The Art of Sin (26 page)

     Grady felt a twinge of guilt for walking away from Doug’s service, but he figured his friend wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

     “Geoff has had his hooks in her for a long time,” Grady disclosed. “He’s been holding money over her head to keep her with him. Son of a bitch even had me arrested for assault and battery. Then he promised to drop the charges against me, if Al gave him what he wanted.”

     Matt frowned, making his dark eyes appear slightly menacing. “Which was?”  

     “To make her stop keeping tenants in her home. He’s agreed to make up for her losses, but she has to give up boarding strippers, and me.”

     “To think I let that man work on my wife’s tits.” Matt paused and grinned at Grady. “Did you assault him?”

     “I broke his nose,” Grady confessed with a smug smirk.

     “Hence the dark sunglasses. I noticed he hasn’t taken them off since he arrived.” Matt took a moment while keeping his attention on the funeral party. “Is her hooking up with the doctor why you turned down my offer to headline at my club?”
     “I can’t stay in New Orleans. I can’t watch her throw her life away like this. She doesn’t love him, but—”

     “She will stay with him to protect you,” Matt inserted.

     “I offered to get the money to pay off Geoff. I told her I would risk going to prison, but she would hear none of it.” Grady shook his head. “You know how stubborn she is. Don’t get me wrong, I would stay and fight, if I thought I had a chance with her, but I know I don’t. She won’t talk to me or return any of my phone calls.”    

     Matt peered over at Al. “Maybe I can help.” 

     “How?” Grady demanded, intrigued.

     “I know somebody that might not be too happy about Handler’s financial arrangement with Allison.” Matt shrugged his slender shoulders, placing his hands in his black trouser pockets. “They may even want to put a stop to it.”

     Grady’s blue eyes explored Matt’s face. “Who do you know?”

     Beverly’s intermittent bursts of sobbing made Matt look toward the mourners gathered at the burial site.

     “Let me make a phone call or two. I’ll let you know what I find out later at the club.” Matt gave Grady a pensive side-glance. “You’re dancing tonight, right?’

     Grady nodded his head. “I’ll be there.”

     “Good.” Matt returned his gaze to the funeral party. “Let me get back to Beverly before I get a lecture in the car on the way home about how I abandoned her at her lover’s funeral.”

     Grady took a step toward the ongoing funeral. “That sounds a bit … disturbing, Matt.”

     Matt lightly slapped his hand on Grady’s shoulder. “Hey, welcome to my marriage.”

Chapter 22

     The Flesh Factory was packed. The women filling the pit were unusually rowdy for a Thursday night. Lingering clouds of smoke hovered in the air as catcalls and whistles perforated the eardrums of many of the bartenders and dancers catering to the demanding crowd. The waitstaff of men, dressed in bow ties and briefs, had to fight to keep their clothes on amid the zealous, and very inebriated, customers. 

     After doing a celebratory bump and grind with a bashful, blonde bride-to-be, Grady quickly fled the stage, ignoring heated demands for encores. Toweling off while he toted his tuxedo costume across his right arm, he passed Lewis in the hallway leading to the stage.

     “They’re ruthless tonight,” he warned the winged man.

     Lewis rolled his eyes. “I heard.” He motioned to their dressing room door. “There’s a Detective Villere waiting for you. Nick showed him back to our dressing room.”

     Grady’s robust grin fell from his face. “When did he get here?”

     “About five minutes after you went on.”

     Grady quickened his step down the hallway, anxious to see what the detective wanted. He had heard nothing from the man in days, and hoped he had news on Doug’s assailant.

     When Grady stepped in the room, he found the round detective eyeing his silver-sequined G-string laid out on the dresser next to his bright silver costume for his second show.

     “That don’t scratch your balls?” the detective posed, pointing to the G-string.

     “Yes, but we must suffer for our art,” Grady extolled as he secured a white towel around his waist. 

     The detective’s hazel eyes scrutinized Grady’s washboard abs and defined, muscular arms. “You guys stay in really good shape.”

     “Sort of have to be in this business.”

     Detective Villere snorted. “Some business. My niece told me about these places, but I’ve never been in one. Strip clubs with women, I’ve been in plenty of times, but never with men.”

     Grady shut his dressing room door. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

     Detective Villere’s eyes followed Grady across the room as he went to put his black tuxedo costume down on a chair by the dresser. “Are you still willing to ID the kid who shot your friend in a line-up?”

