The Legion, I always thought it was a dumb name for a jazz club. Much like the music they peddled, you wouldn't find a jazz club in National City that didn't have something going on between the bars. Hubs of sin where anyone could throw away their worries in a blur of booze, all behind the veneer of class. The glare of fancy suits and shiny instruments outshining whatever went on under the table. This may be the truth of the place, but the biblical name felt a little on the nose. Knocking down the walls of subtlety with a name that screamed for attention from the self-righteous. The terrible name at least made its own sense when you took the club's owner into account. Kerry O'Dox, fifth son of a Catholic family. He was almost as smart as he was egotistical. Insisted on the nickname "Brainiac" and unfortunately had enough sway to make sure it stuck. The place and man were things I liked to avoid. Yet after a day spent consolidating my research I found myself staring at that demonic display of lights. They blazed out into the evening air, somehow even more garish than the surrounding clubs.
My clothing had an unnatural feel to it, upmarket eveningwear and my one pair of unscuffed shoes was a necessity for tonight. I straightened my tie and mentally prepared myself to enter the den of arrogance. I took a deep breath and sauntered on. The band hit me first, a slow number to ease patrons out of sobriety. They knew who I was here, for whatever reason there was no hassle at the entrance and my coat was gladly taken. Either Brainiac wanted me on edge from the start or he had something up his sleeve. A smirk rose on my face, he thought the game had started. The ornate doors of the lobby opened up before me and the warmth of the jazz hall hit me. Red carpets, gold lined tables and a big stage on the far side did their job grabbing attention. The big numbers were yet to start, so plenty of guests were paying more mind to their drinks than the stage. From here on in everything was a performance, I had to scan the room with a smile on my face and swagger in my heart. The art of seeing without looking, hearing more than dulcet tones of the horn section in the rabble of bodies doing business and whatever other dark desires gripped them.
I snaked through with ease to the front of the crowded bar. The marble of it was cool to touch, I parked myself in the centre. Impossible for the bartender to ignore no matter how hard he tried. Casual and frivolous conversations were started with me by my surrounding patrons. I kept that grin, made them laugh and danced the conversational dance. All the while my eyes never left the uncomfortable bartender. Running out of excuses not to come serve me, he broke first.
"Evening, ," he said.
"Michael, it's been a while. I'll have the usual," I said. He didn't move.
"There's the small matter of your tab, ," I reached into my pocket and pulled out fifty dollars.
"That should cover it," I said. He hesitated and as I looked away for a moment to straighten my pocket, his eyes darted further down the room. In my periphery I saw Brainiac himself at his usual table give a slight nod. Seeing without looking.
"One old-fashioned coming up," Michael said. For the first time of the night, my grin was genuine. He made a show of mixing the drink in front of me. Michael was a deft hand, probably the most honest person in the joint. Considering his competition, it was a meagre achievement.
"Thank you," I said.
"Any time. So , are you here for business or pleasure?" he said. I leaned on the bar, my nice suit effortlessly sliding across marble and looked across the crowded hall to speculative looking Brainiac. I raised my glass in his direction.
"I think you already know the answer to that," I said.
"When he has time, you'll be called over," he said, slinking off to serve the next person eager to whet their whistles. The Old-Fashioned hit just right, Michael never lost his touch. It was as smooth and rich as the music accompanying The Legion's revelry. Brainiac watched over it too, his table was up in the corner for a good view of the stage and the whole joint. He was alone and had nothing on it apart from a drink of his own. It was time-honoured and predictable play, making me wait around for no reason. His house, his rules, my time was his to waste. The band's numbers picked up in speed as the night went on, encouraging excitement after the gloomy beginnings. More drinks flowed and the crowds grew hotter. All par for the course for a night in National City. I stuck to my bar stool, happy to watch the eb and flow. I had no intention of getting caught up in it, the place of the observer was the seat of power. After a time, one of the servers dipped out from the main floor.
