I unclip my plaid skirt from the hanger and hold it up to my waist. It hangs down to my knees, but if I cut the hem off at the thigh, I’d look just like those sexy schoolgirls. It takes me an hour to wrestle my hair into braids, slap on enough makeup so that I don’t look like I’m actually a schoolgirl, but rather a grown-up woman playing a role. I trim off the hem of the skirt and search for a top. I come up empty. My white polos are not going to look sexy enough, no matter how much fabric I chop off.
Another thought springs into my head. I raid Leka’s closet and return to my bedroom with a white button down. It’s too big, but that’s the whole idea. One of my unused lingerie items is a black lace see-through bra. I put that on and then shrug into Leka’s shirt.
I roll up the sleeves several times and then knot the front shirttails around my belly. Knee-high white socks and the stupid black pumps complete the outfit. The full-length mirror on the back of my door says I look cheap and slutty. I love it. I cover myself up with a long puffy coat and grab a roll full of cash. I don’t have a fake ID, so I’m going to have to flirt and buy my way in.
At the lobby desk, the night doorman, Pete, eyes me suspiciously. “Do you need a taxi Ms. Moore?”
“Nope. I’m going to the drugstore. I forgot I was getting my period and my bathroom looks like a crime scene. There are so many clots—”
“Okay. Just wondering. Have a nice evening,” Pete says with a wave of his hand. The poor guy looks ready to throw up.
I skip out delightedly and hail a taxi a block away.
Once downtown, I shrug out of my coat, leaving it in the back of the cab. “Give it to your wife or your girlfriend. I barely wore it,” I tell the surprised driver.
He nods happily and speeds away.
The Dungeon turns out to be a popular place, or so the long line of people suggests. A handful of bouncers mill about the front door behind a short velvet rope. They’re checking IDs. I wonder if there’s a backdoor I could slip through.
“You lost, honey?” says a voice behind me.
I swing around to see an older man—probably in his late thirties—dressed in a dark suit and a dark shirt unbuttoned one fastening too far. Around his wrist is a heavy, expensive watch. Four men spread out behind him.
“No.” I wish I’d kept my coat.
The dark-haired man gives me a thorough once-over. “How old are you?”
I stiffen. “Old enough.”
“Sure you are,” he says quietly. “Come with me. I’ll get you in.” He curves an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to his side. “What did you say your name was?”
We both know I hadn’t said any such thing. Warning bells are ringing wildly in my head. “Actually, I’m waiting for my girlfriend. We’re going to mass tonight.”
“I can give you a holy communion,” the man jokes. “It won’t be round, though. It’ll be long and thick.”
Three of his four men laugh loud and long.
“I suggest you let me go,” I tell him. “I’m not the kind of girl to play around with.”
“Really?” he drawls. “Because you’re playing dress up and that’s exactly the kind of girl I like.”
The door opens and a blast of sound hits us. “Cesaro, the VIP room is all set up—”
Leka pulls up short and his jaw drops. I want to sink into the ground. I know what he’s thinking. Worse, I’ve played into his fears—that the city’s dangers had finally gotten to me. The thing is, though, at least I’m in a public place. There are the bouncers at the door and the people in the line. If I make a scene, this guy is bound to get scared off.
“Hi Leka,” I say, trying to be proactive. I move out from under the man’s arms.
“What in the fuck are you doing here?”
“You two know each other?” The man, Cesaro, waves a finger between us.
“Yeah. She’s going home. Aren’t you?”
“Yes.” This isn’t the place to argue. “I’m going home.”
“No. Stay. We’re going to have some fun.” Cesaro reaches for me again, but Leka darts forward, moving me out of the way.
“Sorry. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Leka snaps his fingers. A young, pretty man hurries forward. “Mason, take Cesaro and his men to the VIP room. Get them whatever they want. You—” Leka’s fingers curl into my arm. “You’re coming with me.”
Those are the last words he says to me until we arrive home.
“Of all the idiotic, childish things you could’ve come up with, this takes the cake!” Leka roars the moment I cross over our threshold. He must’ve been saving it up.