17. Messiah

She is dancing when I walk into the club.

My chest constricts as I see her. There are men standing around the stage, calling for her to take off the skimpy top she is wearing. It is unclear if she can even hear them over the sound of the music. The speakers are so loud that the bass line is beating against my eardrums. For a moment, I just watch her. She is wearing a new wig tonight. Long black hair drapes down her back as she swings around on the pole. She is wearing neon pink heels that glow against her pallid skin.

When she reaches for the string on her fishnet bikini top, I move from my place and head closer to the stage. The men howl louder as she tosses the piece of fabric aside. Beneath she is wearing holographic nipple covers that sparkle in the stage lights. Over the last few visits, she has started getting less and less snarky with me.

Rather than avoiding me until I gave her no choice but to speak, she has started drifting over to me as soon as I come into the room. Garcia has been keeping a closer eye on me, no doubt already aware of me trying to move in on her. Let him try to fucking keep me from her.

Sitting down at my usual place near the back wall, I grip my knee as I watch her dance. Money is tossed onto the stage at her feet. Reaching up, she jumps off the stage floor and spins around the pole, tipping her head back to give the men sitting close by a full view of her bare breasts.

She slides back to the floor, her fingers hooking into her thong as she gyrates her hips. The men hoot louder as she taunts them. More money is handed to her. This is her job. I have to keep that in mind even as I fight the urge to punch the teeth out of every man that is looking at her right now.

My resolve is held on a thin wire that snaps the moment she slides down onto her knees and crawls toward one man at the edge of the stage. He laughs as his friends cheer him on and he taunts her with a ten dollar bill as she moves closer. What sets me off is when she smiles. She fucking smiles for him.

All these days I have fought to get her to smile, and she does it so easily for some nobody waving money at her. Despite how loud the speakers are, the men don't seem to take notice when her song is over. Angel gathers the money that fell from her g-string and saunters off stage, giving the men a final wink before disappearing behind the curtain.

I waste no time standing from the table and pushing through the door to the back hall. A few girls stop and eye me as I stomp toward the dressing room. Most of them only roll their eyes and move on, probably thinking I am just making my way to Kevin's office. Turning the corner, I glance at the few girls sitting at the lit vanities in the dressing room. She isn't there. I check all the rooms until I reach the bathroom near the back door. When I push inside, I hear the sound of someone vomiting and freeze.

"Angel?" I call.

"What –" Her voice is cut off as she gags again.

I walk across the room to the stall where the retching is echoing from. She is kneeling over the toilet, taking gasping breaths between her gags.

"What is wrong?"

"Go –" she sucks in a breath, "away."

Leaning against the stall door, I debate rubbing her back or staying where I am so she has breathing room.

It takes her a few minutes before she calms down enough to stand. Her fingers are shaking as she wipes at her mouth. There isn't anything left in the bowl despite her body's attempt to purge.

"What is wrong?" I ask again.

She pushes past me without speaking and my fingers twitch with the need to reach out and touch her.

"Go away," she says again, turning on the sink.

"Are you sick?"

Cupping her hand under the water, she rinses her mouth and wipes the moisture from her lips before going for the door. My hand slams against the door so she can't leave.

"What the fuck?" she shouts.

"Are you sick?"

"Do you just repeat questions?" she glowers.

"You smiled at him."

"Who?"

"I don't know," I growl. "Whoever that fuck was waving money at you."

"It is my job."

"Why him? You never smile. Why did you smile at him?"

She pulls on the door but I lean my weight against it. "Move."

"Why did you smile at him?" I shout.

Her body curls in on itself as she steps away, her eyes go wide and full of fear as her chin starts to shake. Fuck.

"I just –" I push off the door, leaving the way open for her to bolt. "You never smile."

She takes another step back, her fingers gripping tightly to the edge of her skimpy top. Accepting my defeat, I also step back.

"I am sorry," I tell her. "Are you okay? Are you sick? Do you need anything?"

"Leave." Her voice is hoarse as she keeps her eyes moving steadily over my body.

Nodding, I swing the door open and step out without another word.

I am too frustrated to sit at home. Before I realize where I am driving to, I am in Garfield at the usual place where I park to watch Joe work. I slam the car into park and turn on the engine before reaching into the passenger seat for my smokes. My fingers shake as I light one and take a long drag, letting it out slowly.

"Fuck." I rest my head against the steering wheel.

Now I am regretting walking away from her. She might have needed something and there wasn't any fucks at the club that were going to help her. They all thought she was a bitch. She was to a degree, but there was a reason for it. Bitches who were bitches because of an attitude problem didn't act the way Angel did. She wanted to keep people away. Some guy had fucked with her before, maybe even hurt her. I don't have a real name to go on so I can't even look up her history. My brain is debating how much it would cost to get Kevin to at least give me her name. That was all I needed.

I wait for a while, my focus more on Angel than anything else around me. The end of my cigarette glows a bright red in the darkness of the car as I stare down the street. Joe is barely visible as he stands in the shadows beneath some trees lining a run down gas station parking lot. He will be heading home soon. There was no reason for me to come here.

Joe's shadowy figure moves through the haze of smoke filling my car. I roll the window down and narrow my eyes as I take note of someone approaching him. Just another junkie. Sometimes, I can't believe my sister and I were one of them once upon a time. Granted, I only ended up getting sober and moving on to kill people, but you know. Pick your poison. The junkie looks around as he approaches Joe, and I can see the glowing ember of a cigarette near Joe's mouth.

They talk for a second then move toward the dark alley behind the gas station. That isn't usual. My finger taps idly on the steering wheel as I consider what I want to do. There is no way that is the killer I am looking for. Is it? Then again, Holden had been mutilated in the middle of a park. Charles will be on my ass again if I fuck up.

I finish the last drag of my cigarette and flick it out the window as I reach for my gun. I make sure it is loaded and twist the silencer on the barrel before stuffing it into my coat and opening the car door.

The street is mostly empty. A car drives by now and then. The businesses along the strip are mostly closed. A car pulls up to one of the gas pumps just as I am crossing the parking lot. Joe and the junkie haven't appeared again.

I hear voices coming from the darkness as I creep closer. Leaning against the rough stone of the building, I keep my eye on the people in the area while I listen to the snippets of conversation that float to me from the dark alley. They are trying to make a deal.

The junkie's voice is too low. A fake tone. It is probably some kid trying to act more grown than they are. Like that is going to stop them from getting mugged or shot at this time of night in this neighborhood in this fucking city.

My body jolts from my place as I hear a scuffle start. I round the corner and see Joe dodging a blade as it slices through the air.

"Help!" he screams.

Fucking coward.

"Hey!" I shout, pulling my gun out.

Joe sees me and turns, running down the dark alley. He leaps over a low fence and disappears. I aim my gun toward the junkie. The killer.

"Drop it!" I shout.

I can't see the prick's face. It is almost too dark to even make out his body. He takes a step back, the knife still in his hands as he holds them up.

"I said fucking drop it!" I shout.

We are making too much noise. Someone is bound to notice. I take slow steps toward the man and he leans down as if to drop the knife. Just as I get to him and reach out to yank the hood from his head, he swings.

The knife slashes across my calf and a curse escapes as I stumble. The junkie leaps to his feet and runs back in the direction of the gas station's front door. Hobbling, I turn as fast as I can. His body disappears around the corner before I can aim my weapon. Fuck.