Harper just smirks, “Let’s start with the cocaine, we can get to the others later on.” She reaches into her bag and holds up the little baggie with the Jester emblem stamped on the outside. Across from me Sadie shifts in position atop the desk, pulling her legs under her. I’m not the only one that tracked the movement, Wade staring at Sadie until she nods, letting him know she’s okay for right now.
I can feel my heartbeat pick up looking at the reminder of the mockery for what Harper has created. I take one step closer to the scene before me, halting when I hear a rustling under my shoe and look down to see where it came from.
Plastic sheeting.
I knew she wasn’t expecting tonight to go well, but the contingency on the ground speaks volumes. It could be a scare tactic, a warning to Bob that we are prepared for whatever the outcome is, the result depending entirely on how willing he is to behave.
I don’t know why I’m trying to lie to myself, this isn’t a scare tactic, it’sefficient clean up.
Suddenly, her hesitation at my entry into the room is crystal clear. Before tonight, she could have passed off anything done in her name as the actions of others. Maybe she gave a direction, maybe she suggested a tactic, but at the end of the day, it was someone else doing the deed. She is losing her cover tonight, laying it on the line for my scrutiny. I think she gets her hands dirty more often than not, but she’s not hiding it from me this time.
I’ve seen worse.
I take another step closer, not interfering, but letting her know I’m here. I’m at her back, always.
“Oh, that little thing? The Jester has a whole court pushing it through the city. Good shit too, want a little taste?” he sayswith a wink. Cocky little shit. If I hit himjustright, I think I can get the whole eye to swell shut.
Harper doesn’t respond, but this time her smile melts away, the corners tight into a thin line. Not happy, not mad,numb.
She walks around him to the desk, putting her purse down, but taking one last item out before she does. I can’t make out what it is, but when she shifts her hand and walks back to Bob, something catches the light, glinting metal gripped between her fingers.
“Bob, do you know the story behind this building?”
“Bitch, I don’t know where we are.”
She ignores him, continuing the story.
“This building used to be a Cigar Club. It was exclusive to high powered men, and men only. It was where backroom deals took place, politicians taking bribes, City officials expediting or revoking permits, it was where businesses thrived, and empires fell.”
She opens her palm to show off the cigar cutter in her hand, placing her thumb and forefinger into the openings at each end.
“I wonder if your Jester was a member,” she looks pointedly at him as she brings her fingers closer together, hearing the metallic snick of the blades passing each other in the small circle.
Bob swallows thickly, watching the blades in her hands as she gives another test clip. “I wouldn’t know, never met the Jester,” he answers.
“But you know who they are, you know who gives the orders, who pulls the strings of this discount court. Or are you not high enough up in the ranks to get that information?” asks Harper, taunting him, bruising his ego before his body. She circles Bob slowly, laying her empty hand on his shoulder, caressing across his back and neck as she moves.
His nostrils flare at the dig, but he holds his composure.
“This Cigar Club didn’t have any concrete rules about letting women in, but it had never been done before. They didn’t want to complicate things, and us silly women always seemed to make thingsmessy. See, I needed those connections to makeCirquehappen, to get the permits and licenses I needed, to have little zoning issues overlooked and the fire department to play nice. I needed to show them I was worth letting in to theirspecial little clubhouse, that I could play the game as well as them. I bribed and bought my way in, reaching out to their secretaries, wives, mistresses, favorite hookers, you name it. I played dirty to get people what they most desired, all so I could get a seat at the table. Eventually, I got a letter welcoming me as the newest member of the club. They even sent this cigar cutter, engraved for the momentous occasion.”
She pauses in her story. Her hand now sliding down Bob’s arm as she drops to her knees before him, the fabric of her dress pooling where she kneels. She stops her caress when she reaches his hand, her grip becoming firm.
He looks to where they are connected, and in a split second the silence cracks and chaos pours out.
Bob starts to thrash wildly, trying to yank his hand free of Harper’s hold, but his wrist is strapped so tight to the arm of the chair that the most he can do is pathetically squirm his ass around the seat.
Wade starts to move to the back of Bobs chair to shut him up, but he stops after a step, looking at me before he nods to the scene before us. I nod back, silently thanking him for letting me take this step for her, to show her what I can do.
I walk around Harper and stand at Bobs back, leaning down to curl a hand around his mouth, muffling any screams that might slip out.
Harper smiles at Bob’s attempt to curl his fingers into a fist, gripping his middle finger to lift and separate it from theothers, holding the Cigar Cutter to the tip she asks, “Can you see what they engraved on the cutter for me Bob? What they welcomed me with.”
When he doesn’t respond, I grab his hair with my other hand and shove his head down, so he has nowhere else to look but where she directs.
“Oh, sorry. It’s still too far away, let me move it closer so you can see.” She pushes the cutter further up his finger until it rests against his first knuckle.
“It saysTrophy Bimbo. That’s what they thought of me Bob. It wasn’t my name or the date I became a member. It was a reminder that no matter what strings I pulled to get a seat at the table, I wasn’t welcome to pull up a chair.”