The Truth About Him by M O'Keefe

Author:M O'Keefe [O'Keefe, M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101884508
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2015-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

DYLAN

The Velvet Touch parking lot was full of minivans and big rigs. No motorcycles to be seen.

Last night I sat out here, across from the front door, because of Annie. Because it felt wrong to go inside. But tonight, I didn’t have time to waste; I had to go in and talk to people. Find out if anyone here had seen my brother.

The minute the doorman looked me up and down I was acutely aware of my scars. And the thing with my scars in this situation, combined with my size and my general anger—they made me a guy to be wary of. A guy to watch.

“Hey,” I said to the doorman.

“Two-drink minimum,” he mumbled at me, staring at my face like it was magnetic and he had no choice.

“I’m looking for a guy—”

“Then you’re in the wrong place,” the bouncer said.

“A biker. People call him Logsy.”

“Two-drink minimum.” That was it. All he said. He took my money, stamped my hand, and I walked into the club feeling like the shit creek I’d somehow stumbled into was way deeper than I’d thought.

Inside, The Velvet Touch was like every second-rate strip club I’d ever been in.

The girls looked the same, so did the chairs and the stage. The bouncers with black glasses and leather jackets with worn gray seams. Their practiced sneers very nearly made me smile.

I knew before I went in that my brother wasn’t going to be here. Not now. Maybe not at all.

But I couldn’t go back to the trailer park. Not without knowing something.

I stepped up onto the small raised seating area in the back of the club, hoping I had a good angle to watch everything without drawing too much attention to myself.

“Hey, sugar.” A woman in red lingerie approached me with a tray of shots that glowed in the black light. Behind her a blonde flipped herself upside down on a pole. “Want a drink?”

“Club soda with lime,” I said.

“You bet,” she said, the smile turning down at the corners.

A few minutes later the waitress came back with the club soda. “Tab?” she asked.

“No thanks.” I gave her a twenty and held up my hand when she began to give me change. “Spread the word, I’m not interested in any company.”

“Sure,” she said, slipping the twenty into the Hello Kitty pencil case on her tray.

“I’m looking for a guy named Max—they call him Logsy,” I said. “Part of the motorcycle club that comes in here.”

The girl’s face was utterly still. Carefully benign. She shook her head, pursing her lips. “Don’t know the guy.”

She was lying to me. And not very well. Her hands on her tray were white-knuckled.

“Black hair. Blue eyes? Tall and thin?” I asked, giving her a chance to tell the truth.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, baby,” she said.

I wasn’t going to force the issue. If I was going to have to come back tomorrow night and the night after that, it would be better to have a friend here.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem. You should think about getting a lap dance.

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