I had only
made it a couple dozen steps away from the super-secret-clubhouse room in the
Fairhaven Club before I felt a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off and spun
around, fingers pointing at the young man and a hard glare.
“I’m not
one of the staff you go groping, pal. Hands to yourself.”
He looked
shocked for a moment, then became indignant as his partners flanked him.
“See here,
sir. I shall be reporting to Ms. Alexander that you violated—”
“Shut it,”
I said, sick of the man’s speech pattern more than anything else.
“I voted
how I was instructed to vote. You wanna go ahead and squawk to Nikki, feel
free, but she’ll be more annoyed with you than me.” My eyes went back and forth
to the three of them, all puffed up with righteous indignation. “Probably as
annoyed.”
“As
instructed?” One of the men behind said.
“Why would
she . . . ?” Hansen began.
“We are
trying to---”
“I know what you’re trying to do,”
I broke in. “And it might be a good idea, but it’s not my call. I voted the way
she wanted me to.”
“I don’t believe you,” that was the
first guy again.
“Fine. Take it up with her,” I
began walking away.
“I shall have you thrown out of
this club!”
“Great! Suits me fine!” As I
stomped off, a buxom woman tried to take my arm, and I shied away from her.
You
know, if those guys really wanted equality, they’d give the staff real uniforms
and stop making them act like dolls.
The brunette gave up trying to
latch herself to me, but followed a step behind.
I was on my way to the all brass
escalator down to the exit when a slim redhead, unique for her lack of bust
size, extended a note to me.
Room
8, Dumpling.
The note was in Nikki’s neat hand,
and smelled vaguely of roses. I brought the note up to my nose. It was too
subtle to be perfume.
I lifted the note, ready to crumple
it in my hand, but didn’t. Crumpling it, dropping it, all would have been
useless gestures as either the redhead or brunette would scoop it up immediately.
I pocketed the note, but was still
prepared to leave the Club when I noticed that the redhead barred my way. She
stood directly in front of the escalator. She stood there with a defiant lift
to her chin that reminded me of Nikki.
She’s
one of Nikki’s. Either hired by her or paid directly by her. I could get by
her, but it would probably cause a scene and send stories buzzing through the
place. “Oh, did you hear what young Allen did with the staff?” The young idiots
would be scandalized and have me thrown out. The old boys would pat me on the
back and give me a cigar. And Nikki laughing the entire time.
“Lead the way,” I growled.
I
really hate the Fairhaven Club.