     Grady froze, still holding his tuxedo jacket. “You found him?”

     “We think we’ve found him, but I need your positive identification to make sure. We tracked the gun through some snitches we have in a few of the local drug gangs. They said the gun was passed off to a kid looking to join up.” Detective Villere came closer to Grady. “Part of the initiation was to shoot some gay guys in the Quarter. I guess he thought the two of you were a couple.”

     “Why gay men?”

     “Who knows?” The detective shrugged. “I’ve heard of drug gang initiations where they had to rape a woman, shoot a cop, or kill some random target. I’ve been doing this for twenty years, and there are times when things I see on the street still shock me.”

     Grady tossed his black jacket on the chair. “If I identify the shooter, then what?”

     Detective Villere sighed and turned his eyes to the floor. “Then there is a trial, or in this case a court hearing, because our suspect is a juvenile. He’s fifteen.”

     “Fifteen?” Grady bellowed.

     “I’ve had twelve-year-olds up on murder one. Their age don’t matter much when you’re dealing with drug-related crimes.”

     “Will I have to come back to the city to testify for that hearing?”

     Detective Villere appeared surprised. “You’re leaving?”

     Grady turned to the black tuxedo costume. “I’ll be moving on to Atlanta next week for a three-month gig.”

     “You move around a lot?”

     Grady reached for a hanger dangling from a hook in the wall. “Part of the job.”

     “Just stay in touch. If you ID this kid, we’ll need you to come back for a hearing. Because he’s a juvenile, if he’s found guilty, he’ll be sent to a juvenile detention facility until he’s twenty-one.”             

     Grady snorted with disbelief as he hung up his jacket. “Doug dies and all he gets is six years. Seems like pretty worthless justice, if you ask me.”

     Detective Villere moved toward the door. “Justice was never meant to satisfy the innocent, just punish the guilty.” He opened the door and glanced back at Grady. “Can you come by the Eighth District Police Station, around two tomorrow afternoon, to look at a few mug shots?”

     “Yeah.” Grady nodded. “I’ll be there.”

     Just as Detective Villere was about to walk out the door, Matt appeared in the hallway outside.

     “Hey, Chris. You here for the booze or the broads?” Matt joked, taking the detective’s outstretched hand.

     “Neither, Matt.” He jutted his thumb at Grady. “Just having a word with my witness. How’s Beverly doing?”

     “You know Bev, crying her eyes out and shopping to feel better.” Matt chuckled. “Adele and the kids all right?”

     “Great,” the detective replied. “Thanks for asking.” Detective Villere paused. “We’ll talk soon,” he added, shook Matt’s hand and headed down the hall.

     Matt came into the dressing room and closed the door.

     “I’m confused.” Grady obstinately put his hands on his hips. “What was all that between you and the detective? I thought you said he was out to get you.”

     Matt nodded. “He is, but we’re civil with each other outside of that. His wife and I dated in high school, so I can’t be a total asshole to him. Adele and I are still good friends.”

     Grady was bowled over. “I can’t believe this. You actually dated his wife?”

     “Years ago, before I got into working the clubs. That’s the way of things in New Orleans. Everybody knows everybody.”

     Grady shook his head, trying to absorb the absurdity of the situation. “No wonder Suzie thought this was a weird town. Are any criminals actually convicted of anything here?”

     “All the time. But it’s usually because they were sloppy, stupid, or didn’t contribute enough to the DA’s re-election campaign.”

     Grady cocked one eyebrow at Matt. “Which I’m sure you do.”

     “Every time any politician in this town asks for money for their election, I contribute. I would be a fool not to. Over the years, I’ve learned to pay the right people, so I can operate my businesses without any problems. It may not be the way things are done in other cities, but it is the way things have been done since New Orleans began.”

     Grady began to press the Velcro seams on the sides of his tuxedo pants together. “Maybe it’s good I’m getting out of here. Imagine my morals if I stayed.”

     “I need to talk to you about your leaving,” Matt declared, coming up to Grady. “Remember when I told you I know some dancers that might be interested in being represented by you?”

     “Yes, but that was when I was going to stay.”

     “I know, but I spread the word around. I’ve got quite a few dancers looking for a new agent. I thought I might see if you’re still interested.”

     “You know why I’m leaving, Matt.”

