“Is she working this weekend?” he asked.
He was surprised when Del didn't respond, and even more so when he looked up to find the older man watching him carefully. A slow smile spread across his face, and Ari wasn't sure whether he should feel wary or intrigued.
“Yeah. Yeah, she's working this weekend. Tell you what – you wanna get some guaranteed one-on-one time with Saint Valentine and stay in my good graces? Come check her out tomorrow night.”
“What's happening tomorrow?” Ari asked. Del held his arms open wide and his smile turned into a grin.
“C'mon, Ari! This is Caché! It would be easier to ask what isn't happening on a Friday night,” he chuckled. “Be here around ... let's say eleven. That should be late enough.”
“Late enough for what? Is there -”
“Kid, get the fuck outta here before I call Serge back in. I got a busy day planned,” Del growled, and as if to emphasize his point, he spun away and picked up his phone.
Ari contemplated hanging the phone up, but decided he didn't really care. There must have been some sort of party, or event, happening that Friday. Wasn't it St. Patrick's Day? Or possibly nothing at all was happening – maybe Del was closing the club for a private party, and he'd have a good laugh watching Ari stand outside the door while no one answered the bell. Anything was possible, really.
So Ari simply turned and walked out of the office. Serge was actually waiting for him, and he led him back downstairs and out the rear exit. Ari's membership may have been reinstated, but apparently he wasn't going to be allowed all access to the club just yet.
Is she here? Right now? Hiding from me?
“You and bossman worked out some kind of deal, I expect,” Serge grumbled as they walked down the stairs to the alley.
“Yeah. I'll be coming in the front door from now on,” Ari informed him. The bouncer laughed loudly.
“Good luck with that. Big Lou will ...” Serge's voice died away when Ari flashed his membership card. He glared at the gold and at the lawyer before finally speaking again. “Val's gonna be fuckin' pissed.”
“I don't really care – she's not the owner,” Ari countered. “And neither are you. So I'd appreciate it if you kept your boss's private dealings private – especially from her.”
“I don't gotta do fuck all for you,” Serge said. Ari shrugged.
“Maybe not. But this isn't about her – this is between Del and I, and it's about allowing people like you and Valentine to keep their jobs,” Ari snapped. He was about to say more, but then stopped himself. Aggressive and heavy handed were his go-to responses, but they'd never worked particularly well on Valentine. They didn't seem to be working well, now. So he took a deep breath and calmed down. “Look. I'm not coming to create problems, alright? I'm not coming to hurt her. I promise. So just ... do me a favor this one time, and don't talk to her about me, alright? At least give me until tomorrow night. Please.”
God, it killed him. To have to say “please”, as if he had to beg Serge.
Ari missed Valentine and felt guilty about the way things had ended between them, but sometimes – just sometimes – he kind of wanted to strangle her for putting him in these positions.
“Alright,” Serge finally growled. “Till tomorrow. But after that, I ain't promising shit.”
“You're a peach, Serge,” Ari chuckled, then gave a small salute as he finally headed off down the alley.
Finally, headway. It had cost him a lot in personal favors – it wouldn't be much fun when they were called in, but that was okay. By that point in time, Valentine would be paying him back in her own way, too.
Just gotta stay the course.
3
She couldn't pinpoint why, but Valentine had a weird feeling about the night.
Of course, the entire club was done up in green, and she was wearing a sequined pair of emerald booty shorts with matching suspenders, but that really wasn't too far out of the normal for Caché – it was St. Patrick's Day.
Valentine had never been there for St. Patrick's Day before, and apparently it was a big deal at the night club. They held a Leprachaun Auction for charity, and apparently it was the stuff of legends. She didn't particularly feel like getting auctioned off to the highest bidder, but she'd called in sick for St. Valentine's Day – and that was after Del had planned an entire event around her. Guilt kept her from bailing on this holiday, too. Half the proceeds went to charity, and Del had promised to give her ten percent of whatever her final bid was, so she agreed to be the anchor for the event. The most popular hostess at Caché was guaranteed to fetch a high price, so how could she say no? She'd probably done stranger things during her time working for Del.
Yet still, Val had a weird feeling.
She was crawling up a ladder so she could sit on the swing in the giant gold bird cage – but that was also pretty par for the course, she'd been on the swing lots of times. She sat still on the thin seat while Serge clipped a thin belt around her waist. It was in turn secured with heavy duty, thin wires to the cage, ensuring that if she fell, she wouldn't go far. Then Serge was gone, and the ladder was pulled away. The cage was hoisted away from the floor until it was floating in the middle of the room.
In the room next door, she could hear bawdy laughter. Could hear shouts of excitement and groans of disappointment as people won – and lost – bids. Charice's voice came in above it all, introducing each new staff member as they were put up on the auction block. Apparently, Charice still held the record bid – over fifteen thousand dollars! Winning bids got a week of service from the participating “leprachauns”. Two years ago, Serge had been bought buy a ladies' book club, and they'd made him wear a thong and serve them mai tais. Angel had to clean a guy's house for a week straight. So who knew what Valentine had in store for her. It was all new to her, and she was a little nervous about the kind of people that would be bidding on her, but that still wasn't what had her feeling weird.
There was just something in the air that she couldn't put her finger on ...
“Everything's fine over there?” Val asked, nodding at the closed doors separating them from the auction. Serge nodded as he handed over the ladder to another person to take away.
“Going smooth – gonna be a record high this year, I think,” he said.
“What's the highest bid so far?”
“I think Angel went for around eleven grand or so. Never seen a green angel before,” he chuckled. Valentine frowned.
“Wow, eleven? Del said he expects me to top sixteen,” she mumbled, then she reached behind her and pulled a handled mirror out from the back of her shorts.
She gave her look a once over. She'd contemplated wearing an orange wig for the event, but that had just seemed like too much. She'd stuck with the shorts and suspenders, pairing them with a tight mesh top and a black sparkly bra, as well as a mini-top hat, which she'd pinned to the top of her head at a jaunty angle. She'd found some black tap shoes in a thrift shop, which she'd removed the taps from and then spray painted green. Rounding out the look were her fishnets, which she'd liberally covered in green rhinestones.