Page 22 of Save Us
I regularly dream that I’m in the sea, with my dad standing over me, watching me drown. That’s how I feel right now.
“No, I don’t,” I croak.
Ruby budges closer still, and I lean my head against her. “I’m here for you,” she whispers.
I can’t reply. I just wrap an arm around her side and hold her close.
“I thought I’d go and see Lydia this weekend,” I say after a while. “Ophelia will look after her, I know that. But she doesn’t know anyone else in Beckdale, and I don’t want her to feel lonely.”
Ruby looks compassionately at me, but that’s the last thing I want. She’s got problems of her own and doesn’t need my family’s on top.
“Can I come too?” she asks after a while.
“To see Lydia?”
Ruby nods. She must sense my surprise, because before I can answer, she hastily adds: “Well, sometime. And only if you want me to.”
“I’m sure Lydia would love that.” I lean back a little to look at Ruby. “And so would I.”
I’d have given anything to spend the rest of the day with Ruby, but there’s something else I have to do today, and it’s far from pleasant.
I park outside Red Heaven and get out. I’m not used to driving myself, but when we got back from Pemwick, Percy called in sick and hasn’t been seen since. I don’t blame him. Dropping a weeping Lydia off at Ophelia’s and then driving back like nothing was wrong can’t have been easy for him either.
I slam the door a bit harder than I need to and walk the few feet to the club entrance. The sun has completely set now, and there’s just a faint red glow on the horizon.
I push the heavy velvet curtain aside and step inside. The familiar powdery, sweet smell fills my nose and presses up againstmy head. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this place sober before. When not under the influence of alcohol, there’s something surreal about the smell, the sight of the poles, the dancers writhing around them in the pinkish-red light. Like a world where I’m a stranger, no longer at home.
“James!” Bear roars from a way off. There’s nobody but him and the dancers in this part of the club, which is hardly surprising as it’s still way early.
I turn and the club owner comes toward me, arms outstretched. His name doesn’t fit his tall, slim physique, or the tailor-made Beaufort suit he’s wearing. “First Cyril and now you. To what do I owe this honor?”
“Bear,” I greet him, holding out my hand. His grip is almost as firm and unyielding as Dad’s. I don’t flinch though. “I need to see Cyril. Where is he?”
A serious expression crosses Bear’s face, although his smile doesn’t slip a millimeter. “He’s in one of the back rooms, having a good time.”
I swallow. “I hope he’s in a fit state to talk to me.”
Bear beckons me through, across the club. “You look grim. What’s he been up to?”
I fix my eyes on the heavy door that leads to the VIP area without giving him an answer.
“You know I won’t have fighting in my club, James,” he continues, his voice deep. “This isn’t the place for settling scores.”
“I’m not planning to get into any fights,” I say.
“Good,” Bear answers curtly, opening the door for me. “He’s right at the back.”
I nod and walk down the corridor toward the area Bear showed me. I have no hesitation in throwing the curtain aside.
Cyril is sitting on a black leather sofa. He looks chilled, head back on his hands, watching the dancer moving to the music in front of him. He watches as she thrusts her hands into her hair and circles her hips. She moves slowly downward…
I clear my throat.
Cyril doesn’t turn to look at me, but I see every muscle in his body tense.
“Linette,” he says, without taking his eyes off the dancer. “Can we take a break?” There’s no intonation in his voice, no hint of emotion.
Linette stops in surprise, but nods as she sees me standing there. She steps off the little dance floor and smiles at me as she passes.
