Page 71 of Lady Sings the Blues

In my defense, it’s not my fault. Clint keeps his head shaved bald, and there is just something about a bald head. With his super dark skin and eyes so brown they appear black, he’s the kind of man you stand back and admire with a low, slow, “daammnn, son.”

Which is exactly what I realize I’ve done when he clears his throat and cocks an eyebrow at me with a, “Really?” and laughs at me, shaking his head.

Yes, I’m embarrassed but never let them see you sweat, right?

So I clear my throat right back and ask, “What can I do for you?”

“Jeff and Stella and I are heading out to lunch and wanted to know if we could bring you back anything?” Jeff and Stella are the bartenders. They’re here setting up the bar in the most ergonomic placement. Seeing as I know nothing about bartending, I figured letting the professionals set up that area was the smartest decision I could make in regards to keeping the booze flowing freely for our customers.

“That’ll be great. What are you guys eating?”

“Mexican.”

“Carnitas. Bring me back carnitas.”

“Got it, boss lady. Shep will be on in fifteen. If there’s any trouble until he gets here, just call.”

“I can’t assume we’ll have any trouble in the fifteen minutes you’re gone. Boss is just overly protective.” Even though the club’s not open for business yet, Beau had the bouncers come in to keep an eye on us womenfolk because apparently we can’t keep an eye out for ourselves.

“Sirena works in an office with security guards. Don’t take chances with her, either. Let me tell you somethin’ about men, when we have somethin’ worth protectin’, we protect it. Any and every way we can.”

One more thing to like about the man. “That’s really sweet. I can’t wait to meet Sirena.”

His face actually darkens with a blush. “I don’t know sweet, but it’s true. Anyway, carnitas it is.Right.” Then he pats the door a couple times signaling the end of our conversation and withdraws from my office leaving me alone again.

My guess, Beau probably thought getting me sorted out this morning would take longer than it had, so he didn’t schedule another bouncer to come in until after lunch because he probably figured he’d be here. But with our earlier—erm, activities—I think he probably forgot because there’s no way Mr. Overprotective would ever leave me without a big, strong man to keep me company.

My cell phone rings, startling me. I don’t recognize the number so let it go to voicemail. It rings a second, and then again. Same number. Before letting it go to voicemail the third time, I press the green button to answer.

“Tisk,tisk,tisk. I told you not to go out,” The deep, distorted voice on the other end says to me before I even say hello. “There are consequences, Elise.”

Freaked, I hang up right away. The phone rings one more time, but I don’t answer. Resting my forehead to the edge of the desk, I breathe in and out slowly to calm myself down. This pranking business is getting out of hand. Tommy, which means Beau, should probably hear about it. And he’s going to be pissed I didn’t tell him sooner.

The club is supposed to be empty except for me since I sent the waitresses and dancers home a couple of hours ago, and now my bouncer and bartenders have gone to lunch. When I hear a noise, like someone walking around, I glance down at my clock anxious to meet Shep, and thankful for him to have gotten here early. So I smooth my hair down to make sure I look presentable, and shove up from my desk moving out to the main room of the club to go introduce myself.

The space is empty.

I go through checking all the rooms off of the main, starting with where employees clock in. Empty.

This is so strange, I know I heard walking. When I cross back through the main to get to my office, that’s when I see a box, a wrapped gift about the size of a shoebox. I hadn’t noticed it during my first sweep which gives me an immediate unsettled feeling. And I have the feeling I’m playing right into someone’s hands, but I have to see what’s in that box.I have to. Damn my insatiable curiosity.

Slowly as I lift the lid, at first it doesn’t register because really, who expects to see this kind of thing in a gift box? But once my brain makes the connection, I scream, drop the lid and stumble backward.

Do not hyperventilate. Do not hyperventilate.

No matter how badly I want to heed my own advice, the fact remains there is a heart in the box. Who expects to see a heart, a real live heart, in a box? And since I don’t know enough about anatomy, I have no clue if it’s human or animal. All I do know is whoever left the box left a note inside.

You cut out my heart, now I cut yours.

The box stays, I run. Back to my office immediately, dialing 911. Dispatch tells me to lock my office door until officers can get to me, which sounds like a plan. She stays on the line as I’m obviously scared out of my pants. And since this is a smallish town, it doesn’t take long until the shrill of police sirens can be heard outside.

From there it’s even less time when I hear Tommy call out, “Elise? Elise you here?”

Safety. What a feeling. I could cry I’m so happy. Unlocking and throwing open the door, I yell, “In here, Tommy.” Then end the call with dispatch.

Four uniforms stand in the main room of the club. Tommy reaches me, wrapping me first in a friend hug before ever going into cop mode. “In the box,” I whisper into his chest.

This would be when he morphs from Tommy Doyle friend to Tommy Doyle cop. Using gloves, which I did not use, he lifts the lid on the box muttering, “shit” when he gets a good look at what’s inside. “Why’re you here by yourself? What was Boss thinking letting you here alone?” And I can tell he’s not really asking me but more speaking his frustration out loud. Until he’s speaking them into the receiver of his cell. Beau’s booming meltdown comes through loud and clear.

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