Page 54 of The Attercop

“No, but imagine what Abela would think about both of us if Ididtell her my daddy bought your services?”

They both laughed.

Charlie pulled into a parking lot near the Den & Black. It was a quarter-to-nine—fashionably late. Normally the place closed down by eight, but this was a special event.

As they walked in, Charlie felt a bit queasy. He was a little out of his comfort zone. Okay, alotout of his comfort zone. He snapped himself out of it by remembering why he was here—to protect Jules.

They sat at a table across from the bar. “I’m going to get us drinks,” she said. “What are you having?”

“I’ll have a sparkling water, and you’re seventeen so you’ll have the same.”

“Actually, I’m nineteen, at least according to my fake driver’s license, so I’m thinking…a mojito tonight.”

She moved sinuously across the floor and soon was in deep conversation with the bartender. She directed his gaze back to Charlie then continued the conversation. A moment later she returned to the table with two drinks in hand.

“There,” she said, positioning her back to the guy at the bar. “He gave me the drink, but intheory, you’re having the mojito and I’m having the sparkling water.” She took a sip of the mojito. “He saidyoulooked old enough to drink, but apparently he wasn’t overly convinced about my ID. I forgot that I was supposed to be born in Lacombe. At least I got the nameright—Esther Rodriguez.” She shook her mane of hair as she pronounced her new name with a bad Spanish accent.

Charlie sprayed out a partial mouthful of sparkling water. “You’re…?”

“In my mind, my parents are from Brazil,” she continued in a terrible Spanish accent.

“And you were surprised that he questioned you? And Brazil is a Portuguese-speaking country.”

“What did he expect from someone born in Lacombe? So, tell me,” she asked, leaning close to him, “what sort of things have you gotten into as a private eye?”

“Well, I once pretended to be a video game designer and got myself thrown into traffic by a mobster.”

“Oh my god!”

“Our company has had its fair share of dealing with the mob, and biker gangs.”

“Wild,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “And you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“I have a friend who’s a girl, but not in the romantic sense. I always knew what I liked—”

“And you landed it. Phew, and is he hot or what?”

Charlie grinned in spite of himself.

The DJ started to playPrada.

“Oh, I love this song. Come on,” she said, dragging him up onto the dance floor.

Charlie figured that there was no harm in having fun while he was on the job. Soon he was moving to the beat and swaying his arms in the air like a pair of drunken snakes. It felt like dancing with Carrie…if Carrie had been seventeen and an almost-Brazilian from Lacombe. Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.

All around them, the dance floor was a sea of writhing bodies pressed against each other, grinding and rubbing. The smell of sweat permeated the air.

After dancing for several songs, Jules grabbed his hands and hauled him back to the table. They both downed what was left of their drinks. Charlie felt that it had gone right through him.

“I gotta pee,” he yelled into her ear. “Follow me.”

“You don’t have to take me to the bathroom with you. I can stay here on my own.”

“That’s not how this works,” Charlie insisted.

“If you think I’m going into the stall with you, you’re wrong.”

Charlie grabbed Jules’ hand and pulled her across the room to the gender-neutral washroom. “Stay on the other side of this door and I’ll be out in a minute. If anyone bothers you, just scream.”