrowing of his eyes. I saw the muscle tick at his jaw before he pressed in a low voice, “Yes you can.”
I turned to Elizabeth but she was distracted by her pager which, I didn’t notice until that moment, must have been going off. I gave her a questioning glance as I listened to Quinn and David the bartender’s discussion.
I heard David sigh, “Alright, listen, I’ll tell you but don’t look at them, ok? They’ve been really great with the tips.”
“Who is it?” Quinn didn’t raise his voice but his tone clearly betrayed impatience.
“It’s the guys on the second floor, don’t look up there, the ones in the Canopy room.” David sighed again.
I sensed, rather than saw, Quinn step closer to me as I suppressed my urge to look up to the previously unnoticed second floor; I wondered where the ‘Canopy room’ was. Before I could give this much thought, I felt a shock as Quinn placed his hand on my arm above the elbow and turned me to face him.
His gaze was no longer warm and friendly; in fact it almost looked hostile as he addressed me, “You need to leave.”
His touch, his closeness, the intensity of his stare all made my insides feel like lava. I couldn’t understand my erratic and completely unintentional reactions to him; it was like I was someone else, some daft dimwit.
I resolved to pull myself together and opened my mouth to respond but, before I could, Elizabeth chimed in from behind me,
“Yeah, actually, we do need to go.” She lifted her pager up, stepping to my side, and gave me an apologetic frown, “I just got paged. They need me to go in. I’m sorry, Janie.”
I looked between Elizabeth and Quinn, a confused frown securely in place, “Wait- why do I need to go?”
Quinn’s hand moved down my bare arm, causing me to immediately shiver, and engulfed my hand, his fingers linking through mine; he tugged impatiently and began leading me toward the entrance as he spoke,
“Because your friend is leaving and it’s not safe to be in a club like this, looking like you look, by yourself.”
“But-” I sputtered, trying to understand what was happening and the meaning of his words, but my body was still achingly sentient, focusing on where his hand held mine, and my mind was decidedly distracted. Again I looked to Elizabeth for help but she was already some distance behind us and I wasn’t certain she could hear our conversation. He wasn’t moving particularly fast so we walked side-by-side holding hands.
Finally I said, “What’s wrong with how I look? And aren’t I safe with you?” my skipping record of stream of consciousness questions seemed to be on play again.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eyes and hesitated a moment before speaking, as though he were reluctantly about to give away a secret, “Not necessarily-”
“Can’t I just stay here-”
He withdrew his hand from mine and placed it on my back, pressing me forward, as he answered, “No. You can’t.” his firm strength at the base of my spine reminded me of how he’d escorted me to the basement on my worst day ever and, despite myself, I began to feel aggravated. My annoyance spiked further when he added, “Someone like you shouldn't be in here anyway.”