Desert Heat, Page 3

  Chapter 3

  The past two weeks had been grueling. Three homicides in the last five days alone. Damian was sure the world was going to shit. He’d spent so much time examining corpses, interviewing witnesses, and interrogating suspects. His social life had been pretty much nonexistent for the last few months. Not that it was anything new to him. Working six- to seven-day weeks was far too common for him lately.

  These days he welcomed the hectic schedule. Since his last relationship, about a year ago, he had had nothing but one-nighters. By choice, of course. There was no shortage of women ready to settle in with him. He just didn’t have time for that right now. Being the youngest detective in his department and knowing that some of the older veterans resented him for moving up so fast, he was determined to prove he belonged there. He’d earned it, damn it. Putting his career first and working his ass off for years hadn’t come without a price. He’d given up a social life and in the process lost the only girl he’d ever gotten serious with. So at the very least, he’d make damn sure it had been worth it.

  As caught up as he’d been in trying to prove himself, he hadn’t even been too broken up about the split. He was certain now that relationships and love were overrated. Not that he actually thought he’d ever been in love with Lana. In fact, the moment she admitted she’d turned to her ex-boyfriend to vent about how lonely she was, he knew he wasn’t in love, because it didn’t hurt. She assured him she hadn’t done anything physical, had just needed someone to talk to, but it didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, this was just as bad, if not worse. Emotional affairs could be more damaging to a relationship than the physical ones. Though he’d never put up with either. Regardless, it should’ve hurt.

  He’d been pissed, and his ego took a blow, but there was no pain. None. After that he couldn’t get her out of his house fast enough. With everything he was dealing with at work, the last thing he needed was to get home and wonder if she’d been talking to or texting her ex all day.

  He could admit now it was weird at first not having anyone to come home to. Still it hadn’t taken long to get used to being on his own again. He enjoyed being his own man. Not having to answer to anyone about anything. Including having to work late . . . again. The older he got, the more he was beginning to think he’d be on his own forever. And that was fine by him. That’s why he didn’t understand why Jerry was so hell-bent on finding a soul mate.

  He hadn’t talked to Jerry since the night of the speed date until earlier today. Their talk that night had been brief, and even today’s talk had been a rushed one. Jerry never finished telling him about the girls he’d met the night of the speed date, because Mason, their latest friend to fall victim to the relationship pit, showed up at J.T’s with his fiancée. Jerry didn’t want anyone else to know about the speed date, so the subject had been canned.

  Glad the day was finally over, Damian threw his coat in the backseat and jumped into his Camaro—a ’69. A true classic. Damian couldn’t help smiling as the engine roared to a start.

  He finally had a night off, and where was he headed? To meet Jerry at some dive downtown, where one of the girls he’d met worked. Apparently, the girl had mentioned to Jer that the dinner show that Friday was supposed to be a good one. And of course Jerry took that as an invite.

  The only reason Damian agreed to go was that the girl was working there tonight, so Jerry wasn’t meeting her for an actual date. Damian wouldn’t be a third wheel. That, and Jerry had mentioned some heavy stuff going on with his teenage daughter, Ashlynn. He’d been pretty stressed out about her in the past few months. Damian had heard it in his voice, over the phone. Things were getting worse.

  Considering all the times Jerry had been there for him, Damian figured the least he owed him was to sit and listen, while throwing back a few. Damian was almost there when Jerry called.

  “Damian, I’m running late.” The agitation in his voice was unmistakable. “Ashlynn kept me on the phone so much today I fell behind on my work. But I’m outta here now. Get a table for us and order me a steak—well done. I’m starving. I spent my whole lunch on the phone with her. I’ve already reserved a table. Just give the hostess my name.”

  “You got it, man.” Damian smiled feeling for his friend. “I’ll order you a shot, too. Sounds like you need one.”

  Jerry didn’t respond, and for a moment Damian thought maybe they’d been cut off. “Jer?”

  “Uh, they don’t sell alcohol there.”

  “What?” Damian asked, already feeling this night beginning to tank.

  “They have beer and wine,” Jerry added quickly. “But their liquor license was pulled for the hard stuff recently, so no shots. She said they’re working on getting it back, though.”

  Damian shook his head and frowned. Tonight was a total exception he’d made for Jerry’s sake. Normally, he would never venture to that side of town for social reasons. He had zero intention of ever returning to the place, so their working on getting their liquor license was no consolation. The only times he’d ever been in that area at all were back in his patrol days, when they were called out there constantly. The whole area was trouble.

  More than having to drive out to this dive, the fact that he’d have to settle for beer was a pisser. After the week he’d had, he was looking forward to having a stiff drink or two.

  Hearing Damian’s lack of response, Jerry continued. “Don’t sweat it,” Jerry assured him. “We’ll eat and hang for a bit, then we’re out of there. We’ll get that bourbon on the rocks I know you’re wanting somewhere else.”

  Minutes after getting off the phone with Jerry, Damian drove up to the small theater in old downtown Vegas. “City Lights.” He read the old sign out loud. Several of the bulbs were missing, it was so old.

