F³ The Game

            “That’s a low blow,” I said. “Sincerity? That’s low.”

            “It’s not an act, not a lure,” Nikki looked scandalized without letting her smile slip.

            “I know. That’s why it’s low.”

            I sighed, trying to think of a way out of it, but nothing sprung to mind.

F³ Verbal Dancing

“So you were paying attention,” Nikki’s smile threatened to become Cheshire-Cat sized. “I should not have doubted you.”

            “I made that up on the spot,” I said, still looking at her leg.

            “Droll, Matthew. So, you’ve already deduced it all.”

            “Nope.”

            She sighed, and the smiled faded, too.

            “Nikki, I really don’t care about any of the politics in this forsaken place. If you’ve got a scheme for taking over or working in women through the back door, probably by slowly replacing the girls with your own people to listen in and blackmail people, fine. I don’t care.”

            “You know, Matthew, if you had the ambition for politics, you would do well.”

            “Never been my thing.”

            “Nevertheless, I could use your talents in the future with my endeavor.”

            “Not interested.”

            “I can make you interested.”

            “No, you can’t.”

            “Hmm, I’ve known you long enough to know that is probably true. There is nothing I could do to entice you?”

            “Nothing comes to mind.”

            “The noble cause of dismantling a sexist and archaic institution?”

            “Eh.”

            “And though you are quite interested in my physical features, I know you would not succumb to those charms if offered.”

            “Well, I wouldn’t put it in those terms as I would never wish to offend—”

            “Enough of your verbal dancing regarding my physical prowess.” She sighed, again, not the playful sigh from before or the exasperated sigh, this one was as close to real emotion as she ever gave. “I had hoped that we could be involved in a long-term project together. We only seem to collaborate when it is life and death. Where is the fun, Matthew?”

            I lifted my eyes from her leg to stare into hers.

           

F³ Proxy

            “I’ll bite,” I said. “Why vote down women’s membership?”

            Now Nikki smiled. She rose smoothly, crossed the space and sat on the couch facing me. At some point, the zipper on her skirt had moved from just above the knee all the way up to her hip, showing off a very generous amount of leg.

            She arched her back as she leaned towards me, presenting a fabulous view of cleavage. It was completely intentional, she was trying to distract me. I didn’t know why, and until I did, I felt justified in looking where she wanted me to look. After all, she was taking the time and effort, it would be rude not to look.

            “On your way here, you ran into Theresa, did you not?”

            “Sure, I guess.”

            Nikki rolled her eyes. “You know, Dumpling, for a supposedly observant detective, you have difficulty with salient details.”

            “Yup,” I said, continuing to leer down Nikki’s blouse, letting my eyes slide to her leg.

            “Really, Matthew, must you be so obviously distracted?” Nikki chided.

            “Yup.”

            “The young redheaded woman.”

            “The one who decidedly didn’t fit the standard physical or behavioral model for Fairhaven Club. Decided glimmer of intelligence, but she’s not as good at hiding her contempt for people as she thinks. You let her wait on any of the big wigs and even they’ll figure it out eventually no matter how good she is at showing legs and cleavage.”

            Nikki blinked, then the smile went from simply flirtatious to genuinely fond.

F³ The Secret Smile

            The redhead guided me to the simply named room 8 not far away. The Fairhaven Club didn’t go in for fancy names for rooms like convention centers did, but the layout of the rooms had never quite made sense to me. For example, room 8 was next to rooms 7 and 11. I tried my best to think of a Vegas connection, but came up with nothing. If there was an actual plan, it wasn’t done logically.

            The redhead opened the door for me, and I slid in. Nikki was already there, dressed in a business suit. At least it would have been all business if the silk blouse didn’t plunge almost to her navel, and the skirt featured a zipper on one side that allowed a lot of leg to show.

            I’m sure she zips it down and buttons the jacket for actual business, though. This is for me, a pretty distraction. And it is, too.

            She gestured to the couch opposite of her chair, then to the antique bottle of scotch on the table. It was unopened, which was odd. An older scotch should breathe a little before drinking.

            “It went well?” she asked.

            The question itself was odd, from her. Nikki was the world’s greatest flirt, especially with me, and for something as small as a proxy vote to take that from her was enough for me to pay full attention to the meeting.

            “Ruffled feathers. Confusion,” I said.

            A small smile.

            Silence.

            It stretched on for minutes. I studied her without studying her, resting my eyes on the scotch bottle, but taking in everything about her. But nothing was out of place. She was immaculately made up and dressed, as always. She was more enigmatic, today, sure, but she had spells of that.

            “Right. So I’ll---”

            “Ask,” she cut me off.

            “I don’t care,” I said.

            “Ask, dumpling. For me?” That small smile grew, and I could tell she was proud of herself. She had a scheme, and she wanted to gloat about it.

            So do I appease her or piss her off?

  

F³ Maneuvers

            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.

F³ The Vote

            I sat in a circle of other men, most of whom had their needs tended to by statuesque women in tight, revealing clothing. One man sat at the “head” of the table with a gold-bound gavel. I was dressed in the expensive suit I had bought just for coming into the Fairhaven Club, which I only did when absolutely necessary.

            My membership had first been bought by Max Auron to conduct business, but had been perpetuated by Nikki, which was why I was here, today.

            Two ceremonial raps of the gavel by the chairman. “Let us come to the last order of business.” He added an unhealthy cough, reminding me of the age of everyone here.

            The white-haired and balding men grumbled among their ranks, while the younger crowd looked determined.

            “Once again, the issue has been raised whether to open membership to women. Having heard all discussions, I call the vote. Is there a second?”

            Several men quickly chimed in with their “Second.”

            “Point of order, Mr. Chairman.” The young man three down from me stood for emphasis. “I object to this vote being held in the absence of our sole female member, Ms. Alexander.”

            Grumbles from the old guard started to rise and the younger started speaking loudly, but the gavel cut off the uprising before it become a full-on shouting match.

            “Your objection is overruled Mr. Hansen. Mr. Allen, there,” he pointed at me with the gavel, “carries Ms. Alexander’s proxy.”

            That caught Hansen completely off-guard as he slapped the table for dramatic effect, then opened his mouth and stared at me, dumbfounded.

            “I withdraw my objection,” he finally got out.

            Beside me, one of the men nodded in my direction.

            “All in favor,” the chairman said.

            Hands went up on the side of the younger men, but not mine.

            The friendly nod before turned into a scowl.

            “All against?”

            I raised my hand.

            “Ayes 9, nays 10. The issue is denied,” the chairman announced, tapping the gavel. “You and your allies may bring the issue again according to the bylaws, Mr. Hansen.”

            Hansen and his allies stormed out as the older crowd passed congratulations among themselves.

            I shook my head and walked out, wanting to be away from the idiocy of the Fairhaven Club.