3. Charlie

Chapter 3

Charlie

J ackson brought the black SUV to a stop across the street from Gentleman Jerry’s front doors. The two men gazed at the single-story white brick building. It had gold trim, a relatively plain gold sign with the name of the establishment on it, and no windows, as one would expect. It was in a declining part of town, surrounded by liquor stores, gambling parlors, marijuana dispensaries, and various buildings with metal bars or gates across their windows. The parking lot beside the building was half-full of cars.

“Looks like they’re doing a good business for a Tuesday afternoon,” Doc said. “Let me see the picture of Quinn Daily again. Maybe we’ll get lucky and see her working. I’d like to wrap this one up fast so her sister will schedule her surgery.”

Jackson handed the two pictures he had of her to Doc. The first was her driver’s license photo, which was nearly eight years old. The other was one Maeve had on her phone. Her sister Quinn was dressed for clubbing in a low-cut dress, heavy makeup, and her long strawberry-blonde hair sleekly straightened. She was a pretty girl, but in the second picture, she wore way too much makeup.

“I gave our approach some thought, and I think we should play it honest. We’re looking for her because of a family emergency,” Jackson said. He had the flyer with the drink specials and the eye peering through the four-leaf clover that Maeve insisted was her sister’s eye, in his hand.

“Works for me,” Doc said in his normal no-nonsense tone of voice. He didn’t voice his lack of enthusiasm to enter the club. He’d had more than enough of such establishments in his younger single days. He was now very happily married to an incredible woman, and they had a daughter who was the light of his life, something he never would have predicted.

The two men got out of the car and crossed the street. Jackson pushed through the first set of doors and then the second, stepping into an environment like every other strip club he’d ever been in. The lighting was low, lit by glowing red neon, the music high with a heavy bass, the women scantily clad, and the clientele male. Two dancers were on the stage.

“Pole dancers. How imaginative,” Doc said in Jackson’s ear, bringing a grin to his lips.

The two men took seats to the right of the stage, where they could view the entire main room. As Jackson scrutinized both of the young women on the stage, Doc’s gaze swept the room. Neither man saw anyone who they believed was Quinn.

A server approached in the Gentleman Jerry’s uniform, a gold string bikini top with a matching G-string bottom. Her makeup was heavily caked on, her hair big and curly. She would have been an attractive woman without all the makeup. Combined with most of her parts hanging out, the overall effect was what the club was going for.

“Hi, gents,” she greeted, moving in way closer to both men than required. “What can I get you? I offer a full menu.”

Jackson and Doc didn’t doubt that for a moment. Jackson pulled a twenty from his pocket and held it up. She leaned in closer, rubbing her breast against his arm as she reached for the bill. He held the flyer up in his other hand. “We’re looking for this girl. Her real name is Quinn, not sure what she may be going by.”

“Oh, sugar, I guarantee you I’ll show you a better time than her or any other girl in this place. What are you interested in? Or maybe you both want to share.”

“No, that wouldn’t be on our wish list,” Jackson said. She tried to take the twenty. Jackson kept a tight hold of it. “Quinn. This girl,” he repeated. “We’re here on behalf of her sister. There’s a family emergency. Please take a look at this other picture of her.”

Doc held up the picture of her all made up for a night out partying. “Her sister is sure that eye on the flyer is hers.”

The waitress’ gaze bounced between the two pictures. “Sorry, don’t know her.”

“Was it one of the girls who regularly work here that they used for this flyer?” Jackson asked.

She shrugged. “Look, do you want a drink or something?”

“Yeah, give us two beers. And we’re offering a larger finder’s fee to anyone who may know where Quinn is. Tell the other girls,” Jackson said. He released the twenty. “And send a couple more girls over.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, giving Jackson a pointed look.

“Really? You think I’m looking for company?”

Doc chuckled. “You wouldn’t be stupid enough to fuck up your life with Angel. What I meant was, do you really think any of the women who work here are going to be straight with us?”

“I’m hoping we can find one.”

A few minutes later two women strutted over, each one carrying a beer. Jackson and Doc each pulled a twenty from their wallets. They were practically straddled by the women as they handed them their bottle. They each quietly made the same request for information on Maeve’s sister before releasing the bill and sending the women away. Neither got an admission that they knew Quinn. They told them to tell the other girls and repeated the promise of a finder’s fee for viable info .

Shortly thereafter, a burly man from behind the bar approached them. Both men knew he was the bouncer, there to protect the girls and the establishment. But to sic the bouncer on them for asking about Quinn? That had to mean something.

