Chapter Twenty: Set Up
They stayed apart nearly the whole night, quite a feat when only given so much room to maneuver behind the bar. However, it seemed a force greater than gravity was hell bent to be sure they slowly worked their way back to one another, until the early hours of the morning when last call was made and their shoulders brushed against one another.
They hadn't so much as looked at one another- at least at the same time- since Kurt had sauntered off in search of the bathroom hours earlier. And now, Myka blushed as Emily's eyes drifted from her eyes to her lips.
"Myka-,"
"Emily-,"
They both started to speak at the same time, stopping short and laughing at it, and the awkward tension from earlier seemed to melt away in the air around them. Neither made another attempt to speak. Electricity sparked between them, heating up the already thin air, making the moment positively charged with a tension much preferable.
"Hey, Mykes, can I talk to you?"*
The women stepped apart quickly, as if having been caught doing something much worse than simply staring. Myka turned to address Kurt once more, and could swear she heard Emily mutter, "Are you fucking kidding me?" under her breath.
"We're a bit busy here, Kurt." Emily snapped when Myka's mouth opened and no words came out. Myka was sick of getting whiplash between these two, both seeming helbent on interrupting each other.
Truth be told, she only minded when it was her time with Emily being encroached upon.
"Look, bitch," Kurt's steely eyes landed on Emily, causing Myka to bristle, "I was sent by MacPherson. This is family business, got it?" he leaned over the counter to increase the intensity of his glare, and Myka pushed back on his shoulder before she could stop herself.
Emily stepped forward quickly, but Myka stopped her as well.
"It's okay, Em, I got it." Myka assured her, waiting until the other bartend went to pour the regulars their last drinks of the evening before addressing the man currently sweating bullets all over her counter, "What is it Kurt?"
"I've been making my rounds with the boys," he ran a hand through his hair, normally gelled into a college boy's hair style, now sticking up at odd places and held there by sweat, "Keeping my ear to the ground for anything big going on. And... well, the bosses have been watching you."
Myka started slightly when Emily flinched behind her, the glass in her hand shattering on the floor.
"Are you okay?" Myka mouthed to her.
Emily nodded profusely as she scrambled to get a broom, apologizing to the patrons who were laughing at her act of klutziness.
Myka turned back to Kurt, "Oh?" she worked to keep her pitch normal and pull his attention back to her.
"Yeah, they like you and are willing to give you a chance," Kurt nodded, trying to be nonchalant as he wiped his hands on his jeans, "They need you to help with something. They need a few girls to be entertainers at their meeting this Friday. And after the shit that went down here, they trust you can keep your mouth shut."
"What kind of entertainment?" Myka asked, because she had her limits, there were something's she would definitely refuse to do for the sake of her cover for a mission she hadn't been updated on in months. She got hit on by sleezeballs, she gave up her life style, her story, she took a bullet for god's sake.
She had to draw the line somewhere.
"Dancing, and they'll pay you, more than what Emily does," He nodded to the woman at the other end of the bar, quickly filling orders, "It's just for one night, but this could open up so many doors for you, for us."
"I don't know, Kurt," Myka sighed, tugging at the ends of her hair, playing up on her hesitation, secretly wondering how this opportunity had fallen in her lap seemingly out of nowhere.
"Come on, Mykes," with his hands clasped on the bar, Kurt seemed to be literally begging her now, "I need this, my ass is on the line. MacPherson, Sykes and Wells will be there with some new clients. They need it to go well."
Myka perked up at hearing that Wells planned to be there, no one had ever gotten a visual on the elusive third leader in the Brotherhood, perhaps this would be what broke everything open for them. Wither Wells existed, or he didn't. And if that was the case, they could begin making their move, this could all end soon, and they could go back to being Agents instead of drug dealers, prostitutes, bartenders and body guards.
"Alright Kurt, just this once." She nodded after a moment, "But you'll owe me one." Myka said sternly.
"You're a life saver, Doll," Kurt smiled, leaning over the bar to give Myka a quick peck and a wink."
