“Club business,” she says with a shrug, her red lipstick and sugary sweet voice making her smile that much more frustrating to look at. “I don't often ask. Sometimes it's better not to know, even if they would tell you about it.” Janae shrugs as I steal a quick glance at her wedding ring. I can only guess she's married to someone in the club. I wonder what that's like?
No. No. No, I don't.
“Can I wait here for him to not be busy then?” I ask and Janae shrugs her tiny shoulders. I think she's even shorter and smaller than I am. It's not often I run into someone like that.
“Sure. I can put a note on his schedule if you want, maybe try his cell again?”
“That'd be great,” I say, putting my hands on my hips, not nearly as comfortable in my leather outfit in the bright light of day as I was last night. “Is it okay if I walk around? Maybe I'll run into him?”
“Of course,” Janae says. “I'll call you over the loud speaker if I hear back from him. All of the public areas are marked. There's even a small park around the corner from the auto shop for customers waiting on their vehicle. There's plenty of signage outside to help you find it if you want to take a look.” I nod and leave the office with a murmured thanks. Stupid Royal, and his stupid club with their perfect books and their paid taxes and their park.
I should be surprised that a bunch of burly dudes in leather with motorcycle fetishes have their own park, but I'm not, not really. I'm sure they use all of this as a facade for whatever illegal activity that it is they're involved in. I mean, come on. They have an auto body and service shop, a motorcycle repair business, and a showroom full of gleaming bikes, all located on the same piece of property as their clubhouse. They fix minivans for soccer mom and sports cars for trophy wives, and then turn around and sell their husbands ridiculously expensive motorcycles that they barely know how to drive. It's all legit and perfect and clean and welcoming.
I don't buy it for a second.
I wander around both service centers and then take Janae's advice and head towards the park. It's small, tucked behind the brick buildings and set against the backdrop of the coast, the only thing separating it from the sea a few hundred feet and a wooden fence with mesh inserts and warning signs. Further back from the cliff's edge, there's a playground surrounded by a red metal fence and decorated with wooden cutouts of fish and sharks and whales, all painted fantastical colors.
There are a few kids here, sliding down the yellow slide and dangling from the green monkey bars, their mothers chatting over a cup of coffee from the small café inside.
But there's no Royal.
I head back around the building, towards the clubhouse and Royal's red truck that I parked right out front. I don't know what the rules are for going inside, but I guess I'll find out. I mean, they let me in the other day, right?
I pause at the bottom of the steps, staring at the velvet rope that's strung across the top. Private—Do Not Enter. Hmm. I ignore it and head up anyway, ducking underneath the rope and moving inside the already open front door.
“Hello?” I call, glancing around for someone in a leather jacket that I can talk to about Royal. When I don't find anyone, I head down the main hall towards the common room where I had drinks just a few nights before.
Luckily, I manage to actually find someone in there.
“Lyric, right?” Fauna asks as I move up to the counter and lay my fingers against the marble top. Her blonde hair is streaked with blue today, but her outfit is fairly conservative—just a pair of blue denim jeans, a black tank and some silver bracelets on her right wrist. “Feel free to take a seat, and I'll pour you some more Johnnie Walker.” She winks at me and I feel a slight flush color my cheeks. Right. That just happened, didn't it? These past few days have felt like a lifetime. “I'm just doing inventory, but if you want to chat, I'm here.”
“Have you seen Royal?” I ask, cutting straight to the chase. Fauna pauses, looking me over like she's just realized what I'm wearing. “We were supposed to have a meeting today?” I don't bother telling her that I slept right through it—in the president's bed no less.
“He's at church,” Fauna says and whatever she sees on my face makes her laugh. “Not that kind of church, sweetheart.” She jerks her chin in the direction of the back door. “It's a meeting hall for the guys. A real boy's club. Anybody with a vagina's pretty much banned from going inside.”
I feel both my brows go up.
“Not allowed inside?” I try not to sound judgmental, but … I think it comes out like that anyway. Fauna shrugs, like it's something she doesn't quite care for but that she's learned to live with.