“In other words, set myself up as a target.”
“Unless you know where he lives. Then we go there and take him down. But I figure you don't know where he lives.”
I looked in my rearview mirror and saw Ranger's black BMW slide to the curb behind me about half a block away.
“How did you find me?” I asked.
“I was in the neighborhood. Saw you turn onto Chambers. Is that guy wearing rhinestones?”
“Yep.”
“Nice touch.”
“Okay, we'll go to Sugar's favorite hangouts. See what we can stir up.”
“I'm in the wind, babe.”
Whateve
r the hell that meant.
* * * * *
“I HAVE IT ALL mapped out,” Sally said, pulling into a small parking lot next to a downtown restaurant. “This is the first stop.”
I looked at the sign on the side of the building. DANTE'S INFERNO. Like, oh boy.
“Don't worry about the name,” Sally said. “It's just a restaurant. Serves spicy food. Sugar likes spicy food.”
The restaurant was basically one large room. Walls were decorated with faux frescoes depicting various scenes where satyrs and minotaurs frolicked in hell and other hot places. No Sugar.
Two men waved to Sally, and Sally waved back.
“Hey, dudes,” Sally said, moving through the room to their table. “I'm looking for Sugar. Don't suppose you've seen him tonight?”
“Sorry,” they said. “Haven't seen Sugar all week.”
After Dante's we did a full circuit of bars and restaurants with no luck.
“I know we're out here doing this looking for Sugar thing,” Sally finally said, “but the truth is I'd crap in my pants if he all of a sudden popped up. I mean, he's crazy. He could, like, fucking Bic me.”
I was trying not to think about it. I was telling myself Ranger was out there . . . somewhere. And I was trying to be careful, staying alert and on guard, always looking, ready to react. I thought if Sugar wanted to get in my face and slash me to ribbons, I'd stand a chance. If he just wanted to get rid of me, he could probably do it. Hard to avoid a bullet from a man who thinks he has nothing left to lose.
The sun had set and dusk had settled around us, not doing much for my nervous stomach. Too many shadows now. Sally had known someone in almost every place we'd visited. No one had admitted to having seen Sugar, but that didn't mean it was true. The gay community was protective of its own, and Sugar was well liked. My hope was that someone had been lying and a phone call had been made that would send Sugar out prowling.
“We have many places left to try?” I asked Sally.
“A couple clubs. We'll save the Ballroom for last.”
“Would Sugar go out in drag?”
“Hard to say. Depends on his mood. He'd probably feel safer in drag. I know I always do. You put that makeup on, and it's watch out world!”
I could relate to that. My makeup always increases with my insecurity. In fact, at that very moment I had an overwhelming desire to crayon my lids with bright blue eye shadow.
We stopped in at the Strip, Mama Gouches, and Curly's. Only one place left. The Liberty Ballroom. Appropriately named. If you didn't have balls, you didn't want to go there. I figured I had balls when I needed them, so there was no problem.
I drove past the State Complex, which always felt weirdly deserted at night. Acres of unoccupied parking spaces, eerily lit by halogen light. Empty buildings with black glass windows, looking like the death star.