Winning Texas (19 page)

He thought about Lila Jo and Travis. He
’
d liked her East Texas friendliness and was relieved that she accepted his sexual orientation. You never could tell about native Texans. Some were perfectly okay with gay men and women, but there were still plenty in the Lone Star State who would view him as God
’
s abominable mistake.

He wondered briefly if he should
’
ve spent the rest of Saturday night relaxing with friends instead of trying to track down the strip club king. Travis kidded him about being too serious about his work and he guessed Travis had a point. But Nate regarded his twenties as a time to work hard and lay the groundwork for a good career, rather than getting drunk every night. He
’
d gone to Baylor as an Eagle Scout and semi-devout Baptist, but had come out as a gay man midway through college. He rarely went to church any more, but some of his core Christian values had stuck. He
’
d never say it to his more cynical friends, but he felt he
’
d been put on earth to do something worthwhile. He
’
d settled on journalism as his way to make a difference. He couldn
’
t help but being repelled by all of the nubile flesh he was seeing in the strip clubs. He thought women who stripped in the clubs probably made decent money, but felt sorry that they had to endure crude advances, crass owners and a seamy industry.

He walked into the front foyer, handed a ten-dollar bill to the curvy woman with the punked pink hair at the counter and slid through the black curtains to the main bar and stage area. He took a seat near the front, where a gawky blonde with crooked yellow teeth and a sparkly silver halter was writhing to the end of the band
’
s cover of Justin Timberlake
’
s
“
Sexy Back.
”
The five-member band, playing at the far left of the stage, was energetic and good enough to play in a better venue than a strip club.

The crowd, mostly young blue-collar workers in jeans and T-shirts and a sprinkling of better-dressed older men, was mildly appreciative, but not bowled over, by the dancer, he deduced from the paltry amount of bills left on the catwalk or tucked into her bikini bottom. The band
’
s guitar player, a tall, muscular guy with a pirate-like black beard, announced a fifteen-minute break.

Nate ordered his fourth Dos Equis of the night and took stock of the increasingly ebullient crowd. To his surprise, he honed in on the unmistakable widow
’
s peak and cold eyes of Kyle Krause, talking intently to a young blonde at an unobtrusive corner table. Nate had spotted Krause with his girlfriend, Juliana Souza, from a distance over the last few weeks and he knew that the woman at the table wasn
’
t her. The blonde had on heavy eye makeup, tight jeans and a clingy red top, but somehow she still looked awfully young to be inside a strip club. Nate saw that she was tall and solidly put together, with large breasts that looked real
–
instead of the enhanced bosoms he mostly saw on the clubs
’
catwalks. Who was she? Juliana
’
s replacement or was Krause interviewing new topless talent?

He decided he
’
d better take advantage of his luck at finding the mogul. He walked casually over to Krause
’
s table and caught his eye. The blonde
’
s big blue eyes widened in surprise
–
and something like fear.

“
Good evening, Mr. Krause,
”
he said, putting out his hand.
“
Nate Hardin from the
Houston Times
. I
’
ve been trying to catch up with you.
”

Krause
’
s stare flicked over him dismissively. He ignored Nate
’
s outstretched hand and Nate saw a menacingly large bouncer headed their way. The employee had a shaved head, long scraggly beard and a snake tattoo crawling up his neck.

“
It
’
s all right, Bobo,
”
he told the bouncer.
“
I
’
ll handle this.
”

Bobo walked away, but stood at the black curtain watching.

“
I know who you are,
”
Krause said.
“
Seen you at a few of my clubs and I
’
m tired of you stalking me.
”

“
I
’
m just another curious customer,
”
Nate said.
“
I want to interview you about your clubs and their place in Houston
’
s topless industry. I
’
ve left three messages
…”

“
Why would I talk to you? The
Times
hates me and my clubs.
”

“
I don
’
t think that
’
s true,
”
Nate said.
“
The paper
’
s written about a couple of police actions involving your clubs. But that
’
s just normal police beat coverage.
”

The girl hastily got up from the table, avoiding their eyes. She murmured an excuse and headed off in the direction of the restroom. Nate thought she looked like she was about to throw up.

“
That
’
s not Juliana, your girlfriend,
”
Nate said.
“
Seems a little young to be in a strip club. Who is she?
”

Krause stood up. His muscled body loomed over Nate, who held his ground.

“
Listen up, Hardin,
”
Krause said.
“
You
’
re welcome to look around all you want, but don
’
t bother my friends or employees. If you still have questions, you can call me during office hours. Understand?
”

“
Yeah. I still want to interview you,
”
Nate said.
“
We
’
re writing a story about your clubs and you
’
ll be in it
–
one way or another.
”

“
I
’
ll think about it,
”
Krause said. He handed Nate a business card and sat down again.

