“Thank you.”
In her car, she slipped the honey jar into one jacket pocket and the honey cake into the other. Annie wondered what to do next. In spite of Virgil’s apparent
interest, she couldn’t think of anyone but Eric. She wouldn’t stop looking for him, although part of her felt she was being led on some wild goose chase.
She glanced at her watch. It was getting late on a Friday night, and she had no clients. She searched for the card Dita had written Virgil’s address on.
When she found it in the zippered pocket of her purse, she turned it over to locate the woman’s number. Grabbing her cell phone, she dialed and waited.
“Hello, darling!” It was Dita’s voice, bright and full of laughter. “You didn’t get stung, did you?”
Annie rolled her eyes at the phone. Damn Caller I.D. “No. Listen, I have your honey, but I want—”
“I’m on my way out, dear.” Dita’s voice changed. She immediately sounded colder, more distant. Disappointed? Annie frowned at the phone as the woman spoke. “But if you want to talk, meet me at The Styx tonight at ten. Bring my honey!”
“The… Styx?” Annie’s lips felt numb, like she could barely get the words out. “Listen, lady, I can’t keep—”
“It’s an after-hours club, very posh.” Dita went on as if Annie hadn’t spoken at all. “Fourth and Rochester, right on the corner. You can’t miss it. See you tonight!”
Annie blinked as the phone went dead in her hand. Is this worth it? she wondered, flipping the lid closed and tossing the phone onto the seat beside her.
Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel, remembering Eric’s smile in the darkness. The recollection flooded her with warmth, and she sighed. I’ll find you, Eric. I promise. No matter what it takes.
CHAPTER FIVE
The night was cool for May, and Annie stood shivering in the long line.
She wished she’d worn more than just the sheer black blouse with a lacy black bra underneath and a black mini-skirt. It had been ages since she’d gone clubbing, and she had no idea what they wore anymore. Can’t go wrong with black—that was what she’d thought when she pulled on the same soft, knee—high boots she’d worn the night she met Eric. Now that her teeth were chattering and the crowd stretched around the corner of the building, she wasn’t so sure about that. She remembered his hands and mouth on her thighs—how they had shivered for other reasons that night. Not tonight, babe. It’s so damned cold out here, if you licked my thigh, your tongue would stick! She wished she had at least worn a pair of tights!
“Would you like my coat?” The smooth voice behind Annie startled her and she glanced back to see a tall man with a goatee shrugging off the long leather duster he was wearing.
“Oh, no, that’s—” Annie’s protest was met with a wink as he slipped his coat over her shoulders. It was a nice length and covered her to the tops of her boots.
“I insist.” He pulled the collar together under her chin. “You’re shivering like a church mouse, and I don’t really get cold until temperatures drop into single digits.”
The coat cut the chill of the wind instantly and Annie hugged it gratefully around her shoulders. “Thank you. I wasn’t prepared for such a long line.”
He nodded, rolling his eyes. “I think Styx wants to be the Club 54 for the new millennium.”
“Styx…” She looked up at the purple neon sign displayed prominently on the side of the building. “If I remember right, I think my high school graduating class chose ‘Come Sail Away’ as our class song.” He laughed. “No, no… not that Styx…”
“Oh.” Annie flushed. “So much for Kilroy.”
“I think the band named themselves after the original, though.” He chuckled. “You know…the mythical Greek river of death?”
“How festive.” Annie wrinkled her nose and glanced up at the stark letters again.
He winked at her. “Oh, but so very chic and goth and all that stuff.”
“Of course.” She smiled back at him.
“I’m Herman, by the way.” He held out a warm, strong hand at the end of a very well-developed arm Annie couldn’t help admiring as she shook hands with him. He was wearing just a black t-shirt, but didn’t appear cold at all. She met his eyes, which were bright even in the dim light of the streetlamps.
“Herman? As in Munster?” she teased, introducing herself. “I’m Annie.”
“As in Melville, actually. My mother was an English major. At least she didn’t name me Moby… or Dick.” He grinned and she couldn’t help laughing.
“Annie, like the curly redheaded waif?”
She snorted. “My mother would have died before she named me after either a comic strip or a musical. Anne is a family name. All our names are snobbish that way. Chloe and Rebecca, my sisters—those are family names, too.”
“It’s better than Herman.” He nudged her a little as the lined moved up.
Annie shifted nervously, glancing toward the door. “So is this your first time to Styx?”
“Yes.” She admitted it with a shrug. “I really don’t do the club scene. I’m meeting someone here.”
“Boyfriend?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Girlfriend?” Now it was both eyebrows.
She smiled. “No. I’m meeting my boyfriend’s mother. Well, sort of. It’s complicated.”
“Ah, going to dish about him behind his back and all that catty girl stuff, huh?”
Annie snorted. “Not exactly. Although I am trying to get information, I suppose. Dita doesn’t make it easy.”
“Dita?” The look on Herman’s face showed genuine surprise.
“Do you know her?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I think everyone knows her.”
“I’m beginning to believe that.” Annie rolled her eyes. “How do you know her?” It was a long shot, but maybe if he knew Dita, he would know Eric, too.
“I would say we’re just casual acquaintances. So Dita invited you to the Styx…” Herman leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms, and she could see the faint edge of a black tattoo under the sleeve of his shirt. He tilted his head at her and smiled. “Styx is a little more exclusive than other clubs, you know.”
She frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Well, for starters, not everyone gets in.”
His words made her heart drop and she swallowed. “Really?” They edged forward and Annie saw several people being turned away at the front of the line as Herman went on telling her about the club. “It used to be by invitation only. Now it’s by list. Of course, you can get in if you’re well-known, or with someone well-known.”
Now she had to be on some list to get in? Great. Annie hoped Dita had put her name down on it. “If it’s so popular, why have I never heard of it?”
“Ah, but it’s not popular.” He corrected her with a wag of his finger. “It’s exclusive. There’s a big difference. Even this location’s history is a bit of a secret, you know.”
Annie tilted her head curiously at him. “How so?”
“Well, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you…” He grinned, his bright eyes glittering with humor. She shook her head but laughed anyway. “Just kidding. Believe it or not, this place used to be a monastery.”
“From monastery to nightclub?” She wrinkled her nose at the long, warehouse-like side of the brick building. “That’s a stretch.”
“Well, not so far as you’d think,” he countered. “The monks who worked here made beer and wine and other various alcoholic beverages.”
Annie raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that sort of a conflict of interests for monks?”
“Nah.” Herman waved her question away. “Alcohol has rarely been off-limits in religion. Sex? Yes. Getting drunk? Not so much. Most religions throughout history have used alcohol, actually, in their rituals. You know, the whole bread and wine routine? The Greeks had Dionysus-one whole god devoted entirely to alcohol! Besides, haven’t you ever met an Irish Catholic priest?”