Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

At the dressing room, Lara led me inside. Women, a few men, and a couple of perhaps gender-neutral folk, sat at stations with bright lights around mirrors, racks of clothes everywhere. Music pulsed, coming from an exit at the far end with a sign above it that read Stage.

At our entrance, heads rose, smiles formed.

“Hey, Genevieve,” a couple of voices called out.

That was going to take some getting used to.

“Oh my God, girl. I can’t believe you came down here.” Clem, the older lady I’d seen at the strip club’s bar, bustled over, her hands clutched together in mild panic. “I need to apologise. I had no idea who you were when we met before. None of us did. I would’ve been way more helpful. I should have been more helpful,” she corrected herself. “I’m so sorry for being a dick.”

I touched her shoulder, shocked. “Stop. You’ve nothing to apologise for, Clem. I didn’t tell you who I was.”

Back then, I hadn’t even been the person they thought I was now. Their boss’s woman.

Another woman crept over, her expression more sheepish. She was beautiful, obviously a dancer, made up in the style of an American country singer. “I need to fess up, too.”

Lara wiggled her fingers. “This is Dixie,” she introduced.

Dixie dropped my gaze. “Just last week, I made a pass at your man. In my defence, he didn’t tell anyone he was taken. Even Alisha had to pretend he was hers. He never fucks around, so I figured he was lonely and needed someone on his dick.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Shut me up, someone.”

I couldn’t help my grin. “You all need to stop apologising. No one’s offended me in any way. I’m just glad to be here.”

It was the right thing to say. Around us, people visibly relaxed, chatter starting once more. Dixie blew out a relieved breath.

Lara squeezed my arm then directed me to a free dressing table. “I’ll do your hair. You tackle your makeup.”

I sought out Dixie. “Could you come, too? Chat with me a minute. I’ve got something to ask.”

She agreed, and I settled into the seat and regarded myself in the mirror. After a week locked away with Arran I looked different. The same fair hair to the middle of my back, in need of a cut but glossy and probably better for a week with no straighteners or curling tongs. The same blue eyes and heart-shaped face. I couldn’t pinpoint the change, but it was real.

At least I was alive.

Dixie snuck up a hand, her reflection in the mirror. “Let me do your makeup? I’ve been taking a hair and beauty course at college, courtesy of the club. I’d love to try out my techniques on you.”

The memory came back to me of Arran describing how the money the club made was spent. I kind of loved that. With my acceptance, the two women set about tackling my scruffy state.

“What did you want to ask?” Lara said.

“It’s about a friend of mine.” I took a deep breath. “She worked the streets and was killed recently.”

Dixie, midway through blending contour on my cheekbones, froze. “Killed? Oh my God. You knew that hooker who worked in North Town?”

“Dix,” a man drawled from across the room. “It’s sex worker or street worker. Hooker is offensive.”

She gave him an unimpressed eyeroll. “Honey, I fuck for money. I can call it what I like.”

“Still don’t need to demean yourself.”

“It ain’t delulu if it’s trululu.”

He sniffed, and she came back to me.

“We’ve all been talking about it this week. Sorry for your loss.”

“Her name was Cherry.” I frowned. “Her street name anyway.”

Dixie leaned in conspiratorially. “Chelsea, that’s her real name. I guess you knew that, as her friend, but I overheard gossip. One of Alisha’s recruiters tried many times to get her to come here, but she wouldn’t even consider it. She liked her independence. Gotta say it made us all appreciate the safety of these four walls if there’s a killer on the loose.”

“Dixie.” Lara hissed and jabbed her heated tongs as if to indicate discretion for me.

“Oh, well, I’m sure she’ll be missed.” Dixie made a wonky sign of the cross. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I intend to find out who murdered her.”

The chatter around me ceased. Dixie and Lara swapped a glance, then Lara spoke.

“Does Arran know you’re going to do that?”

“No, but I’ll tell him.”

“Okay, phew. What do you want from us?”

I swung a look around. “Did anyone here know her?”

Grim shakes of heads and flat denials returned.

“Like I said, she didn’t mix with us. I can ask around, but I never once saw her come here, and in all the conversations about her, uh, end, no one said they knew her personally.” Dixie finished blending and moved on to my eyes.

My shoulders slumped. “Well, that’s a dead end. I was hoping she’d have acquaintances in the same job. Someone she could’ve confided in.”