     “I predict that things are getting ready to change for you. You might want to stick around for a while.”

     Grady dropped his tuxedo pant leg, letting the material fall to the chair. “What did you do?”

     “I made a phone call.”

     “To whom?”

     “My landlord, Beth Brown. I told her what was going on between Handler and Al, and she wasn’t too happy about it.”

     “What’s her interest in their relationship?”

     “Beth is Handler’s wife. Her family bought up a bunch of properties in the French Quarter, years ago, when they owned the big dairy. One of the buildings they own ….” He pointed to the floor.

     “Son of a bitch,” Grady whispered. “Handler gave me the impression his wife knew about his affairs.”

     “Knew about Allison, yes, but she didn’t know about the car, the loan he cosigned for her, or the truth about why he was beaten up. The good doctor just said he was jumped by the jealous boyfriend of a patient in the parking lot of his medical building. Considering Handler’s wife is the money behind the marriage, she wasn’t too pleased that her family money was being spent to keep Geoff’s mistress in a manner way beyond what they had agreed on.”

     “Agreed on?”

     “It seems Mrs. Handler gave Geoff some ground rules for keeping his mistresses, discretion being one of the biggest. Geoff was supposed to keep his relationship with Allison out of public view. When I saw them together at the funeral and told Beth about how attentive Geoff was, she became very angry. It did not take much to get her to start telling me all about her real relationship with her husband.”

     Grady briefly pondered the information, but then he picked up his tuxedo pants and began to reattach the breakaway seems. “All of that might change Geoff’s relationship with Allison, but it won’t change anything for me.”

     “What are you talking about? It means he’ll probably stop seeing her to appease his wife; otherwise, it will cost him.”

     “I’m glad Allison will be out from under his thumb,” Grady commented, never taking his eyes off his costume. “I’ll still be heading out of town next week.”

     “What about the guys I know looking for an agent? Aren’t you interested in seeing if you can make a career change?”

     Grady dropped the fabric. He stood up and leveled his eyes on Matt. “I’m a male stripper, Matt. I don’t know the first thing about being an agent. I would probably just screw it up, like everything else in my life.”

     Matt took a step closer to him. “You’re a lot like Allison, did you know that? I used to watch her and Cassie, whenever Clarence brought them to one of his gigs. I used to sit them down at the bar and make them Shirley Temples, only Cassie would pretend her drink was something exotic, like a rum punch. She would wave to every customer in the joint and chat up anyone who would listen.” He shook his head, smiling. “Not Allison, though. She would sit on her barstool and watch her sister, never saying a word. I asked her once why she never talked to anyone in the bar, and you know what she told me? ‘Because who would want to talk to me? Cassie’s the interesting one.’ Ever since then I’ve always called her Allie Cat, because she would sit and watch everyone with her big gray eyes.”

     Grady scowled, seeming unconvinced. “Nice story, Matt, but Allison and I are nothing alike.”

     “Yes, you are,” Matt countered. “You both think you’re not deserving of happiness. Allison attached herself to a married man and was willing to give you up, because she thought she didn’t deserve to you.” Matt waved a bony hand down Grady’s physique. “Now you’re going to run away from the one woman who made you feel like you were worth something. When you were with her, you saw yourself as a hell of a lot more than a male stripper. And you know what? You are worth something, Grady. You just had to have someone else wake you up from this coma you’ve been walking around in. Now that your eyes are open, you can’t go back. You have to try to be that man, the one you always dreamed of being.”

     Grady shook his head. “She doesn’t want me. She made that very clear.”

     “She doesn’t want to want you. I discovered something else about Allie Cat all those years ago. She’s stubborn as hell. Sometimes stubborn people need to be made to realize what they have before it packs up and leaves town.”

     “Nice try, Matt. But I’m going. We’re over.”

     “Personally, I think you’re making a big mistake, Grady.” Matt turned for the door. “But what do I know? I’m just a skin man, not a matchmaker.” Matt opened the door and walked into the hallway.

     Grady ran his hand over his chin, thinking of Al. He had moments of weakness where he longed to see her again, but wasn’t sure if he should. Their last encounter had left him bruised and broken. Another might destroy him for good. 

    
Get out while you still can
, reason counseled.
You’ve got nothing left for you in New Orleans
.

     In the pit of his gut, he feared that his irksome inner voice was right. The only question that remained was why was his heart still not convinced?