Patricia Rosemoor - Skin

Paul practically salivated. And Hannah smiled with satisfaction as she gyrated to the music — an imitation of the sex act.

She liked the mastery she had over men. The music ended, and she slid back, her gaze once more roaming the room.

Paul asked, “What are you doing Monday?”

“You tell me,” she said distractedly.

“High tea — very classy, just like you.”

Sighing, she gave him her full attention and wondered how much that would be worth to him. “Then I guess I’ll like it.”

“Afterward, we can come back to my place. Grandmother will be visiting friends at the nursing home.”

Hannah ignored her stomach tightening at being alone with him in that old mausoleum of a building again. Melinda had warned her about going there. She’d said their grandmother was an old bitch from hell and was keeping Paul’s balls for him. Paul was more than a little weird, but so what? A mortician made big bucks, and no way would Hannah turn him down if he wanted to spend more money on her away from the club. A girl needed some good times to get her mind off the bad, and after all, she didn’t actually sleep with him.

“Monday, then,” she murmured.

“I can’t wait.”

Throwing him a kiss, Hannah floated away as if she was in heaven because he’d asked her out.

Then forgot him the minute the next customer waved a wad of money at her.

WHAT NOW?

A bench at the bus stop right across the street from the club gave Lilith a place to sit and think quietly. The street was nearly deserted. Other businesses were closed. All the action was coming from Club Paradise. Bits of music and raised men’s voices drifted to her across the street. Part of her wanted to leave. To get on a bus and forget what she had seen.

But how could she even think of it?

She remembered Hannah as she’d once been. Remembered the days when her sister followed her around, annoying her, amusing her, and above all loving her. They had been each other’s comfort in a household ruled by the devil himself.

No way could she leave, not now, not without meeting the woman. Not without facing her sister and telling her how much she loved and missed her.

She’d lived with guilt for twelve long years. She wouldn’t add another regret to the list.

So Lilith waited until men began to leave, some alone, others in twos and threes, most laughing, enjoying themselves, but some grim as if the entertainment had only reminded them of how empty their lives were.

How empty Hannah’s life must be, she thought.

There were many forms of abuse, including the kind of objectification the dancers tolerated. Whether or not they agreed, the dancers were victims, perhaps not of violent crimes, but victims nonetheless. And who was to say the victimization would stop there? Two women connected with the club had been murdered. Who would be next? The place was dangerous. Surely Hannah realized that.

Lilith made her way back to the box office, where the employee behind the glass was locking up for the night.

“We’re closed.”

“I’m here to meet one of the dancers. Anna Youngheart. Can you get a message to her? Tell her Lilith is here and wants to see her?”

“Look, lady, I’m busy. If you want to hook up with Anna… Well, maybe you’re her type. The dancers leave through the stage door in the alley.”

“When?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have no schedules, okay?”

Lilith noticed a sign she’d missed earlier. WAITRESS WANTED. To replace the one that had been killed?

She went around to the alley and stood there for a moment, trying to decide what to do until a big guy, flushed with drink, approached her.

“Hey, honey, looking for a date?”

Lilith backed away from him, hoping he would leave her alone. “Not interested.”

“How much?”

“I’m not for sale.” She only hoped he didn’t try to make a move on her, or he would end up on the alley pavement with her foot on his throat.

“I know you dancers. I got money enough even for the likes of you.”

Even as she prepared to defend herself, a familiar voice said, “Leave the lady be. She’s with me.”

The big guy practically snarled as he looked over her shoulder, but then he seemed to think better of his attitude and backed off.

Lilith’s pulse was racing as she turned to face Michael Wyndham. “I’m not with you, either,” she said.

“No worries.” He splayed his hands and kept his distance. “I was just trying to do you a favor is all. I thought you needed some backup.”

He really had saved her some discomfort — not that she wouldn’t have been able to take care of herself. “Thanks, then.”

He nodded and turned away, glancing back once at her before disappearing around the corner.

Finding the stage door and settling herself in the shadows on the opposite side of the alley, she didn’t have long to wait. The women exiting the club were something of a surprise. Dressed down, makeup removed, they could be just anyone. The woman next door. She’d been there perhaps for fifteen minutes when a young woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail exited.

Lilith’s pulse began to race. “Hannah?”

The face that turned to her as she stepped out of the shadows was as familiar as her own but was pulled into an expression of distrust.

“What do you want?”

“Hannah, it’s me, Lilith.”

Though she didn’t expect her sister to run into her arms, Lilith was disappointed at the lack of any reaction. Hannah looked at her wide-eyed, the way she used to when she was just a kid. But now there was no adoration. No anticipation. No nothing.

Lilith swept a stiff Hannah into her arms. “I found you. Finally, I found you.”

Hannah pushed her away. “I’m sure you tried real hard. It’s been how long?”

“Years. And I spent them all looking for you.”

Hannah didn’t say anything. She just stared as if she were wondering what to believe.

“Can we get out of here? Go someplace to talk?”

For a breath-holding second, Lilith thought Hannah would refuse. Then her sister shrugged and said, “Yeah, sure. We can go to my place. Car’s over there.”

Over there being a row of diagonal parking spots against the back of the building. Hannah unlocked the door to not just a car but a Jaguar convertible that must have cost enough to pay for a good part of law school.

Tension wired between them as Hannah drove fast and a little too carelessly. Lilith hung onto the handle in the door and prayed they would get to her sister’s place in one piece. When Hannah turned down a dead-end street and pulled up to what looked like an old manufacturing building set along the Chicago River, Lilith asked, “Where are we?” and Hannah said, “Home.”

Home was a conversion. One of only several units in the building. A soft loft of tremendous proportions and with an incredible view of the river. The windows on that side ran floor to ceiling. Lilith looked around her and willed her jaw not to drop. Her own walk-up flat could fit into one corner of the massive double-storied main room. The furnishings were sparse but expensive. Leather upholstery, mahogany furniture, real Oriental rugs.

“We have a dock on the river, too. I’m thinking of getting myself a boat next year,” Hannah said airily. “If I’m still here.”

“The rent on this place must be out of this world.”

“What makes you think I rent it? Because of what I do? I make good money, Lilith. Great money.” She waited a beat. “Yeah, okay, I rent it, but only because I get bored easily and might decide I don’t like things and that I want to move on.”

Undoubtedly the reason she’d been impossible to find.

“What do you like, Hannah?”