70 Ashan 722
Nightfall
Continued from here.
The joint between Maxine's lips dwindled as the salacious dance routines kicked off. The paper burned back toward the addict like a fuse, adding more ash to the fragile end and keeping time all at once. Ambrosia smoke created a slight haze and buzzed between her ears. Dancers came. Dancers went. Some were better than others, but Maxine's eyes were more concerned with her surroundings as a whole. There was little in the opening routines she hadn't seen before.
This place was familiar and falling back into her seat was like slipping her hand into one of her gloves. She eased back into her seat and draped her wrists lazily over the chair's arms. Bodies were packed in the lounge area by this point of the night. The most comfortable characters hunted for seats while the more nervous, secretive sorts clung to the shadows of the wall while their eyes ate up the performances on the stage. Maxine noticed the stares of whores as they darted through the crowd. This was the hunting hour, and after the show, they'd meander straight for their prey.
"Hi, Maxine," a sultry voice purred into the Rusalka ear. Max rolled her head to spy the giggling, vaguely recognizable prostitute just before the woman darted away to brush against a man in the corner of the room. Max sighed. Everyone, she supposed, liked their games. She believed very few who claimed not to be entertained by drama. Whichever one of Sabrina's coworkers that was, she was evidently an instigator. She knew eventually someone would spy her familiar silhouette in the dark.
Whatever. As long as she doesn't tattle tale.
Better acts raised the invigorated energy in the room. Anticipation built as those in the know understood the main event was about to begin. The last male dancer threw his tight fitting coat over his bared shoulder and waltzed off the stage. He nodded his head to the appreciative crowd, thanking one of his female coworkers for gathering his hard-earned coin in a small sack. As he ducked into the back to freshen and change, the stage was left empty. Max knew it would remain that way for a time. Sabrina liked to play with the audience's anticipation.
The end of the Ambrosia ran to ash and Max pitched it in an ash try on the arm of her chair. It was as good of an indicator as any that she'd timed everything just right. Sabrina's dance would start at any moment. As she sat with the Ambrosia buzz she started to wonder what element the dancer would bring to her unique performance this time. Would it be fire again? Water running down their bodies? She'd talked about wanting to play with the theme of the audience's perception about prostitutes and the good, sexual filthiness demanded from them. Maybe she'd do something with mud. Or jewels.
All of Maxine's pondering came to a sharp, perplexed end when the dancers entered the stage to start breaking the torches and props down that had been used. Her brow furrowed. This wasn't right. Sabrina should've been on, especially on a night this profitable. Sabrina was always the closer. She took her role seriously, and Max couldn't ever convince her to take a bigger night off if it meant blowing off a performance. This wasn't right.
The Rusalka rose from her chair as other patrons murmured their disappointment to one another. She ducked her head as she moved through the bodies of meandering dancers and whores looking to score a lay for the night. Once she made it to Sabrina's room in the back of the brothel she gave the door handle a sharp turn. It opened with easy and her mood darkened.
The door creaked open but the woman wasn't inside. The room, once pristinely clean, didn't look much better since they had their blow-out fight. The chandelier over her bed was still shattered. A stool had replaced the chair broken when it was thrown across the room at her by the vanity. The collection of make-up on the vanity was in disarray rather than its usual, neat order. The bed wasn't made. Dresser drawers were half open rather than firmly shut and in a line. At least the glass, splinters, blood, and spilled Katomise had been cleaned up.
Maxine took a few steps into the center of the bedroom and took in the scene.
Where are you?
"You really are a parasite, aren't you?" the Ithecal groaned from the opened doorway. Maxine glanced over her shoulder and watched the bouncer with uncertain eyes. The reptile huffed. "She hasn't been here in trials."
"The last time you saw her?" Max asked tensely.
"Walkin' disaster compared to her baseline."
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean." The Ithecal stepped inside and closed the door behind him slowly. "All of them use. Some heavier than others. Sabrina wasn't one of the heavies though. Then something changed. I see her every night. I knew something was stressing her. Could see it in her eyes, you know?" He crossed his arms. "Last I saw her? Strung out mess. Seriously."
"Sabrina doesn't use like that."
"She does now, I promise you that."
"What's she using? Katomise?"
"Nah," the bouncer shook his giant head. "Something else. She started sleeping through shows a couple times before she just up and left in a hurry."
