The Way You Die Tonight (17 page)

‘Call yourself … Errol.'

‘Like Errol Flynn?'

‘Exactly. Or Tyrone,' she added, ‘after Tyrone Power. He's real dreamy.'

‘Tyrone,' I said. ‘I like that.'

Somebody called out, ‘Hey, waitress!'

‘I gotta go to work, Eddie,' Lily said. ‘Come back and see me, Jerry.'

‘Sure thing, Lily.'

As she flounced away he asked, ‘Do you think she likes me, Mr G.?'

‘I do, Jerry,' I said. ‘I think she likes you a lot.'

‘You wouldn't kid me, would you, Mr G.?'

‘No, Jerry,' I said. ‘I wouldn't ever kid you.'

A
t a quarter-to-midnight Jerry pulled the Caddy in to the curb down the street from the club.

‘Sure you don't want me to come in with you?' he asked.

‘No,' I said, ‘somebody might recognize you. Besides, it would look strange, the two of us going into a sex club together.'

‘Oh, yeah, right.'

‘Just keep your eyes on the front door,' I said. ‘If I get in trouble I'll try to find some way to let you know.'

‘We need a time limit, Mr G.'

‘Can't do that, Jerry,' I said, getting out of the car and leaning on the door as I closed it. ‘I don't have any idea how long it'll take me to find out something. Just be patient, big guy.'

‘Be careful, Mr G.'

‘Right.'

I walked down the block to the club, paid the cover charge and was allowed inside after the bouncers checked out my sports jacket and sweater. I figured a tie was optional for sex clubs.

‘Darling, there you are!'

I was surprised as a heavily made-up Lily came rushing toward me. She was wearing a dress that was very short, and very deeply cut – so much so that her breasts were threatening to spill out. She looked a helluva lot different than the other times I'd seen her at work in her uniform.

She kissed me deeply, pushing her tongue into my mouth, and then hugged me and said into my ear, ‘Go along … Tyrone.'

I struggled to remember her club name.

‘OK, boys, my date's here,' she said to the two bouncers.

‘OK, Sasha,' one of them said, opening an inner door, ‘have fun.'

‘Come on, Tyrone,' she said.

‘Yeah,' the other bouncer said, ‘have a good time, Tyrone.'

The two men laughed as they closed the door behind us.

‘What are you doing here?' I demanded.

‘Keep your voice down, Tyrone,' she hissed. ‘I'm here to help.'

‘Lily—'

‘Sasha!' she said. ‘My name's Sasha, remember?'

‘OK, Sasha. You have to leave.'

‘Leave?' she asked. ‘I haven't even gotten started, yet.'

‘Listen, Jerry is down the block in my Caddy,' I said. ‘He'll take you home.'

‘Oooh,' she said, ‘goin' home with Jerry. Now that appeals to me.'

‘It'll appeal to him, too.'

‘Really? What did he say?'

‘Never mind,' I said. I looked around. It was fairly dark, and there was a crush of bodies. ‘Give me the lay of the land before you leave.'

‘I'll do better than that,' she said, sliding her arm into mine. ‘I'll show you around, big boy.'

‘Lil— Sasha,' I said, ‘this isn't a game.'

‘Is this about Helen getting killed?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well,' she said. ‘I didn't know her, but she worked at the Sands. That makes her family, right?'

‘Right.'

‘So I'll give you a quick once around,' she said, ‘and then I'll go play with Jerry.'

‘All right,' I said. ‘Once around. And then you're gone.'

She kissed me on the cheek, then pulled me forward.

Lily/Sasha took me to the bar where we got drinks, and then showed me the various rooms that were available for use. Also some booths on the main floor that supplied a small bit of privacy for those who didn't want to use the rooms.

‘Oh,' she said, ‘one more thing. Let me show you the Jungle Room.'

‘OK, I've got the lay of the land, Sasha. Time for you to go.'

‘Sasha!'

We both turned to see who had said her name. A man came walking toward us, with a beautiful woman on each arm. Both were statuesque, one blonde, one brunette, both spilling out of their tops. And both very young. I wondered if they were showgirls, and where they worked.

‘Hello, Derek,' Sasha said. ‘Who are your friends?'

