Chapter 11

After I left the Tavern of Terror, I decided to take a detour before hitting Leeds, so I took the pooches to the dog park where they ran, jumped, and barked up a storm.

I needed to clear my head and think about what I was going to say to my uncle while I pleaded for my life and that of Cooper's. Maybe Johnny's life, too, although I probably shouldn't press my luck.

But after seeing all those other dogs all decked out for spooky season, I was starting to feel like an inadequate dog mom so I took my boys and hightailed it to the nearest pet shop and outfitted them with enough Halloween bling to terrorize any dark alley.

Watson is strutting around in a vampire cape and a cute little bowtie, looking to suck the coos right out of anyone with eyeballs. And Spooky has donned something akin to a polka-dotted garter belt around his neck with enough ruffles to double as a petticoat. He's supposed to be a clown, but being the true clown he is, he chewed up the rainbow wig that came with it.

At least they look festive.

It's almost evening, but I don't have it in me to call it a day. Instead, I head to the only place that can cure all my ills, my Uncle Jimmy's strip club.

I figure if I'm going to toss and turn all night about the men he wants me to off, I may as well try to negotiate my way out of the assignments.

Who knows? Maybe he'll take the hits off the table and give me something I could really sink my teeth into—a candy bar.

As much as the month of October seems to revolve around death and horror, I'm in no mood to participate. But I'll never say no to candy.

I nudge open the door to the Red Satin Gentlemen's Club and am greeted by a flood of crimson. The walls, the floor, and even the ceiling glow in that sultry hue. The music is loud and suggestive, the girls are nearly naked and far past suggestive, and the stench of cologne emanating from the stables of men who have shown up with cash in hand reeks of midlife crisis and desperation.

Glittering Halloween decorations adorn every corner, from glowing pumpkins to cobweb-covered chandeliers.

Watson and Spooky trot at my heels, their tails wagging excitedly as they take in the spectacle. They do their best to charge the stage, barking and yipping up a storm as they strain their leashes to capacity just trying to get their furry little mitts on those dancing dolls.

They're such boys.

The stage is a riot of color and movement, with dancers in cheesy costumes gyrating to the music. There's a witch twirling around in a sparkling black dress, a vampire queen seductively swaying in nothing but a flowing cape, and even a naughty nurse teasing the men with her stethoscope.

It's dimly lit inside, save for the dizzying swirl of lights aimed at the buxom beauties on stage, but that doesn't stop me from seeing a couple of golden oldies scarfing down a platter of nachos as if it were their last meal.

Much to the dismay of my lusty pooches, I make a beeline for the golden oldies instead.

Those oldies would be none other than Aunt Cat and Carlotta, of course. They're perched at a table near the stage, their eyes glued to the crowd in front of them as they chat away and snack on the feast set before them.

"Fancy meeting you here," I say, plopping down and helping myself to a crisp tortilla chip smothered in orange goo. My personal favorite. "Why this place?" I give the side-eye to the bride of Frankenstein who's currently disrobing on stage one strip of linen at a time.

"What's better than dinner and a show?" Carlotta shoots back. "The men watch the girls and we watch the men. It's a win-win."

Aunt Cat nods. "And there's no better eye candy than a man waving money."

"That's right." Carlotta applauds at the thought. "And the fact they're shouting take it off doesn't hurt either. And after they've had a few beers, they start singing that song in our direction. That's when things get really interesting."

"Is that why you're fueling up on nachos?" I ask, diving back into the orange goo. "Building up your energy for later?"

"That and the fact Jimmy lets us eat for free." Aunt Cat nods.

"Wait, you get free food?" I balk. "But I'm family, too, and I don't have this perk."

In the least, I should get an employee discount.

"There's a reason." She wags a finger my way. "Face it, you'd eat here for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And after falling asleep in a corner once or twice, you'd probably move in and try to live rent-free."

"Free food and free rent? Why didn't I think of that?" My eyes grow wide just as a waitress with a set of bazingas the size of watermelons delivers a fresh plate of nachos. Poor timing on my part. I think those bazingas just tattooed themselves on the inside of my eyelids. "Never mind. I don't care to look at my own bazingas let alone a new set every twenty minutes."

Both Watson and Spooky give a bark in protest and I roll my eyes. It's clear they'd trade in my rental and the dog park for this haven of naughtiness.

Aunt Cat leans in. "So how's the assignment going?"

"It's complicated," I grunt. "I haven't made a move yet."

