Dair (The Wild Side #3)(15)

He was uncomfortable.

“You did ask her out,” I guessed.

He winced comically.  “Yeah, I did.  I’m not her type.  I think I came on a little too strong for her, right after her divorce.  After that, she’s refused to take my calls, even professionally.”

“What on earth did you do?”

“Nothing terrible.  I was just a bit crude, and she’s a lady.  Put in a good word for me with her, will you?  At least professionally, if nothing else.  I could use some new headshots.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I probably won’t see her any time soon.”

“Sure you won’t, stud.”

As though f**king Turner had willed it, I ran into Lourdes at the market three days later.

We hugged, she kissed me on both cheeks, European style, and we proceeded to go for coffee and chat for over an hour.

I really did enjoy her company.

Something seemed different about her, some new flush to her cheeks that hadn’t been there before.  A new light in her eyes that made me wonder what she’d been up to.

“You look great,” I told her, for maybe the third time.

I was an idiot.  She always looked great.

She flushed in pleasure and thanked me.

But there was just something about her, some subtle shift that had her going from being naturally sultry to nearly oozing sex appeal.

I knew she hadn’t been dating much, if at all, since her divorce, but I wondered suddenly if she was getting laid.

That’s what it was, I thought, the look of a beautiful woman well f**ked.

Probably my overactive imagination going wild, but she did look good.  Not the usual wearing just the right color good, but getting your world rocked on a regular basis good.

I wondered about it, but we didn’t have the type of friendship where I could just come out and ask a thing like that.

We went for a walk after coffee; in fact I walked her nearly to her house, which was close by.

I avoided taking her all the way home, getting cold feet and telling her I was running behind for a meeting, which was a lie.

I just couldn’t tell how interested she was in me, and I didn’t want to get into an awkward situation with her, if I could avoid it.

I was still holding a torch for an ether-tapping eighteen-year-old that was being held prisoner God only knew where, and for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

Life went on without a word from Iris, and I felt like a fool.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ONE MONTH LATER

I couldn’t even recall what all was said in the short phone call that had me driving across the city in the middle of the night on a Tuesday.

I did remember the sound of her voice and the tone of it.

Calm and sure.

Even a touch casual, as though I hadn’t been waiting, anxious and desperate for any word of her since the last time we were together.

I couldn’t remember throwing on clothes, but my mind was clear by the time I made it to my garage.

I took my black Q7, because it had a bit more room, and I wasn’t sure what to expect.

I also recalled where she’d told me to meet her and why it was such a strange request.

It was that damned neon rave warehouse club where I’d had to pick her up from all those months ago, that same place where someone had slipped something into her drink.

What in all hell was she thinking to end up there again?

And when had she gotten back to town?

I would have to wait to find out, as she’d hung up before I could ask a single question.

I got some strange looks as I parked my Audi on the curb beside some kids painted neon and tripping out on God only knew what.

“It’s a cop, man!” one of them yelled, and I paused for a moment, looking down at myself.

I’d thrown on dark gray UA track pants and a matching tee, my unruly brown hair was messy as usual, and that looked like a cop to them?  Or were they just that high?

It didn’t matter; I ignored them, walking past.  Only one person in this mess of neon concerned me.

It only took a few minutes for me to scan through all of the partygoers lined up near the street.  Iris was always easy to spot, so I didn’t have to look hard to know she wasn’t outside.

With a long-suffering sigh, I headed inside.

The doorman didn’t want to let me in, but I’d brought cash for just this reason.

I handed him a fifty, and he stepped aside without a word.

I stepped into a cramped, crowded hallway that seemed to go on forever.  The place was a madhouse of loud house music pumping through the walls, and way too many people, all stoned out of their minds, occupying a very narrow space.

I plunged through the writhing bodies, scanning every head I passed.

No sign of her.

There was a second bouncer manning another set of doors at the end of the hall.  He had the opposite reaction of the other guy.

He eyed me, top to bottom.  “You Dair?”

That took me aback for obvious reasons, but I found myself nodding.

What the hell was going on now?

He nodded back, pulling a mouthpiece out of his collar that I hadn’t seen, and speaking into it.

This was a well-organized rave, apparently.

“We’ve got Dair here,” he spoke loudly into it.  “Bruno, can you show him up?”