Dixie pulled a sad face. “Maybe she only had you.”

God, surely not.

It made me think harder. I needed another approach. Dixie drew on cat eyes that suited me so far beyond anything I’d ever tried myself, and I started over.

“What about clients?” I said. Dixie worked on the sex side as well as dancing. “Cherry told me a few things⁠—”

“Stop. Not here.” Dixie shook her head, loose curls flying.

“You can’t…” I dropped my voice, cluing in. “You can’t mention clients?”

“Not in terms of whatever you’re about to say. As murder suspects? People are listening, hun,” she whispered back. “And by people, I mean gossips. You and I can have that chat, but not here or now. I need to hit the stage, and we’re about done with your face if you finish your lips yourself. Find me upstairs tomorrow evening, and we’ll grab a private room. I’m working ten PM till seven AM. Grab me before.”

“I’ll find you. And thank you for this.” I gestured to myself.

“It’s no trouble. You’re such a doll. No wonder he didn’t even cop a squeeze of my fine ass. Gotta go.”

With a grin at Lara’s outraged huff, Dixie slipped away, and I sat back, relieved to have that conversation ahead of me.

A short while later, I was transformed.

My hair tumbled down my back in loose waves, and my eyes were smoky grey with my lips cool-pink. I was pretty certain I’d never been this hot and told Lara so.

She waggled her eyebrows. “Clothes, next. Whatcha got?”

I gave an embarrassed shrug. “Very little, and nothing that would suit the club. Everything with Arran happened so fast, and I haven’t even been home since.”

Lara stepped away. In a minute, she returned with a black tube dress, an underwear set with the label still on it, and even a pair of pink heels that matched my lipstick.

“Anything you need, we’ve got it. There’s a whole store of clothes, new and pre-loved. Anyone here can help themself and add to their own rack.” Proudly, she offered her findings then pointed out a screen to change behind.

The secondhand clothes from Arran’s friends came off me and the new set went on. All except the bra. The tube dress was tight enough to support me, and I had a moment of utter joy at seeing myself in it. There wasn’t anything that special about me. I was mid. Unexceptional. But that was the point of a makeover, and I’d been made up beyond my wildest dreams.

I stepped out, and Lara did an exaggerated jaw drop.

“Hot freaking stuff,” she informed me.

I stepped forward on the pink kitten heels. “Are you sure? It’s not too revealing?”

Passing me with her boobs completely out, one of the dancers burst out in a laugh then jiggled for effect. I laughed, too, loving the moment I’d found with them here.

Cherry would’ve loved it. The piece of my heart that had broken for her panged. I wished she’d have taken up their offer.

Lara took my arm and patted it. “Are you okay? Where did you go?”

I snapped my focus to her. “Nowhere. I mean, just to my friend. I miss her.”

Lara tilted her head in sympathy. “Aw, I get it. I cry at the good news stories I read. Don’t get me started on actual tragedies.”

One of the men who’d left for the dance floor, then returned for a costume switch, gave a small smile. “My cousin died a month ago. I didn’t really know her as an adult, but we were friends as kids. Every time I think of it, I get cut up.”

An Asian woman fitting a luxurious wig gave him a one-armed hug. “I lost my dog last Christmas, and I know it isn’t the same as a person⁠—”

“Dogs are family, too,” the man corrected.

Her eyes welled. “He was my baby, and I miss him all the time.”

One by one, others gave up their own stories, their pockets of sorrow, and just like with the makeover, the shared grief bolstered me. I’d missed having friends so much.

A music change had a gaggle of dancers rushing to the stage exit, and Lara tugged my arm.

“Want to go back and show the boss what he’s got? Or we could go dancing in Divide? Or even upstairs to the fun floor. I remember you were interested last time we met, and you’ll need to know your way to meet Dixie tomorrow.”

“All of the above, but I really want Arran to see me like this.”

“Yeah, you do.”

She snickered, and I peered again at myself, seeking out my flaws. There was something wrong with me because I needed Arran’s approval for how I looked. I wanted him to want me.

He was only faking for the sake of his reputation. I got that. And the smart version of me had a plan to use the knowledge I had about the missing child to get him to help me find my dad.

The not-smart version of me wanted him to drop the act and kiss me again.

And worse? For him to mean it.