Carlotta raises a brow. "Why the hesitation? You've got the skills, the smarts, and the bullets. What's stopping you?"

"In a word? Consequences."

Aunt Cat scoffs. "Consequences, shmonsequences. You're living the dream, Effie. Taking out the trash and getting paid for it. That boyfriend of yours is just one stripper away from being a dirty, lying, soon-to-be ex. You get to cut him off at the cheating pass. What could be better?"

I shake my head. "It's a demented dream."

Carlotta tips her head my way. "But you've got to look out for number one. If your uncle says jump, you ask how high. That's the business you're in."

"Besides, we've all got our list of men we'd love to put in the crosshairs of a few bullets." Aunt Cat toasts me with a cheesy laden chip as she says it. "Remember that sleazy landlord who tried to hike up your rent last year? I bet you would have loved to pump him full of lead."

"True," I muse. "But he's not on my hit list."

She goes on. "And what about that slimy ex-boyfriend of yours? The one who cheated on you with your sister?"

"I remember," I groan at the thought. "Come to think of it, they're both lucky I didn't use them for target practice."

But for now, I'll just have to navigate the murky waters of love and duty, hoping both Cooper and I come out of it alive.

"Things are finally moving in the right direction for Cooper and me," I say. "And by right direction, I don't mean the cemetery. That man knows just what I want to hear, when I want to hear it."

"Eh," Carlotta grunts. "But does he know just what to do when you want it done? Now that might be worth keeping him out of a casket."

"We haven't got that far yet," I say. "But he did hint about doing things in the dark and I'm pretty sure he didn't mean while buried six feet under."

Aunt Cat waves me off. "The dark is overrated. Find yourself a man who isn't afraid to show his moves with the lights on."

"Yeah, but I'm more of a lights-off kind of a girl," I say. "You know, to keep the mystery alive." And keep the fact my bazingas are starting to take a road trip to my navel. A secret I'll take to the grave.

As if on cue, the lights and the music cut out as the entire facility is plunged into darkness.

Hey? Maybe the women here are thinking the same thing.

"Welcome to the dance of doom," a deep, disembodied voice warbles from the speakers and the crowd goes wild. I never said they were smart. "But beware—for the night is young, and the shadows hold a secret darker than the grave. And for some of you, this night might just be your last dance."

That's exactly what I'm afraid of.

Within seconds, red and pink lights swirl around the stage in spasms as the music kicks in again. And soon, a whole new group of women dressed as naughty princesses and frisky fairies trots onto the stage. Every last one of them is waving a sparkling wand that glows in the dark, and that's all it takes for Watson and Spooky to lose their furry little minds.

Their leashes slip from my grasp so abruptly I'm positive if I had wrapped them around my wrists I would have lost both hands.

The next thing I know, they're on stage and quickly snapped up by two of the dancers, gyrating and swinging their hips with the pups in tow.

Men flock their way as if the dogs themselves were the true siren song.

Money flies.

Men howl.

Dogs bark.

And the beer is flowing.

I'm starting to think I should demand my cut.

Soon, Watson and Spooky have enough bills tucked around their collars to send my future kids to college, and yet I know I won't see a dime.

It's nice to know someone in the family has the Midas touch when it comes to scraping up a dollar.

"Hey, do you think I could bust a naughty move like that?" I muse. "Those are my dogs. I should be raking in the big bucks," I say, shoving another cheese-filled chip into my piehole as I contemplate a career as a doggie dancer.

"Nah." Aunt Cat doesn't waste any time in killing my dreams. "If you were up there shaking your stuff, people might think you were having a medical issue. Face it, you might have the goods, but you don't have the moves. Those women are trained professionals. Do not try this at home."

For as long as I can remember, my rebellious spirit has had more to do with proving others wrong than it ever did with me wanting to fly in the face of authority.

I make a beeline for the stage and hop right on it before I can talk myself out of it, and then my hips are bucking, my chest is flapping, and I'm doing my best to give myself whiplash.

"Stop the show," one of the girls calls out and the house lights flick on, breaking the sultry spell as the music cuts out, killing the sultry mood.

The next thing I know, I'm being held down by four buxom beauties with their bazingas swinging like pendulums.

"Do we have a doctor in the house?" one of them shouts. "This woman is having a seizure!"

And just like that, my career as a dancer is over before it ever began.

Not even a cute little pooch could have saved me.

I guess I'd better stick to what I'm good at.

Scratch that.

I'd better stick to what I'm decidedly below average at.

Speaking of which, it's time to do what I came for—talk to Uncle Jimmy.