Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
As we approached, doormen pushed open the wooden doors and—
Wow. The place was one huge room with a beautiful, vaulted wooden roof that reflected the thumping dance music back down until it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. The bar was a long slab of glass, lit up from within so it glowed with an ethereal light, and in front of it was a sea of Chicago’s young and beautiful: chisel-jawed guys in suits and women who must be models in shining, colorful outfits: suddenly, the cyan, sparkly dress Jen had persuaded me into made sense. The whole place was misted with smoke and lit up cobalt blue by lasers. I looked down at the floor: huge slabs of stone, worn smooth by time. That’s when I realized the place used to be a church: there were marks where they’d ripped the pews out.
Something scratched at the back of my brain, a ghost of a memory, but I’d had at least two Porn Star Martinis too many to figure it out.
“Isn’t this place great?” asked Jen, grinning. And it was, classy and cool without being intimidating.
There were big, round tables made of burnished copper and as soon as we sat down at one, a waiter came over and took our drinks order.
Jen and I looked at each other and our eyes locked. It still felt like our friendship was cracked...but she’d put the tension aside for tonight to give me a great time and I loved her for that. She grabbed my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine, and the diamond on my engagement ring flashed blue and silver in the laser light. “I still can’t believe it,” she said slowly. “He must be quite a guy, for you to fall this fast.”
I swallowed. “Yeah,” I managed. “He really is.” The last time we’d had this conversation, in the Italian restaurant, I’d had to lie about how I felt about Radimir. Now I wasn’t lying...and in some ways that scared me even more because I had no idea if he loved me back.
The waiter returned. That was fast! But his tray was empty. “Ladies,” he announced, “my boss has told me to upgrade you to our VIP area. If you’ll follow me?”
We all gaped at each other and then fell into line behind him. I was last and as I got my crutches under my arms and set off; I saw a guy watching us from the podium where a preacher once stood. He was in his late twenties, lean, with his hair shaved down to stubble, and he was wearing a sleek, white suit. He must be the boss who upgraded us. I gave him a nod of thanks, still not understanding why.
The waiter showed us to a flight of wooden stairs at the back of the room and down a dark hallway to the organ loft. The organ was still there, a huge thing with silver pipes that stretched up to the ceiling. The rest of the space was filled with black velvet couches and armchairs, and thick glass had been installed so that we could look down onto the main room, but the sound was damped down enough that we could talk. There were even velvet drapes that could be pulled if you wanted privacy. Another waiter arrived with our drinks.
“See, this is how we should roll,” said Jen, falling into one of the couches.
“Do they think we’re someone else?” asked Luna, sounding worried.
“It’s fine,” said Sadie. “If someone asks you for an autograph, just smile and do a squiggle.”
The door opened and the guy in the white suit strutted in. “Ladies! Having a good time?” He spoke with some accent I’d never heard before, metered and precise, with a hard edge. That memory scratched again, but I still couldn’t recall it.
“Yes!” Jen told him. “Thank you!”
Two more men filed in behind the boss. Their suits were black, and they had the heavy build of bouncers, but there weren’t the guys we’d seen on the door.
The boss gave us a big, mocking grin as he looked around at the four of us. “We didn’t know we were being visited by someone so important…”
Alarm bells began to ring in my head.
He looked right at me. “...Miss Hanford. Or, soon, Mrs. Aristov.”
Too late, the memory clicked into my brain, sharp and clear. The Armenians. They bought a fancy bar as a base. A place called Worship.
Worship. A bar made out of a deconsecrated church. Jen had unknowingly brought us into the home of one of Radimir’s enemies.
I fumbled for my watch. My hands were suddenly sweaty but I managed to twist the bezel a full turn. Nothing happened. Did it work? “We’re leaving,” I said, getting to my feet.
The boss reached into his jacket and brought out a switchblade. The blade popped out with a nasty little snkt.