"This doesn't make any sense."
"Doesn't it?" The Ithecal's eyes narrowed and a hiss growled between his crooked jaws. "Everything was fine before you showed up. You are the trouble."
"I haven't been here in a while."
"She was right. You are so fucking selfish."
Maxine's brow furrowed at the accusation. Her eyes spied the bruising under his chin and she scoffed to herself. He didn't know what he was talking about. Things went south. She left. She kept her distance. How was she to blame?
"It started after you left," the behemoth pointed the finger at her. "Just so you know."
"Like you think I should've stayed." Max rolled her eyes at the bouncer and wandered through the bedroom.
"If I had it my way, I'd wish you never met her." The Ithecal walked further into the room after the Rusalka, longingly eyeing the Naerikk's possessions with a sigh. "You didn't deserve her."
"That we can agree on."
"I told myself if I got the chance I would punish you for what you've done." The reptile's claws turned to fists and his body became rigid with tension. "The moment I saw you outside of here...or the moment you gave me justification if I was working. I decided I would make you pay..."
Max froze. She looked to the ceiling and sighed before turning on her heels to face the man. His chest was heaving and she could see the promise in his eyes. He wanted to hurt her. Badly. She dropped a foot back into a combat ready stance. Her hand itched to pull a knife from her waist.
"...But right now..." The Ithecal's head dropped humbly. "...I think I need your help." Max tilted her head. The reptile sighed and threw his hands up, defeated. "We think she's in trouble. Real trouble. Our people here sometimes go missing a trial or two. This is past that. You're the last person I want to ask for help. Believe me. I'm out of options."
"Where is she?" Max asked, voice strained.
"We don't know. I talked to the other guys. Some shady little rat had been scurrying in here during odd hours looking for her. Dealer type, you know?"
"Oh, I know."
"Just before she vanished they were arguing. Loudly."
"About what?"
"Ah, I couldn't make it out. It was behind the door. By the time I got down here he was gone, she'd slammed the door, and it was over."
Max's gaze zoned for a flash before she stormed to the dresser. She threw the drawer open and pulled the familiar wooden box out. When she tossed the box on the bed and shoved the lid open, she took a step back. The box of vices was always full. Sabrina never used enough for it to noticeably dwindle unless Max was around. The dancer was a casual user. Very casual. But this box was...
"It's empty." The Ithecal stated the obvious. "It's never empty."
"Who does she talk to here?"
"Me."
"No. If that were true and someone was stressing her, she would've confided in you about this. Who the fuck else does she talk to?"
"Mindy." The Ithecal rubbed at his bruised chin. "I wouldn't say they talk but Mindy is a nosy little thing, and she's been awfully quiet since Sabrina vanished. Won't meet my eyes either or talk about Sabrina at all. They used to get into it when Sabrina caught Mindy eavesdropping on people now and then. Room directly across the hall."
"She won't talk to you?"
"I've tried. She plays dumb, won't say a thing. I think she's scared. I'm not really in a position to make her talk either. Conflict of interest with the job and all."
"I fucking am. Move."
The Ithecal didn't so much as lift a finger when the fiery Rusalka stormed past him and threw the bedroom door open. Duty had him spinning after her, but not until she'd already booted open the locked door across the hall into Mindy's room.
"Blast!" a man in the grungiest fedora in Etzos exclaimed from beneath the covers. He popped his head up, righting his stupid hat when it shifted on his round head. A prostitute with a black pixie cut squealed and appeared soon after.
"Ugh," Maxine's ire was delayed with initial disgust. "Get that fucking hat off your head, you fucking creep. A fedora? What the fuck is wrong with you." She ripped it off his head and smacked him with it. "It looks and smells like vomit. Unbelievable." Max turned to Mindy, exasperated. "You really have no gag reflex at all, huh?" Her attention returned to the dumbfounded man in the bed. "If it wasn't obvious, all that was me telling you to get the fuck out of here."
"B-but I paid!" he yelped as he slid from the covers and scampered toward his clothes.
"I don't give a fuck."
The Ithecal reared back as the fleeing man barged through the doors, nearly banging into the reptile's broad chest. The fedora came soaring out after the man but he didn't dare stop to pick it up. He hopped, shoving his legs into his pants while the Ithecal watched him with a bewildered expression.
"Hi, Mindy, you know me?"
Falling Out IV (Adult Forum)