  He’d never actually been in the place, but he had been called out several times to deal with drunken fights in the very lot he was now parking his car in. Back then he was sure this was a strip bar, and seeing that they were using the same name he now wondered about the girl Jerry was coming to see tonight. Jerry had called it a dinner show, so Damian had to assume it was a different kind of show now, and the new owners had just been too cheap to invest in a new sign.

  Walking into the place, his assumption was immediately confirmed. The posters on the wall of the different performances ranged from jazz bands to piano soloist, even a magic act. Then he saw the poster for tonight’s show. A glamorous singer in front of a vintage mic who looked like a forties Hollywood starlet in a long, red, shimmery dress with curves that had to be Photoshopped. Even the long, perfect leg, which was exposed by the slit in the dress that went all the way up to the top of her thigh, was too perfect. A thick shiny sheath of black hair fell over one eye, and the photo’s dramatic shading was such that the only part of her face he could make out was her luscious, heart-shaped, blood-red lips.

  He chuckled inwardly, because aside from the fact that she was not a redhead, it was very Jessica Rabbitish. She even wore the long satin gloves all the way past her elbows. No doubt the show would be as cheesy as the photo. He wondered if the stunning girl in the photo was the actual performer or if they’d hired a model for it. From the looks of the place, it could very well be a stock photo. There was no way someone who looked like that would be working in a dump like this place.

  He read the top of the poster:

  VINTAGE SOUL

  One woman

  One night

  One unforgettable experience

  Before he could read the entire poster, the hostess informed him she could show him to his table. He’d already given her Jerry’s name, and she’d told him they were just getting the final touches done on the table. Damian had wondered what that meant but didn’t ask.

  As they reached the table, Damian stared at her for a moment. Jerry had to be kidding. She set the menus down on the table, and that confirmed it. Jerry had in fact reserved the table front-row center. They would literally be having dinner just feet away from where the v
intage mic, like the one in the poster, stood. And the final touches she’d mentioned included a bottle of wine on ice and some long-stemmed roses lying across the table.

  What the hell?

  Jerry was too much. Shaking his head as he took a seat, Damian actually felt a little embarrassed as a few people at the other tables glanced at him. It would only get worse when Jerry walked in and sat with him. They’d then know this incredibly romantic setup was for the two of them, and since Damian had arrived first, they’d assume the whole thing was his idea, roses and all. Great.

  Instead of taking the hostess up on her offer to pour him a glass of wine, he ordered a beer. He’d man this shit up, one way or another. He also put in their dinner orders, so they could start moving things along as fast as possible. The second they were done eating, whether the show was over or not, he was insisting they get the hell out of there. The hostess smiled, telling him she’d put his order in and that she’d send the waitress back with his drink.

  Now that he’d gotten a better look at the hostess, he decided she was way too young to be the girl Jerry was here to see, and he didn’t recognize her at all as any of the girls from the speed date. The waitress who brought his drink was cute and had a beautiful smile, but he didn’t remember there being any African-American women at the speed date, so that ruled her out as well.

  Three beers later, Jerry wasn’t there yet. Even though they’d dimmed the lights, their food hadn’t been brought out yet, so Jerry still had time to get there. In Damian’s experience, dinner shows normally didn’t get started until everyone’s dinner had been served. Just as he began to scrutinize the young, blond girl with a guitar setting up on one corner of the small stage, his phone buzzed. He flinched and snatched it out of his pocket—Jerry.

  “You almost here?”

  “I hate to do this to you, man.” Jerry sounded even more agitated than earlier. “But I’m not gonna make it.”

  Damian let his head fall back, refraining from cussing. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “You’re serious? I’m already here, and I already ordered.Oh, and by the way, you mind telling me what’s with all this romantic shit? Wasn’t it enough that I agreed to come with you to a cheesy dinner show, you have me sitting just feet away from the damn mic. Then you set the table up with chilled wine and long-stemmed—”

  “Ashlynn ran away.”

  For a moment it didn’t register. Damian blinked repeatedly, squeezing the phone. “What?”

  Jerry sighed. “Shannon just called. She and Ashlynn got into it again today, pretty bad, and Ashlynn took off. But she’s done that before and come back after a few hours. This time she didn’t. Shannon checked her room and noticed her suitcase along with a lot of her clothes and laptop were gone.”

  Damian felt like a jerk for starting to go off on him. “Where do you think she went? Have you reported it?”

  Damian wasn’t even sure if he could do much, since Ashlynn lived in California, completely out of his jurisdiction, but he’d stop at nothing to help Jerry.

  “No, but I’m pretty sure I know where she’s headed if she’s not already there—my place. If she left just after noon, she should be there already. I didn’t tell Shannon, but she’s threatened to run away and show up here before.”

  “You need me to do anything, call anyone?”

  “Actually, yeah, I don’t want to call Beth at work, can you let her know I’m not gonna make it?”

  “Beth?” Damian looked around again, spotting a different waitress a few tables down. “Which one is she, I don’t recognize any of the waitresses.”

  “That’s ’cause she’s not a waitress,” Jerry informed him. “She’s in the show.”

  “What?”

