With A Twist(9)

“Need at least two… no preference on coloring. And most important, they need to be expendable. Simon’s getting buyers lined up.”

I nod sagely at him. By expendable, he means no one will miss them if they go missing. “Two in one month?”

“Nah… we’ll unload one within a few weeks and then hold onto the other for a month or so. At the price they’re generating, we don’t have to move as much stock as we did before.”

“Heard that,” I quip as I stand up from the stool. “Give me a few days and I’ll have them for you.”

Lance holds his fist out, and I bump it with mine. “You’re the man,” he says with a grin.

“You the man,” I joke back while pointing at him.

I gather my spreadsheet and tablet, making my way back toward the small office that I use. It’s really nothing more than a large broom closet, but when I was promoted to General Manager, Simon seemed to think I needed my own place to do my work.

It has a metal desk with peeling, brown faux wood on top and a rickety old chair behind it. And that’s pretty much all there is to my office besides a Playboy calendar hanging on my wall with a thumbtack, which I thought would lend credence to my overall scumbag cover.

Closing the door behind me, I sit down and let my shoulders sag with the weight that rests upon them. I just held a thirty-second conversation with a man about selling women to sex slavers, and for all Lance cares about this business, you would have thought we were discussing cattle. My stomach seems to be constantly pitching and turning from the sickness of my involvement and how deeply I’ve become immersed in this darkness.

Yeah… my full-fledged membership in the circle of trust came fortuitously last week, and by a sheer stroke of luck. Despite having worked at The Platinum Club for almost three and a half months, I still had not been able to find one piece of evidence tying Simon to the dancers’ disappearances. It was frustrating, and I was wondering at what point the task force was going to continue with this operation.

I had just begun to think that maybe we were barking up the wrong tree, when one night, just as we were closing the doors and shutting off the lights, two Alcohol Law Enforcement agents showed up. Flashing their credentials, they demanded entrance and then audience with the owner.

I walked back toward Simon’s office and gave a quick knock on his door before opening it up. It had become my habit to do that since he brought me in on his prostitution scheme, and rather than waiting for him to invite me in, I walked in boldly and with the hope I’d catch him doing something he shouldn’t.

It was my lucky night when I walked in.

Lance was holding Carla—one of the dancers who had just come off duty—in his arms while Simon was pulling a needle out of one of her veins. Carla’s eyes rolled back and her head lolled to the side.

Simon’s head whipped toward me, and his eyes seethed with anger. “Get the fuck out,” he barked.

“Sorry, Boss,” I hastily said as I stepped all the way in and closed the door behind me. “But ALE is out there… demanding to talk to you. They want to search the place.”

“Fuck,” Simon muttered and glanced at his watch. Lance shifted and adjusted Carla’s weight in his arms.

Simon’s eyes narrowed on me, and I let my gaze dart over to Lance and Carla before looking back at him.

“What can I do to help?” I asked boldly… helpfully… trying to calm my pulse. There was no doubt that I had just walked into the middle of an abduction, and my head was spinning over what to do.

He was sizing me up… I could tell. His eyes held me with keen inspection, and I held his stare with confidence and an eager look to please my master.

Simon strode across his office and got right in my face. “You fuck this up and you’re a dead man.”

“I won’t. Just tell me what to do,” I said confidently.

“Take Carla… put her in your car and drive. Don’t go too far but get to the outskirts of town. Be careful and don’t get stopped. I’ll call you when I’m ready for you to come back with her.”

I nodded quickly and stepped over to Lance, taking Carla from him and hauling her up over my shoulder. By the way her body rolled, I could tell she was passed out cold.

“Lance… I need you to get rid of the shit in my safe. No clue if they have a warrant but get it out of here. I’ll go stall ALE for a few minutes but be quick. And then call our buyer. Tell him there’s a delay, and we’ll deliver the package mostly likely in a few hours.”

I had no clue what kind of “shit” Simon was referring to in his safe, but I bet it was documentation about the slave sales he’d made.