The light moved over the club methodically, swaying to the beat of the music. The dancers couldn't quite be called that, nor simple bystanders. Everyone in the room undulated more than danced, gyrating back and forth to the dark beats that filled the hollow club. A Massive Attack song was heard in the background, low, the bass more audible than the beats. There were four bouncers outside, yet no security inside. A bar was to the right, but looked unused, several bottles of alcohol lying empty on the shelves.
Lincoln Carver noticed all these things upon his first three seconds through the door. A few years working homicide taught him to be observant, and a lifetime growing up on the streets before that had taught him the price of letting one's guard down. There were two direct exits he could see, including the one he had just walked through, as well as a door that seemed to lead upstairs and an open doorway that possibly led to the back of the establishment. The music was flowing seamlessly from song to song, but he couldn't see where the DJ, if any, was located. Overlooking the dance floor seemed to be a second story, one way mirror, which would be where the VIP room or management was located. He began to make his way towards the thick crowd.
Walking through the throng of dancers, making his way towards the back, Linc was assaulted several times by vagrant body parts rubbing against him, searching for a dance partner. When his stiff frame denied them, they went about their grindings alone, rubbing against each other or whatever they could find. Although several of the girls were pretty enough to catch his eye, none offered what he was looking for, and he continued through to the back. The far wall, appropriately decorated with flowers, was home to several diner style booths, the tables having been removed to offer better access to groping hands and public lewdity. Several were taken, most for the sake of libido, but the one farthest from the dance floor held only a single person.
She was young, hard to tell exactly how young in the current day and age, but definitely had lied her way in here. Her blonde hair, done up in pigtails, complimented the short plaid skirt that was hiked up almost around her hips. The school girl motif, while not entirely original, still brought in a crowd, and was an easy short cut to getting laid. More importantly, it seemed to portray the exact opposite of what dressing as such implied; innocence, naivety, and virginity. It was exactly the type of girl Linc was looking for.
He slid in next to her, trying his hardest to utilize the good looks his mother had assured him he had all his life. He looked a little cliché as well, the five o'clock shadow, the tailored leather jacket, but hopefully it would work as well for him as her outfit did for her.
If his manly swagger had any effect, she didn't let on, and, in fact, probably would have acted the exact same way if no one had sat down at all. He signed and pulled a picture out of his pocket.
"Do you know this woman?"
She looked at him, slightly interested now, and looked at the Polaroid. The face had burned itself into Lincoln's memory, and he took great care to show the picture to her in a way so that he, conversely, could see none of it. He could feel her presence, the woman in black, even though he couldn't see the picture. Mentally, he could imagine her image seeping through to the back of the Polaroid. Satisfied that she was done looking at it, he quickly stuffed the plastic back into a coat pocket.
"You a cop?"
"Do you know her?"
"No."
She did know her, of course, and asking was just a formality. The tough cop noir act died hard though.
"Your name is Alex. You've worked at the strip club on fourth and Balboa for six months, supposedly doing bar keeping under the table. Word is you do more than that. Word is, also, that this woman came in and spent roughly five thousand dollars on your...bar keeping... So, let's start over. You know this woman?"
Her eyes lost their focus at the mention of his knowing her name, and now she somewhat resembled an animal backed into a corner.
"I might remember her."
"What happened?"
"Girl came in, wanted to have do a private dance, real private. I told her we don't do that type of thing, but she kept insisting. Said she wanted me to give it to her. I said I wasn't a dancer. She said she'd heard different. I told her she'd heard wrong. Which is what I'm going to tell you."
"If you aren't selling, why doesn't the club put you on its payroll?"
"Because I don't want them to."
"Look, cheap prostitution is the last thing I'm looking for. I need to know..."
Her eyes changed from blank to cold slate in a split second, and he put his arm on her to stop her from leaving.
"You really are just a barkeep there?"
"Yeah. A friend got me the gig, said I could learn the ropes early, make some good money, maybe get myself through college. If my mom finds out, she'll freak out, he could lose his license for illegally employing a minor."
"How old are you?"
"You're not very well informed for a cop."
"Never mind, I don't care about you, or your friend, or your mother. I only care about this woman."
"Why, what did she do?"
"What did she say to you?"
"What if I don't tell you?"
Linc put a hand to his face, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose, and turned to look her in the eyes.
"Just...tell me. Please. It's important, trust me."
