“You blew the real thing?” Code asked, sympathy in his voice.
Maestro burst out laughing. “You are so insane, Player. You’re always the calm one. You think things through before you make a move. You rarely party. You don’t bother much with the girls who come to play and yet you’ve got the hots for this girl and now you’ve screwed things up.”
That was all true. He was always careful, especially when there was a party. “She’s different. I was pretty far gone, and maybe I’ve got it all wrong and things didn’t happen the way I remember, but if they did, I’ve got to find her. I can’t let her go without trying to fix things.”
The grin faded from Maestro’s face. “You really did fuck this up bad?”
Player nodded slowly. “I was so tired. I pretty much shoved her on the floor and told her to leave and then made things worse by trying to give her money. I was so confused and tired. You know how I can get, mixing reality and nightmares up, although she was a thing of fantasies, not nightmares. We went at it all night, and I don’t recall, not once, telling my body to cooperate. I couldn’t stop wanting that woman. I was like some kind of crazy sex machine.”
Preacher shook his head. “You definitely made that part up.”
“Condoms all over the damn room,” Player said. “At least I protected her.”
“Holy shit, brother,” Maestro breathed. “I’d say that was the real deal.”
Code glanced down at his watch. “Steele should be here any minute. You hadn’t moved all day, and we were getting worried. He was on his way over to check on you. We can ask him about the girl. He can ask Breezy.”
For the first time since he’d woken up, Player found himself relaxing. “I knew you would come through for me, Code. She said her name was Zyah. I’m pretty certain that’s her dancing name. You know, when she dances for customers.”
Preacher frowned. “You’re really convinced this girl is a dancer?”
“You should have seen her. She’s definitely a professional belly dancer. No one is that good. She told me she was practicing, but she didn’t need to practice. She had to have been dancing since she was a little kid. She did say she was from the Middle East, at least I think she said it. At the time I thought it was part of the role-playing we were doing. The act. She had to have left early in the morning, Code. Can you pull up the video where she leaves? Maybe we can see what she’s driving, get the license on her car.”
“Good idea, Player,” Maestro approved.
Code swung around and immediately fast-forwarded to the early morning hours. He caught sight of Player’s private dancer coming out of the back room and into the front, where most of the partiers were sound asleep. She picked her way through the bodies sleeping on the floor and in chairs, making her way toward the exit.
Zyah wore her blue jeans and top, and as she walked, Player could see the little golden bells around her ankle, but the coins were gone from her hips. The camera was directly on her face as she approached the exit, and she lifted a hand toward her eyes. Her fingers brushed first her left eye and then her right.
A man wearing Torpedo Ink colors came up on her right, blocking her exit. Player immediately recognized Destroyer, one of his brothers. He was a big man with very muscular arms covered in prison tattoos. His hair was long, falling nearly to his waist, pulled back in a braid segmented by bands every few inches. He leaned down and spoke to her. She shook her head and dashed at her face again, right under her eyes, giving the man her smile, but Player could tell it wasn’t real. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw what were obvious tears on her face.
Code, Maestro and Preacher fell silent. Player looked at them. “I really screwed up. She’s fuckin’ cryin’. I did that. Shit.” He pressed his fingers hard into the back of his neck, tension gathering there. For the first time in his life, he’d had real hope that he had a chance with a woman he could respond to. One he genuinely liked. She’d made him laugh. She’d made his body actually work when he’d thought himself long dead. “She didn’t do one damn thing wrong, and I made her cry.”
“I see you’re already up,” Steele said from behind them. “Master texted yesterday and said you were coming in early in bad shape. Maestro confirmed your migraine was particularly bad. I didn’t expect to see you up at all, let alone walking around.” There was a question in his voice.
Player spun around to face him. “That’s the thing, Doc, there was this woman last night, in my room. I don’t know what kind of ability she had, but when she spoke to me, the tone of her voice, the way she moved, she took away the migraine.” He shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to look at me like that.”