lights started to flicker “I called in some markers and officially owe three blowjobs,” she said. “Unfortunately, nothing bubbled to the surface. Based on what everyone could throw together fast, the woman is clean. That doesn’t mean there isn’t something there to find, given time and effort, but if it’s there it’s going to take some digging.”
“Thanks.”
He appreciated it.
He really did.
“You want us to dig deeper?”
Teffinger ran his fingers through his hair and pictured the process, namely surveillance, interviews, records searches, the kinds of things that took weeks.
“Hold off for now,” he said. “Let me see how the next couple of days go.”
“Okay.”
“I owe you one,” he said.
She laughed.
“Yeah, right, one—followed by two zeros.”
“I didn’t know you were keeping count,” he said. “Next time you’re in Denver, I’ll take you out and get you drunk.”
“Deal,” she said. “At a cowboy bar. Do you still have some of those around?”
He did.
He did indeed.
“Okay then,” Teffinger said. “I’ve got you penciled in.”
“Oh, no, not pencil, buddy—pen. I know how your pencil works.”
FAN RAE CALLED TEN MINUTES LATER.
“Are we still on for tonight?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll pick you up at 9:30,” she said. “I’m wearing something dark so I don’t stand out too much.”
Teffinger thought, g-punk .
“Good idea,” he said. “Just be sure it’s something that comes off.”
“Do you want me to wear pants or a dress?”
A dress, a short one.
The shortest one she has.
“What color underwear?”
“No underwear.”
“You want me to wear the shortest dress I have and no underwear?”
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t know you were so nasty,” she said.
“Now you know.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“Do it tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to. Show me I’m special.”
“But you are special.”
“Prove it.”
Silence.
“Okay,” she said, “but in return I expect you to get me seriously drunk.”
“Done.”
TEFFINGER HUNG UP and didn’t know why he did what he just did. Maybe it was to see what her limits were, and whether she’d go there for him. Maybe it was just so he could squeeze her bare ass whenever he felt like it.
“Don’t over-think it,” he muttered. “Your brain isn’t that big.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Day Five—August 7
Friday Night
______________
RA BUSTED ONTO THE SOHO SCENE eight months ago and became the instant big dog. It had a section for every sin. Paramount was an insanely massive techno dance floor with women in suspended cages who gyrated in their underwear. But there was also a live band room called the Inferno, a hostess bar called Twisted, and a bed and sofa lounge called Chills. Every nook and cranny was filled with sexual tension and the most beautiful people in Hong Kong.
Kong ran the place.
He was in charge of all hiring and firing, meaning no one worked there without his approval. He personally chose the bartenders, doormen, dancers, and everyone else. Only the pretty needed to apply. He was also present most nights, with his smiles and rock star looks and perfect clothes seductively unbuttoned, to be sure that the customers had a good time , with particular attention to the GQ, the models and the rich and relevant .
His job sounded easy.
It wasn’t, a nything but.
He earned his money.
Behind him, in the background, was an army of geeks who handled the mundane, things like ads and promotion, booking the bands, liquor inventory, security, insurance, bookkeeping, licensing, housekeeping, maintenance, payroll, benefits, taxes, et cetera.
Jack Poon owned the place.
It was a drop in his bucket.
It could evaporate and his bottom line wouldn’t even twitch.
Kong had been managing a smaller club in Lan Quai Fong called Freefall, also a Poon club although no one knew it, and got moved over to Ra when it opened. Kong didn’t meet
“Thanks.”
He appreciated it.
He really did.
“You want us to dig deeper?”
Teffinger ran his fingers through his hair and pictured the process, namely surveillance, interviews, records searches, the kinds of things that took weeks.
“Hold off for now,” he said. “Let me see how the next couple of days go.”
“Okay.”
“I owe you one,” he said.
She laughed.
“Yeah, right, one—followed by two zeros.”
“I didn’t know you were keeping count,” he said. “Next time you’re in Denver, I’ll take you out and get you drunk.”
“Deal,” she said. “At a cowboy bar. Do you still have some of those around?”
He did.
He did indeed.
“Okay then,” Teffinger said. “I’ve got you penciled in.”
“Oh, no, not pencil, buddy—pen. I know how your pencil works.”
FAN RAE CALLED TEN MINUTES LATER.
“Are we still on for tonight?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’ll pick you up at 9:30,” she said. “I’m wearing something dark so I don’t stand out too much.”
Teffinger thought, g-punk .
“Good idea,” he said. “Just be sure it’s something that comes off.”
“Do you want me to wear pants or a dress?”
A dress, a short one.
The shortest one she has.
“What color underwear?”
“No underwear.”
“You want me to wear the shortest dress I have and no underwear?”
“That’s right.”
“I didn’t know you were so nasty,” she said.
“Now you know.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“Do it tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to. Show me I’m special.”
“But you are special.”
“Prove it.”
Silence.
“Okay,” she said, “but in return I expect you to get me seriously drunk.”
“Done.”
TEFFINGER HUNG UP and didn’t know why he did what he just did. Maybe it was to see what her limits were, and whether she’d go there for him. Maybe it was just so he could squeeze her bare ass whenever he felt like it.
“Don’t over-think it,” he muttered. “Your brain isn’t that big.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Day Five—August 7
Friday Night
______________
RA BUSTED ONTO THE SOHO SCENE eight months ago and became the instant big dog. It had a section for every sin. Paramount was an insanely massive techno dance floor with women in suspended cages who gyrated in their underwear. But there was also a live band room called the Inferno, a hostess bar called Twisted, and a bed and sofa lounge called Chills. Every nook and cranny was filled with sexual tension and the most beautiful people in Hong Kong.
Kong ran the place.
He was in charge of all hiring and firing, meaning no one worked there without his approval. He personally chose the bartenders, doormen, dancers, and everyone else. Only the pretty needed to apply. He was also present most nights, with his smiles and rock star looks and perfect clothes seductively unbuttoned, to be sure that the customers had a good time , with particular attention to the GQ, the models and the rich and relevant .
His job sounded easy.
It wasn’t, a nything but.
He earned his money.
Behind him, in the background, was an army of geeks who handled the mundane, things like ads and promotion, booking the bands, liquor inventory, security, insurance, bookkeeping, licensing, housekeeping, maintenance, payroll, benefits, taxes, et cetera.
Jack Poon owned the place.
It was a drop in his bucket.
It could evaporate and his bottom line wouldn’t even twitch.
Kong had been managing a smaller club in Lan Quai Fong called Freefall, also a Poon club although no one knew it, and got moved over to Ra when it opened. Kong didn’t meet
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