She resisted the urge to wipe her mouth the moment he turned and walked away.
"What was that about?" Emily slid next to her, a sour look on her face as her dark eyes followed Kurt's path through the dance floor.
Myka blushed, before giving a shrug. Emily was the last person she wanted to know what she had just agreed to, "They want me to make drinks for a private party on Friday. I don't know why they didn't just ask you."
Emily's eyes flashed dangerously for a moment, then she blinked, and that burning fure was gone as she lifted a shoulder, "They probably knew I would tell them no. You can too, you know." She twiddled her thumbs and looked up at Myka through her lashes, "You don't have to do what they ask."
"I want to be in good with the Brotherhood," Myka sighed, "And if this is how I do it, so be it." She set her jaw and nodded once.
"Well, don't do anything you're uncomfortable with…" Emily's dark eyes softened with concern, and it melted Myka a bit, though she worked to hide it.
"Look at you, being all worried over little old me," Myka bumped her hip into Emily's, "No, no, it's really adorable, actually."
"Oh hush," Emily blushed and rolled her eyes.
"MARLE." Myka stood in her room, staring at the interactive wall in front of her, hands on hips, hair back and glasses on as she bit her lip and tilted her head, "Look up 'erotic dancing'."
"Do you really have to study for this?" Pete asked from where he stood leaning in her doorway, where he had located himself ever since she debriefed her team on what she had agreed to. He was going stir crazy being locked up, though Myka knew he had snuck out a couple times to go see Amanda.
"I don't want to fuck this up, Pete." Myka sighed as she sifted through the hundreds of results, skipping over what was obviously just porn, setting aside the more informative, technical files.
"Well, can I watch you practice?" Pete smiled devilishly.
"I thought told you that you're not my type?" Myka moved to shut her door on her partner's face, hearing him protest on the other side.
Rebecca sighed from where she sat against Myka's headboard, hugging a pillow to her chest, her head drooping slightly out of exhaustion. Myka felt bad for taking away the few hours they had to actually sleep, but she felt she might really need Rebecca's help. Or, at least Becks' help. Since this insanity had all begun, she spent a lot of her investigation in gentlemen's clubs and strip joints. Myka didn't know where to start and when she began to panic, Rebecca offered her services and club for practice.
"They want a couple of my girls, too." She nodded, "I'm trying to figure out which ones to send. I'm torn between these I can trust not to fuck this up for me, and the girls who really need the money."
"Pick whoever won't make it terribly obvious that I have no idea what I'm doing." Myka suggested with a groan as she began watching several clips at a time.
She wasn't worried so much about the upper body strength it would take, but looking like a fool on stage when she tried to pull off these sexy moves. She didn't tend to do well with spotlights on her, and would probably use most of her concentration focusing on not throwing up all over the mob bosses.
"Don't worry, babe," Rebecca rolled off the bed and moved to stand behind Myka, fixing her posture like an oversized Barbie Doll, "After Beck's five day crash course, you'll be dancing like a pro." She winked at her before moving to the closet, "And you'll have to put these on," she spoke after a few moments of rummaging around.
"You've got to be kidding me," Myka's jaw dropped.
"Nope," Rebecca smiled, enjoying herself far too much, "This is what the girls wear. Plus, don't you think high heels give you s sense of power?"
"Those aren't high heels," Myka grumbled, taking the red six inch stilettoes out of Rebecca's hands, leaning on her friend to hook them on, "They're weapons of torture." She wobbled for a moment before shifting her balance.
"Maybe," Rebecca allowed as her eyes slowly traced over Myka, finally meeting her eyes with a smirk, "But they make your legs look like sex, so it's a fair trade, I'd say,"
"Oh shut up and show me what to do," She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her blush.
From Sunday to Thursday, Myka practiced in all of her free time. She watched countless hours of different pole dancers and erotic dancers. Wore ridiculous heels everywhere, including the bar. And after work she spent most of the daylight hours in Becks' club practicing with the other girls.