‘This is Petal,' he said, indicating the blonde, ‘and this is Storm.' Derek himself was well over six feet tall, rangy, handsome, wearing a black suit and no tie.

‘Meet my friend,' she said, ‘Tyrone.'

‘Tyrone,' Derek said, ‘haven't seen you here before.'

‘That's because it's my first time.'

‘Really?' Derek said. ‘That's so groovy, man. Hey, why not let my ladies show you a good time? Ladies?'

On cue they detached themselves from him and attached themselves to me, one on either side. I'm no prude. Under normal circumstances I would have welcomed their attention, but I wasn't there for sex games.

‘I'd love to take you up on that, Derek, man,' I said, gently disengaging the ladies, ‘but I think for my first time I'll stick with Sasha, here.'

‘Well, I can't blame you for that,' he said. ‘She'll show you a good time.'

I put my arm around Sasha and walked her away.

I later realized that ‘Derek' was really John Holmes, who went on to be a famous porn star named ‘Johnny Wadd', also known as ‘the Sultan of Smut'. In 1965 he was just starting to become involved in the industry. One of the girls with him was his girlfriend, Sandy Dempsey, who appeared in some of his movies with him.

‘This ain't the only time you're gonna get hit on, Eddie,' she said to me.

‘It's Tyrone,' I corrected her, ‘and I don't have time for this kind of nonsense tonight, so Sasha, don't you dare leave me alone.'

‘Don't worry, Tyrone,' she said, sliding her arm around my waist, ‘I'll protect you.'

I
didn't think I was putting Lily in any real danger. If anything, she was protecting me from being dragged into the Jungle Room by some sweet, wild young thing. Yeah, I said it.
Protecting me
.

Of course, I'm sure Danny felt the same way when he was there. He was just asking questions, and got bounced around the alley for it. If not for Jerry, he might have been seriously hurt.

In the end I decided that Sasha/Lily had to get out of there.

I walked her to the front door.

‘Are you sure?' she asked. ‘The women in here are gonna be on you like bears on honey.'

‘I'll fend for myself,' I said. ‘I want you in the car with Jerry, safe and sound.'

‘Yeah,' she said, with a lascivious grin, ‘but will Jerry be safe in the car with me?'

I patted her fanny and said, ‘Go.'

She went.

I turned and surveyed the room. I decided since I'd been introduced to Derek and his two honeys that maybe that was where I should be concentrating my efforts – even if it meant letting Petal and Storm violate my body.

I found them at the bar, the two ladies still hanging on their escort, who seemed to be working on a busty, older brunette.

‘Tyrone, my man!' he exclaimed when he saw me. ‘Get on in here, man. I want you to meet Jewel. Jewel, this is my friend Tyrone.'

‘Tyrone,' she said, turning the full wattage of her deep blue eyes on me. At thirty-five or six she was at least ten years older than Storm and Petal, but to my mind she trumped them, easily. She had packed a lot of curves into a tight fitting jumpsuit, and was obviously not wearing a bra. It was cold in the club and she was nipping out to beat the band.

‘Tyrone,' she said, running her hand up my arm and then placing it on my neck. Her skin was warm – no, hot. ‘What are your plans for the evening?'

‘How long have you been a member here?' I asked.

‘Years,' she said. ‘It's my second home.' She stroked my neck and my pulse quickened. I moved in closer, stood next to her at the bar. She pressed her hip against mine. I could feel the heat through our clothes.

‘So, you come here every week?' I asked.

‘Almost.' She wore blood red lipstick, licked her lips so that they glistened.

‘Were you here a week or so ago when something happened?'

‘You wanna talk about all the fuss?'

‘I'm curious,' I said.

‘Kinky,' she said. She took hold of my tie and pulled. ‘Come with me.'

‘Where?'

‘The talking room.'

She lied.

The talking room was not for talking.

I woke up the next morning with a headache and a vague recollection of the things we did in that room. Or rather, the things she did to me.

Like I said, I'm no prude. I've been with many women: showgirls, singers, dancers, hell, I had sex with Judith Campbell … with Ava Gardner. But the things that this girl did …

‘Mmmmm,' somebody next to me moaned.