“Gentlemen,” he said sternly as he reached their table. “I’m told you are interested in who the model was for our flyer.” He leaned over their table in what others would consider a threatening manner. It was clear his intention was to intimidate them.

“That’s right,” Jackson said, not backing down and showing no fear. “We’re private investigators hired by a young woman to find her sister, as there is a family emergency. She believes the model used for this flyer is her sister.”

He lifted the flyer from the table. “It’s an eye, for Christ’s sake. It could be anyone.”

“I’d know my sister’s eye if I saw it,” Doc said, staring the man down. “This is legit. And we checked our client out to be sure. Can you help us?”

“No, the model isn’t one of our girls. It was some rando-gig the owner booked her for, cash deal, got no info on her at all. Could be your girl’s sister or not. Either way, I got nothing for you. Now, if that’s all you wanted, finish up your beers and get out. Or stay and enjoy the show and companionship, if that’s all that’s on your mind. Got it?” He gave them one last stern look and then returned to the bar.

“Charming,” Doc said, watching his back as he walked away. “I’m not sure I believe him.”

“That makes two of us,” Jackson said.

They finished their beers, noticing that the girls gave their table a wide berth. No one was coming too close. As they were getting ready to leave, one of the girls who’d been dancing on stage passed by the table closer than needed. She discreetly dropped a napkin onto the table. The words ‘Private Room #4’ were written on it.

Both men knew that it could go one of two ways. Either she wanted to give them info with hopes of a payday, or someone else was waiting to question them further about why they were asking, and it wouldn’t be pleasant.

Doc stood first. “Let’s do this.”

The two men walked to the back corner and through the curtain beneath the ‘Private Rooms’ sign. The door to room number four was closed, as were all the others; ten in total, numbered in shiny gold signs. Jackson opened the door as Doc kept watch behind them.

There was a lone woman in the room, seated on a red leather couch. She was fully clothed. Jackson had not seen her in the main room. He cautiously stepped inside the room, scanning all of it to be sure no one was waiting to jump him. He pushed the door all the way open until it banged against the wall behind it. Doc came in behind him and closed the door.

“Hello,” Jackson greeted, gazing at the heavily made-up face of Quinn Daily. She looked a decade older than the pictures they had of her, and she looked harder. Life had taken a toll on her, and she hadn’t aged well.

“Quinn Daily,” Doc said. “Your sister, Maeve, hired us to find you.”

“So you say.” Her voice was raspy.

“Ciara is doing well. She’s a smart and happy child,” Jackson said. “But Maeve has a serious medical issue. She needs you to call her or go see her.”

“Maeve?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“Yes,” Jackson said. “I have her number in my phone. I could call her right now so you two could talk.”

“Can’t you just tell me what it is?” she asked. “I’m due back in L.A. on Monday. I’m just in for the St. Patrick’s Day weekend. I’m the guest headliner on the main stage.”

Jackson wasn’t sure if she was trying to impress them, but it sounded as though the news on her sister was an inconvenience. “I’m sure that’s some sort of big deal, but your sister and your daughter kind of need you.”

Quinn emitted an annoyed laugh. “Maeve made it clear she didn’t need or want anything from me when I signed the guardianship of Ciara over to her. Or didn’t she tell you that part of it? ‘Just go, Quinn. You’re worthless to us’. That’s what she said.”

“Things can change in a few years. I’m sure you’re not the same person now that you were then, and neither is Maeve,” Doc said. “The bottom line is that Maeve does need you now. And Ciara just might need her mother.”

“I’m not Ciara’s mother. Maeve is and always has been.” She shot to her feet and took a step towards them as she spoke, her voice elevated.

“You gave birth to her,” Jackson reminded her, though he had to agree with her. No, she was not Ciara’s mother, probably never really had been. She was nothing more than an egg donor and an embryo incubator. She clearly wasn’t a mother.

“Even that was more Maeve’s doing than mine. I was going to give the kid up for adoption, but Maeve was all ‘We can do this together!’ I think she just wanted to keep a piece of Blain.”

“Maeve could die, and Ciara would be put into the foster care system. Is that what you want?” Doc asked.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be the drama queen of the family. Not Maeve.”

“It’s a fact, not drama,” Doc said. “We checked out her story.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Quinn asked. For the first time, she looked like she cared.

“A triple A; aortic abdominal aneurism,” Doc answered. “And a big one. If it ruptures, she’ll bleed to death in a matter of minutes.”

Quinn gasped, the sound filling the room. “Can’t they operate?”