  Damian brought his attention to the girl with the guitar who was now sitting on a stool strumming the strings softly. Just then his dinner arrived. The waitress set down the plate in front of him along with a fresh basket of bread and butter. Damian mouthed the words thank you, but she seemed to be waiting for something.

  “Hold on, Jer. The food just arrived.”

  Pulling the phone away from his ear, he gave the waitress his attention.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your call. I just want to let you know that the other steak will be out shortly. It’s just taking a bit longer because you asked for it well done.”

  “It’s okay.” Damian smiled. “Actually, can you just make that one to go? The person I was meeting just canceled.” He pointed at the phone. Her face immediately went all sympathetic, making him feel even stupider about this big elaborate setup now that he’d apparently been stood up. “No,” he shook his head, smiling. “I was meeting a guy friend.” Her eyes expanded widely, and she nodded quickly, her face tingeing ever so slightly. Now Damian’s head moved quickly also, only he shook his. “He did all this, not me. You see, I didn’t even know about it and now . . .” Seeing how she continued to nod and seemed a little uncomfortable even, he gave up. “Never mind.” He exhaled, feeling completely annoyed with Jerry again. “Just . . . just make the other one to go.”

  The lights began to dim even more as she walked away, and he brought the phone back to his ear. Jerry was chuckling on the other end. “Yeah, laugh it up, you ass. It wasn’t bad enough that she was thinking what a pathetic loser I am for setting up all this crap only to get stood up. She now thinks I got stood up by my boyfriend.”

  Jerry laughed even more now. “Well, your food’s there now, and I’ve already paid for everything upfront. Dinner’s included, so just eat and enjoy the show; it’s supposed to be good. Then you can leave at intermission. But can you just do that one thing for me?”

  Feeling exasperated that Jerry was not only expecting him to hang around, he still had the nerve to ask him to hunt down this girl. Damian turned back to scrutinize the blonde onstage. “Does she play the guitar?”

  Damian hoped Jerry would say she did. He was already having visions of walking up to the girl with the guitar, delivering Jerry’s message, then letting his waitress know something had come up so he could get the hell out of there.

  “I don’t know. Bethany was pretty vague. Just said she was in the show.”

  The second he heard the name he stopped staring at the blonde, and his attention was brought to the curtain at the back of the stage. The silhouette of a women behind the curtain looked as perfectly curved as the girl in the poster.

  “Bethany?”

  “Yeah, she’s who the roses were for. You remember which one I’m talking about, right? The one with the bow?”

  Damian gulped. “Yeah.” He gripped the phone now as the guitar’s mic was turned on suddenly, because it was much louder now. “I remember. I’ll let her know. The show’s starting. I gotta go.”

  Jerry began thanking him and apologizing again, but Damian clicked End before his friend could finish and turned the phone off. With the place completely dark now, except for the spotlight behind the girl onstage allowing for an incredible silhouette, the only other lighting in the room was the candles on the dinner tables. Damian reasoned that the fact that she was in the show didn’t mean she was the girl behind the now-opening curtain. That Bethany, the girl who had dismissed him so unceremoniously, couldn’t possibly be the bombshell on the poster—the girl with the perfect hourglass shape beginning a slow sway of those hips in his direction.

  Squeezing his beer bottle, Damian tried not to think about the fact that in just a few seconds she’d be standing but two feet away from him. With the light’s changing, now he could see that her dress was the same red shimmering one he’d seen on the poster. Her incredible curves and cleavage had not been Photoshopped. The only thing he was yet to make out was her face, because the lights were moving slowly up her body, pausing at her neckline—teasing.

  As she finally made it to the microphone, she was so close to his table he could smell her intoxicating fragrance. There was no doubt about it. This was the same girl f
rom the speed date—Bethany. As different as she looked now, with her impeccably elegant makeup, as opposed to the overdone gaudy crap she’d worn when he first met her, there was no mistaking it was her. He saw it in those eyes, which even under all that makeup, he’d been so drawn to that first day.

  As she glanced around the room slowly, her lips gave way to a very self-indulgent smile. He still couldn’t get over the fact that someone who looked this perfect would be working in a dive like this. Even if she had participated in the goofy speed date, remembering her self-assured demeanor from the moment she’d sat down and seeing that sinful smile now, clearly she knew she was too good for this place. The only thing he could think of was that she couldn’t be very good.

  That thought hadn’t even finished sinking in when the lights suddenly shut down, and the guitar went silent. After a few dramatic seconds of nothing, the guitar began strumming a slow song he didn’t recognize. He braced himself, almost nervous for her, afraid that she’d be really bad or would sing something painfully cheesy. The spotlight was on her face again. Her skin actually sparkled. The lighting did something to the makeup around her eyes and her lips. Moments ago with the different lighting he hadn’t seen it, but now under this light it appeared as if her eyes and lips were surrounded by glitter. It was mesmerizing, and he felt like a mosquito being drawn into a light. Then out from those lips poured a song he now recognized, but only because of the famous lyrics, because the spin her sultry vocal put on it made it completely different from the original. It was still the same song, but she added such an essence of poignant sensuality to it, he hadn’t even realized he’d been rendered immobile.