Phoenix Rising

CHAPTER ONE

No way was he making a career out of delivering strip-o-grams. This gig was only temporary.
“Show me the money,” he said as he grabbed the directions off the passenger seat. The screwed up directions. The directions that had already gotten him lost. Twice. Now he was a half hour late.
Adam glanced down at the paper in his hand and checked the address once more as he approached the foot of yet another driveway. He tapped the brake and leaned as far as he could toward the passenger-side window. He had just about perfected his technique for checking the house numbers without coming to a full stop.
Squinting through the darkness, he could barely make out the numbers on the mailbox. Hot damn, it looked like he’d finally found the place.
And what were the odds that the address was actually right?
Shoving that thought away, he turned the car into the driveway. The twists and turns continued for a good quarter mile, finally spilling him into a circular turnaround. Lights came on automatically, illuminating the manicured shrubs, a fountain and a massive stone structure that looked more like a museum than a house.
Adam let out a low whistle as he eased the car around the circle and slowed to a stop at the foot of the wide stone steps.
A sweeping expanse of porch ran the width of the house, disappearing into darkness at either end. Ornately carved columns flanked the massive front door and the place was positively lousy with arches and stained glass windows. It was impressive even at night and must be damn spectacular in the daylight. Not that he would ever see it again.
Adam checked his reflection in the rearview. The costume, a stripper’s version of a florist delivery-boy outfit, looked cheap and the color, a hideous green, didn’t suit him at all. Picking up the stupid little hat from the seat beside him, he put it on and consulted the mirror again.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He pulled the hat off and tossed it into the backseat. The costume would work just fine without the hat. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d have it on for very long. And who ever heard of a florist who delivered at ten-thirty at night anyway? But florist was what they had asked for and the customer always got what they wanted. Maybe they weren’t going to get it quite on time, but they’d get over it.
Adam ran his fingers through his hair, giving it that tousled bedhead look. Grabbing the boom box from the floor, he checked to be sure the music was cued to the right song before he gathered the flowers into his other arm. He’d just managed to snag the strings of the half-dozen mylar balloons when his cell rang.
Shit.
Releasing the balloons, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe, what are you doing?”
“What do you care?” Adam shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. Why the hell hadn’t he checked the number before he answered?
“C’mon, angel. Don’t be like that. I just want to talk.”
“I’m working, Daren.”
There was a beat of silence. “Why don’t I hear any music?”
“I quit the club.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I forgot.” Just like you forgot to tell me you were fucking somebody else.
“You haven’t returned any of my calls.”
“Hmm, what do you think that means?”
“Why do you have to act like that?”
Adam sighed. “I have to go, Dee.”
“What time are you done? Maybe I could meet you somewhere.”
“No.”
“Adam—”
“I said no. And quit calling me.”
Without waiting for an answer, he flipped the phone closed. No sooner had he put it down but it rang again. Opening the glove compartment, he shoved it inside and slammed the door. There. Now he could barely hear the ringing. They were so not doing another round of why-won’t-you-take-me-back.
A balloon floated in front of his face. Adam swatted it away. Goddamn balloons. He gathered up the strings before opening the car door. The damn things had been all over the place the whole way there. Why did they need balloons anyway? You’d think the flowers would be enough -- two dozen roses of all colors, even purple. Balancing the whole deal in his arms, he climbed out of the car, nudged the door closed with one hip and mounted the front steps.
His finger had barely left the bell before the door opened. An attractive woman with dark hair gave him the once-over. It was a quick and thorough assessment.
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I got lost.” Adam dug down deep and produced a smile. “Lousy directions, you know?”
“Of course,” she said, clearly having no idea what he was talking about.
They both fell silent, looking at each other. She was going to rip him a new one for being late, Adam could just feel it. Then the tightness around her eyes and mouth eased and she smiled.
“Well, you’re here now.” She reached out a hand. “I’m Rene. Can I take something?” Without waiting for an answer she took the balloons.
“Thanks.” Adam edged past her and entered the foyer.
The hallway alone was bigger than his last apartment. Gray and white marble tiled the floor. A stairway of dark, polished wood rose in a majestic sweep, curving off to the left until it disappeared into shadow. Soft lighting showcased several paintings that hung on the dove-colored walls.
The silence was absolute.
Adam turned back to the woman. “Where’s the party?”
“It’s a fairly intimate party. Probably not what you’re used to.” Her smile tilted a little as her gaze slid away from his and settled somewhere over his left shoulder.
Adam glanced behind him but saw nothing. He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Strip for two hundred, strip for ten, it’s all the same to me.”
“Well, how about strip for one?”
“One? You mean like a private dance?”
She nodded. “Jimmy is a dear friend. It’s his birthday and I wanted to give him something fun and special, you know what I mean?”
He didn’t, not exactly. But it didn’t matter since before he could respond a male voice drifted out from somewhere deeper in the house.
“Ren, who’s at the door?”
She jumped like someone had goosed her and shoved the balloons at him. “I have to go.” She pointed. “Go right through that archway and…”
Adam grabbed the balloons before they could drift up to the high ceiling and out of reach. “I don’t think–”
She shook her head and put a finger to her lips. “Go on,” she said and made a little shooing motion. “Oh, wait one second.” She picked up her handbag from a small side-table, rummaged inside and produced a wad of bills which she held out.
Adam looked at the cash but made no move to take it. Uneasiness coiled tight in his belly. This was too weird. “What’s that for?”
“It’s a tip. They said I could tip you if I wanted.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.” And whoever heard of a fifty-dollar tip anyway, because there was at least fifty bucks there.
“That’s all right.”
“Rene?” That deep, masculine voice called again.
“I know you’ll be perfect,” she said and tucked the bills in among the roses. Throwing one final glance toward the archway she hurried out, leaving him alone in the foyer.
Adam stared at the closed front door. He should leave now, just get the hell out. Something weird was going on here. Except …
His gaze settled on the cash sticking out from among the roses. Two twenties peaked out from behind a large blush-colored bloom and more bills were crumpled in with the greenery. Fifty bucks, at least fifty, and that wasn’t counting the money Party Boys would pay him for what amounted to fifteen or twenty minutes work.
Whatever was going on here it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it matter, because money was money and right now money was what he needed. He could do this.
Setting down the boom box, Adam took a breath, plucked the money out of the bouquet and plastered on the smile that served him better than any costume ever had. Tucking the bills in his boot, he grabbed the boom box and turned toward the archway.