“Yes, but Maeve didn’t want to schedule the surgery until you were found. Just in case,” Jackson said.

“She’s an idiot. She knows how serious it is. It’s what killed our father.”

“And Ciara?” Doc asked.

Quinn shook her head. “Look, this is my life.” She waved her hands, motioning to the room. “The owner’s my boyfriend. I have maybe five years left before I’ll be considered too old, and I’ve taken steps to be on the management side of things when that happens. But until then I’m making bank and stashing it away. My lifestyle isn’t conducive to having a kid around. We all make our choices, right?”

Doc nodded. “So, you don’t foresee any point that you could or would again take custody of Ciara?”

“No. Even if Maeve died, I can’t raise her and, quite honestly, she’d be better off in anyone else’s custody than mine.”

“Would you be willing to let Maeve permanently adopt Ciara?” Jackson asked.

“Yes,” Quinn said without any thought needed. “But why is that necessary?”

“Who is Ciara’s father?” Jackson asked. “Maeve thinks it’s Blain Sullivan.”

“It could be. I counted back and was with him when I would have gotten pregnant.”

“Did you sleep with anyone else around that time?” Jackson pressed.

Quinn shrugged. “Probably. I mean, I usually did, but we wouldn’t have been sleeping,” she said before she laughed.

“Would you have any names for us?” Jackson asked.

“No, don’t have a clue,” she answered.

“Blain Sullivan was Maeve’s boyfriend,” Doc said.

“Don’t judge. It takes two to do the dirty, so he wasn’t an innocent bystander in it.”

“Even if you don’t plan to be there to support her, you need to call your sister,” Jackson said. “Would it be such a bad thing to be in contact with her?”

Quinn sighed loudly. “I suppose not. Just as long as she doesn’t try to guilt me into anything. I have my life. She has hers.”

Doc just shook his head. Her sister’s life was raising her daughter. And if Maeve didn’t survive the surgery, most likely he and his wife, Elizabeth, would be helping Jackson and Angel raise Ciara.

“Can you change your plans to at least be around when she has the surgery?” Doc asked. “Ciara can stay at my house while she’s in the hospital and recovers, but it would be nice for Maeve to have family there for her.”

“Fuck, I knew it. You’re a perv,” Quinn said. “Like ‘em young, huh?”

“My wife will take care of Ciara. We have a two-and-a-half-year-old and my wife babysits several other little ones,” Doc said gruffly.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Do you need Maeve’s phone number? It’s still the same since the last time you talked to her,” Jackson asked. It was time to wrap this up before Doc let Quinn have it.

“Yeah, give it to me. I have a different phone now and couldn’t transfer any numbers over.”

Jackson gave her Maeve’s phone number. Then he texted Maeve to tell her they’d just spoken with Quinn and shared her phone number. He told her he’d call her in a moment. “Okay. I’m going to call Maeve when we leave. Give me five minutes on the phone with her before you call. But call her. Within the hour.”

Quinn threw a lazy salute to Jackson. “Okay, I will. Let her know I can’t be a mom to Ciara. I don’t want her even going there.”

“Will do,” Jackson said.

He and Doc left the room and immediately exited the club, both slipping their sunglasses on to shield their eyes from the bright sunlight. Once inside the car, Jackson called Maeve. He had the phone on speaker. He and Doc gave her a complete rundown regarding the meeting they’d just had.

“So, she’s the same old Quinn,” Maeve said after she’d listened to their narrative of the encounter they’d had with her sister. Neither man could mistake the disappointment in her voice.

“We’ve got you covered, Maeve. Angel will take off work the day of your surgery and be at the hospital with you,” Jackson said.

“And we’ll keep Ciara at our house as long as needed for you to recover,” Doc added. “Elizabeth said you brought Ciara over this morning, and thinks she’ll do great with us. ”

“Thank you both so much,” Maeve said. “And of course Angel and Elizabeth, too. I truly don’t know what I’d do without all of you. I guess I’m not surprised that Quinn reacted the way she did. But I’d still like you to try to find Blain.”

“Maeve, Quinn didn’t seem so sure that Blain is Ciara’s father,” Jackson said. “She admitted to being with other men during that time.”

“I don’t remember it that way. She really wanted to hold on to Blain. I’m not so sure she would have been with anyone else.”

Jackson and Doc exchanged frustrated glances. “We’ll keep looking for him,” Jackson said. When he ended the call, he glanced at Doc again. “Thoughts?”

Doc shook his head. “I’m not sure what good can come from finding him, for Maeve, Ciara, or him.”