The Last Housewife (25)

“I was wondering.” I bit my lip. “I’ve heard about…a place, here at the Mansion. Where you can have a different kind of fun. A more private, adult kind.”

The young man had a wide, guileless face. When his Adam’s apple bobbed, I knew.

“My friend told me about it,” I pressed. I was barely speaking above a whisper, but his eyes darted around the lobby. “I think it’s called the Sparrow…”

“Tongue-Cut Sparrow,” he said, eyes on my water.

It did exist. I put a hand on his shoulder and spooked him; he nearly jumped backward. “Will you tell me how to get there?”

He looked at me for so long I worried I’d pushed my luck. But finally he said in the softest voice, “Are you sure you want to go?”

“Yes. Very much.”

He nodded toward the bank of elevators. “Take those to the basement, turn left, and knock three times on the door at the end of the hall.”

Victory. I felt a frisson of thrill.

He straightened and started to turn away, then glanced back. There was something like disappointment, or pity, in his eyes. “Stay safe,” he murmured and walked away.

I turned and, from across the lobby, caught Jamie’s waiting eyes.

***

When the elevator doors rolled open, we stared into a long, dark, empty hallway.

“I feel like Alice, falling down the rabbit hole,” Jamie said.

I pointed to the left. “This way.”

We walked silently. The farther from the elevators we got, the more the hallway changed. At first, there’d been dark wallpaper, and dim lights overhead. But eventually the wallpaper gave way to rough stone walls, the overhead bulbs to candles dripping wax from sconces on the wall. And suddenly, I heard it: an insistent thumping, running through the floor.

“Look.” Jamie pointed. A single black door, far in the distance.

When we got there, I knocked three times, heart pounding, and glanced at Jamie. He looked resolute. Be a professional, I told myself. Like him.

After a minute, still no answer. Jamie tried, striking the door with three heavy blows.

A rectangular sliver in the door slid open, and the insistent thumping from inside grew louder. A pair of dark eyes gleamed back at us.

Jamie straightened. “Tongue-Cut Sparrow?”

“What do you want?” The voice was gruff.

“To come in,” I said.

The eyes slid to me, then back to Jamie. Jamie started to say something, but the voice cut him off. “You’re not members.”

There were memberships? What was this place?

“Potential members,” Jamie insisted. “How much to come in for one night?”

The eyes narrowed. After a moment: “A thousand each for a flyby. And you follow all the rules.”

Jamie laughed incredulously, turning to me, but I kept my eyes on the door. “Deal.”

It swung open, and music rushed out. A remarkably broad man in a pin-striped suit scowled at us. Behind him was a dark wall with a brilliant painting of a sparrow in flight, crying out at the sight of a jewel-handled knife.

I unzipped my purse and handed the man my credit card. I’d hear from Cal about this, no question. Who knew how this would be listed on the monthly bill? But right now, I didn’t care.

“You give me everything,” the man said, pointing at my purse. “Cell phones, wallets. You can’t take anything but cash. No recordings. No outside contact.”

Jamie and I looked at each other.

“Once you get inside, bathrooms are around the corner. You can change there.”

Change? I didn’t dare reveal my ignorance, so I simply nodded and gave the man everything I was holding. Jamie emptied his pockets. To my surprise, the man patted us down, hands moving briskly over my body.

“Fine,” he said when he was through. He held out his palm. In the center rested two tiny, midnight-blue pills. “Last thing.”

I froze.

“What are those?” Jamie demanded.

The giant man didn’t blink. “They’re the rule.”

Jamie looked at me. “I don’t know…”

I didn’t want to lose control. Step inside weaponless and vulnerable, a soft thing, easy to tear. The music seemed to grow louder, more sinister and disorienting. That was panic seeping in. This was everything I’d spent years avoiding, the exact sort of situation I’d sworn never to expose myself to again. But…

Laurel was here, I told myself. Odds are, she stood in this very spot and took a pill just like this one, and you need to know why. Do it for her. What other choice do you have?

What other choice did I have? I reached for the pill and swallowed.

For Laurel.

***

We stepped through the door in the wall and entered a perverse underground fairyland. It was a vast cave, the rocky ceilings high as a cathedral, stalactites reaching down like grasping fingers, stone pillars creating a maze of rooms. Was this why the Mansion was built atop a hill? We had to be deep inside it now. Through the door, the volume was overwhelming; I could feel the bass in my bones, trying to wrest control over my heartbeat. I couldn’t imagine what it took to keep this sound from leaking out into the Mansion’s grounds.

Hot baths dotted the cave, their turquoise waters lit like jewels. Candles lined the pathways, as if each pool were an altar. There were people everywhere, more men than women, some of them dancing close, kissing against walls, some pressing into each other in the baths. Most were naked, the rest in nothing but panties or tight, clinging boxers. I nearly choked.