“
Hey, just call me,
”
Nate said.
“
I
’
ll make sure you
’
re treated fairly.
”

He walked out of the crowded room, back through the dark curtain, and into the foyer. The club had a glassed-in store and he decided to duck in for a while to think about his next move. He pretended to study the penis-shaped vibrators in pink and black, the metal handcuffs and other ridiculous-looking sex toys under the glass counter, and slowly sifted through racks of flashy lingerie.

“
Girls really like those red teddies,
”
the middle-aged, chunky woman behind the counter said.
“
Looking for something for your sweetie pie?
”

“
No, ma
’
am. Just browsing. What does Kyle Krause buy?
”

“
I
’
ve never seen him buy anything,
”
she smiled.
“
But you
’
d better believe his girlfriend is the one who decides what to order.
”

He chatted with the friendly woman for a while, trying to learn something more about Kyle and Juliana, but although she was eager to talk, she didn
’
t have much to reveal. He looked at his watch: it was getting close to 1 a.m. Might as well go home.

Outside, the strip center parking lot had mostly emptied. Should he hang around and hope Krause and his mystery girl would come out in a friendlier mood? Probably not, he thought. It wouldn
’
t do to press his luck. He
’
d call him on Monday.

He walked behind the strip center toward his car parked in the shadowy overflow lot. He leaned over his car door as he searched his pockets for his keys. As he fumbled, a hand came up noiselessly behind him brandishing a long metal tool. The tool struck the back of his head a few times, its metal flashing in the dim light. Nate felt the first blow, but couldn
’
t do anything before the second one came. He went down heavily and knew nothing more.

CHAPTER 19

Annie was lost in a dream, or so she thought. She heard a buzzing and a rackety clattering that wouldn
’
t stop. She opened her eyes cautiously and spotted her cell phone vibrating on top of her antique cherry bureau. She sprang up quickly and winced as she rushed to catch the phone. Her head was vibrating too, from too many glasses of chardonnay she
’
d drunk with Matt last night. He
’
d come over for dinner, but it had turned into an extended cocktail hour that had led to her bedroom. He
’
d left around midnight because he was on duty early today.

“
Hello. Hello?
”
She said into the phone, hearing breathing and what sounded like a suppressed sob.
“
Who is it?
”

“
It
’
s Travis,
”
said a voice so low that she hardly recognized the
Times
’
police reporter.

Wide awake now and alarmed, she said,
“
Travis, what
’
s wrong?
”

“
I
’
m calling about Nate,
”
he said in a quavering voice.
“
He
’
s dead. He was found in a parking lot at a Texas Girls club on the Gulf Freeway.
”

“
No, that can
’
t be true,
”
she said, her mind reeling.
“
What happened?
”

“
I don
’
t know much yet, but Matt Sharpe is headed out there. Can you come?
”

“
I
’
ll meet you there in twenty minutes.
”

She put down her phone, sat on the bed unsteadily and burst into tears. She
’
d loved the energy, intelligence and go-for-broke enthusiasm of the skinny reporter with the wild curly hair. He was only twenty-five. How could this have happened? Was she to blame for assigning him to investigate topless clubs? How would she ever tell his parents?

She swallowed three aspirins, her signature cure for a bad hangover, and got into the shower. She didn
’
t bother to wash her hair, just toweled off quickly and threw on jeans, a black T-shirt and sandals. As promised, she got to the club
’
s parking lot in twenty minutes. Since it was barely 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning, there were no customers around, just a few blue-and-white police cars. She
’
d tried Matt on his mobile before leaving the house, but it was busy.

Travis, disheveled in shorts and a wrinkled shirt, was waiting when she opened the car door. He hugged her closely for a moment and she could feel his body trembling. At twenty-seven, she thought, he
’
d never experienced death, especially of a beloved friend. Unfortunately, she had.

“
The cops are in the back parking lot,
”
he said.

They walked behind the building and ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. Matt was at the scene, as she expected. He stood in front of the covered gurney writing on a notepad. Several other officers and technicians were talking and writing. They looked askance at Annie and Travis until Sharpe acknowledged them with a solemn nod. Annie saw Nate
’
s mud-spattered blue pickup parked in the lot and had to blink back tears. The young reporter always said he
’
d never seen the purpose of a carwash, arguing that because of Houston
’
s weather and pollution, his pickup always would be dusty or caked with mud.