By the time Friday came, she was feeling a nervous excitement, but confident in herself. Rebecca said she was a natural, taking to the stage like a seasoned dancer- much like she was supposed to be.
What actually helped her through most of the fear aspect of it all was Candy. Not the sweet, the dancer Rebecca seemed particularly fond of. She pulled Myka to the side the first day of practice at the club and gave her the best advice.
"Adopt a new persona when you go up there," she shrugged, but her eyes looked haunted for a twenty year old, "When I'm on the stage, I'm not Taylor, the shy smart girl who had to drop out of school when the quarter back knocked her up. Up there, I'm Candy. You just… check out. And let someone else take over for a little bit."
It was "fake it til you make it" on a whole other level, but it worked, and that was all that mattered.
Kurt was the designated driver to the gentlemen's club on the nicer side of town where the meeting was taking place. He wasn't allowed in the meeting, but they had him collect all the dancers and drop them off before sending him away.
Myka was glad, feeling squeamish under his gaze already, and he couldn't see anything with her sitting in a knee length trench coat. Having him there would be one more distraction she just didn't need.
Myka peaked her head out from the prep area behind the stage, glancing around the swank room with interest. It was the nicest set up she'd seen thus far. It was obviously where the brotherhood did their entertaining for their high end clients.
MacPherson and Sykes were sitting at a booth up near the front of the stage, where five poles were set up. Myka looked to the other four girls, glad that she wouldn't be by herself out there at least. But she knew her designated spot was front and center.
"MARLE," she whispered to her AI, ducking back behind the thick curtain, working to control her breathing, "Turn video and audio surveillance off. I can't risk having my nerves show through. Bedsides this is just recon, and there's no reason to give Claudia and Pete a show."
The only thing she wanted to have to worry about now was not falling in the ridiculous heels. She fluffed her curls for a moment as she paced a short distance, psyching herself up to slip into her stage persona, but something seemed to be missing and the other girls were shooting her sideling glances.
Then, music filled up the smoky air, and the switch was finally flipped in Myka. She gave into the illusion. The low lights, smoke filled room and hypnotic rhythm all played their part, and she stepped confidently out on to the stage, growing comfortable under the heat of the lights. Myka felt eyes on her, but her confident stride did not falter.
She took a breath as she wrapped her hands around the pole, before beginning the routine she'd developed, adapting it to the speed of the music playing. She focused on the movements of her hips, the physics of swinging herself carefully in a circle. She hummed the music unconsciously, willing herself to check out completely as she began her strip tease.
MacPherson and Sykes moved their eyes, which had been glued to the scantily clad girls on stage, to the approaching figures as they greeted the chief of police from the neighboring county, South Dakota's new governor and the senator. They exchanged pleasantries, and Sykes was encouraged to see that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of the night's entertainment.
"Where's Wells?" The governor asked with a smirk, he didn't believe the phantom of a man existed, "Why has he not graced us with his presence?" he chuckled, nudging the senator with his shoulder.
"Sorry, I was running late." A voice accompanied by the steady tapping of approaching high heeled boots reached them, and the three men froze.
The entrancing voice had Myka giving a cursory glance, the foreign accent lilting beautifully over the simple sentence. And what she saw almost broke her concentration completely. Clad in tight jeans, a black waist coat with her hair spilling in heavy waves over her shoulders, Emily Lake strode confidently towards the mobsters, a dark smirk in place.
Clair was right behind her, dressed in tight black jeans, and at least three visible weapons. Her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail as she watched the room warily.
Myka shook her head, refusing to let this trip her up, not when she was trapped in the lion's deb. She compartmentalized her feelings, took a breath and looked away, focusing on her dancing, forcing herself back into her stage persona.
"Ah, Wells, my old friend," MacPherson greeted, "It's good to see you in your element."
Emily Lake. Emily Fucking Lake, thesweet, but bad ass bar tender, gave MacPherson a familiar hug.
AN: *this is the last time Kurt will be interrupting iI think