Page 15 of In the Nick of Time
After adjusting Swanson’s outfit so that he looked less like a hit man and more like a Mafia Daddy—there was a fine line, and it had to do with hair—they’d taken an Uber to the club, even though it didn’t seem that far from the hotel. Nick still didn’t know what they were doing since Swanson hadn’t been terribly communicative during the long drive, made longer by a pileup on the highway outside of town.
It probably hadn’t helped that Nick had slept for most of the drive after doing his best to irritate Swanson with factoids about aging. What could he say? He almost always fell asleep on road trips unless he was the driver. And clearly Nick was never going to be the driver while he and Agent Swanson worked together.
They’d finally made it past the bouncer guarding the portal. Someone even squeezed Nick’s ass, which gave him a sense of satisfaction. Especially when Swanson—acting his part, Nick supposed—growled at the squeezer.
The Ace of Clubs was in some ways a typical gay club but, equally obviously, it was one that many folks enjoyed, and all were welcome—after waiting in the line. After all, in Vegas,money was the most common language, with appearance as the second.
He’d spotted “kids” who couldn’t be more than twenty-one waiting in line and even a lone woman who just waltzed past everyone to head inside without so much as anexcuse me. She had to be eighty-five and wore a bright blue tracksuit with bedazzled flowers all over it. If Nick were her age, he might have worn a sequined suit, too. As long as you could pay for your drinks and bets, no one cared about your age or orientation.
Mirrored balls hung from the ceiling and strobe lights flashed. For fuck’s sake, Sade was even playing over the sound system when they finally made it past the door. A large dance floor sat at the back of the space. Tall tables separated the floor from a glittering bar stocked with every alcohol known to humankind. The tables were spaced around evenly for dancers and watchers to take breaks and drink the night away.
“Are there gaming tables here?” he asked. Nick assumed there were since the place was The Ace of Clubs, but he couldn’t figure out where.
“In the back. A few rooms past the door in the left corner.”
Surreptitiously, Nick glanced toward the corner. It looked like any other normal door, but then again, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. A big sign that said, “Danger to all who enter here”? The older woman he’d noted before and a couple of other club-goers were all heading for the entrance to the gaming room.
“Why are we here again?”
Agent Swanson hadn’t actually told him. Maybe he expected Nick to read his mind.
“Missing SPAM agents.”
“They came here for fun and games?”
“We know this is where they were all last seen.”
“Okay.” Nick looked around at the writhing bodies. The music had changed from Sade to something Nick didn’t recognize. “And what am I supposed to do?”
Swanson stared at him pointedly, then out toward the dance floor. Nick followed his gaze, a feeling of foreboding washing over him.
“I’m supposed to what? Get myself kidnapped? This is my best clubbing outfit! I’m not made of money. These jeans would be impossible to replace!” Foreboding was replaced by outrage. “Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes.”
“Is this the in charge thing again?”
“This is, I am the senior agent.”
“Senior Fucking Citizen. You get out there and dance.” Nick huffed. “Look at all the twinks ogling you. You’d be picked to the bones in seconds.”
“That’s really not what we’re aiming for here.”
“Oh?” Nick felt his nostrils flare. “We’re aiming for… what? Missing twink found dead? I don’t think so.”
“Just get out there and start dancing,” Doug said in a low, supposed-to-be-scary voice. “I’ll be right here keeping my eye on you. And one of us needs to look like we’re having fun.”
Nick was not fazed. “Not unless you dance with me. And I need alcohol. I can’t just go out there and flash all my moves.”
He had no moves, but Swanson didn’t need to know that. Nick was more of a freestyle dancer. Flailing Man was his favorite.
“If I buy you a drink, will you get your ass out there?”
“If you buy me a drink, I will bust a move,” Nick conceded.
Swanson waved over one of the scantily clad servers. Nick was pretty sure the guy who all but ran to their table had been eyeing Swanson since the moment they’d walked in, but he was oblivious to the attention. Even Nick had to admit that, for allthe crap he’d been giving him, the agent looked incredible in the black Dior suit he’d finally put on. Very commanding, very Bond.
“Helloooo, welcome to The Ace of Clubs. My name is Sven,” the server greeted Swanson, pointedly ignoring Nick. “We haven’t seen you here before.” The twinky server did a little eye-widening thing at the word seen, making Nick irrationally want to punch him in his too-perfect mouth.