I sat up in bed. Not my bed. Not my bedroom. I was wishing it wasn't my head.

‘Mmm,' she said again, and rolled over. As beautiful in the morning as she had been the night before in the club, even with the red lipstick gone – kissed off, I assumed, by me.

She opened her eyes, looked up and smiled at me. Her hair was fanned out on the pillow behind her.

‘Wow,' she said.

‘That's what I was thinking,' I said, although maybe for different reasons.

‘Tyrone, right?' she asked. ‘Your club name?'

‘Uh, yeah.'

‘What's your real name?'

I hesitated.

‘Hey,' she said, propping herself up on her elbow. One full breast popped into view from beneath the sheet, like a big, pink-tipped melon. ‘I've never brought anybody home from the club before. I think I deserve to know your name.'

‘Eddie,' I said, ‘it's Eddie … Gianelli.'

‘My real name is Emily,' she said, making a face. ‘I know, ordinary. That's why I picked Jewel.'

‘There's nothing ordinary about you, Emily,' I said. ‘As far as I can remember.'

‘And just how much do you remember, handsome?' she asked.

‘More now than a few minutes ago,' I said, ‘probably more later than now.'

She reached out and put her hand on my chest. The heat of her skin was familiar.

‘You hungry?'

I thought about it and said, with surprise, ‘I'm starving.'

‘Well,' she said, ‘I can cook.'

She got out of bed quickly, showing me acres of beautiful, smooth pale flesh as she grabbed a robe and pulled it on.

‘Bathroom's there,' she said, pointing. ‘Have a shower. We'll talk over breakfast.'

‘Talk?'

She turned at the door and looked at me, cocked her head. Without all the make-up and lipstick, she looked younger.

‘You want to know about the fight, right?'

‘We … didn't talk about that, yet?'

‘Honey,' she said, ‘we really haven't had much time for talking.'

I
soaked in Emily's shower, trying to shake the cobwebs loose and the night before back into focus. I remembered her tugging on my tie and taking me to the ‘talking room', and not much after that. Apparently we never got around to talking about what had happened at the club, and that was what I'd gone there for. So maybe over breakfast I could salvage the trip.

I put on the clothes I'd worn the night before, sans jacket, and went into the kitchen.

‘I hope you like burnt toast and burnt bacon,' she said, putting plates on the table.

I looked at the blackened toast and bacon and the wondrous, fluffy scrambled eggs that sat next to them.

‘Oh yeah,' she said, ‘I'm a whiz with eggs.'

‘That's OK,' I said. ‘I like bacon any way I can get it.'

We sat down across from each other and she said, ‘Don't be too nice to scrape the burnt part off that toast.'

‘Hey,' I said, ‘that's how I grew up eating toast.'

I used a butter knife to scrape off as much of the black as I could, and then covered it with butter. I really did like bacon any old way, and the eggs were like eating clouds.

And the coffee was hot.

While we ate I learned her name was Emily Marcus, and she was a legal secretary at a law firm in town, Denby & Sloane. I told her what I did and where, and she thought it was very exciting.

She ate with a hearty appetite. Jerry would have been proud.

‘OK,' she said, halfway through our plates, ‘so you wanted to know about the fight.'

‘I came to the club because I heard something had happened a week or so ago, and it involved Helen Simms.'

‘Who?'

‘Helen – you know, I don't know her club name.'

‘Well, there was a fight in the club,' she said, ‘and it did involve a woman.'

‘Describe her to me.'

She did. It was Helen to a T.

‘That's her,' I said. ‘What was the fight about?'

‘I saw and heard some of it. They were thrown off the club floor.'

‘By who?'

The bouncers.'

‘And taken where?'

‘The manager's office, I assumed.'

‘OK,' I asked, ‘what did you hear? What was the fight about?'

‘Well, it seemed to be about … drugs.'

‘Wait,' I said, ‘drugs?'

She nodded.

‘And Helen was in the fight?'

‘She was one of the two people fighting,' Emily said. ‘The other one was named Dante.'

‘Dante?'

She nodded. ‘Club name.'

‘What did he look like?'

‘Tall, sandy-haired, thirties.'

‘Is he a regular at the club?'

‘That was the first time I'd seen him.'