While the incubus and I had been male-bonding, Hush had opened, and guys waiting for the show to start already filled the club. The hip-hop music had been replaced by pulsing trance tracks that made me grind my teeth. A few waitresses sashayed around in hot pink short-shorts and bikini tops, carrying trays of drinks. I scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Anna. I grabbed a passing waitress’s arm. She spun around to give me a faceful of orange cleavage. “Can I help?” she asked, fluttering false eyelashes at me. “Yeah, I’m looking for my friend. Tall, long blonde hair, pretty obviously a cop.” “She went into the dressing room.” The waitress nodded toward the catwalk. “You’re the PI, right? She said you’d come looking for her.” I thanked her and slipped into the dressing room to be greeted by a chorus of squeals from the girls inside. An Indian girl dressed as an angel flung her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