"Brainiac will see you now," he said. He beckoned me to follow. We snaked between the round tables, getting close to the action of the stage and approaching the best seat in Brainiac's lair. He leaned hard into the jazz look with his white jacket, red cummerbund and black, slicked-back hair. His side of the table was a full booth, I was offered a low chair facing away from the stage. The man of small stature wanted to look big, it was bravado I didn't care for. I had to at least pretend to be on his level, I took my gestured seat and placed it on the other side so I could face the stage. He was now to my left, grinning away at my approach. The grin grew wider when my escort whispered something in his ear, no doubt telling him I was $10 short on my tab.
"Monarch, Monarch, Monarch. Welcome back to my humble abode," he said, his pearly whites flashed against the stage lights.
"Brainiac, kind of you to welcome me in," I said.
"I have to admit, I was impressed by the audacity of it," he said.
"Audacious or not, I'm sure your flunky told you we're square," I said. He turned to the stage, things were starting to hush as the night's big act was preparing to start. He turned back to me, that stupid smile having never left his face.
"I wish I could tell you that was the case. However, you're still down ten bucks," he said. I shuffled uncomfortably and folded my arms. He drummed the table and swivelled my way. "I tell you what, I'm in a generous mood. Tell me something worth $10 and then we can talk as equals."
I breathed out from my nose loudly and avoided looking at him for a moment to really sell it.
"I may have heard here or there that Floyd Lawton is coming to town," I said. Brainiac keenly leaned forward, if the man had any patience for knowledge, he'd have found this out himself within the next day anyway.
"Here to see anyone in particular?" He asked.
"Who's to say? I imagine that sort of information would be worth a lot more than ten dollars," I shrugged, leaned back in my chair and took sip of my drink. It was always important to kick back, full acceptance of this little power game he was playing might have clued him in as to what I was up to. Instead, he smiled to himself an raised his glass.
"Well now my friend, we can deal. What do you need from me?" he said. He was in a good mood, satisfied with himself to have won the duel. I looked suitably irritated, but quietly pleased with this dumbass' ignorance. People are always more amiable when they think they hold all the cards and prone to generosity when they think they've already won. Easiest way to outsmart a genius is to let them think you're a fool.
"Funnily enough, it's not you I need…"
I'd always known to avoid the big act. Unfortunately, the size of this job meant I had no choice but to fly close to the sun. The hush of the audience reached its climax, the lights went low. That's when she glided on to the stage. Her red dress sparkled in the spotlight, a leg playfully skirting a slit in its side. I made sure to slyly check my watch before she reached centre stage.
"It's her." I said.
She was the only reason this club had the standing it did. Imra Saturn, the kind of dame who could capture a man's dreams with a mere swoon or break his heart with a cold shoulder. Her microphone stood silent, she gently took it up and scanned the whole room with a sultry smile. The pianist began to play and the bluesy chords of the band softly rung around the hall. Not a soul looked at anything but her when she started to sing. Her voice was like hearing a soothing promise you didn't know you needed. It touched the mind to the point she could ask of you to do anything and you'd be helpless to say no. The song picked up and the subtleties of her voice turned to power, the whole room filled with a buzz of excited energy. She could have been up there anywhere between three minutes and three hours. Not a single man or woman in this enraptured audience could tell you how long they were there. Lost in a daze of jazz and applause. I wish I could say I was immune to these charms, that the control she had over everyone's minds when she was on stage was something I noticed from the seat of the observer. When some senses finally returned to me and the room erupted in thunderous applause. Whoops and cheers for an encore sounded out, she thanked everyone and sauntered off-stage. The energy of excitement turned to disappointment at her exit. The lights came up and the band's set became more filler. I checked my watch again, ten-minute set. I may not be immune to her charms, I just know how to cheat my way around them. Brainiac himself shook his head back into the room. He laughed at me.
"Many better men have tried and failed to impress . Didn't think you were the type to attempt it," he said.
"I ain't dumb enough to try anything like that. I just want a conversation," I said. Brainiac smiled to himself, still in that same good mood I set up for him.
"You know what. I'll bring her to you, if anything your attempts will be entertaining," he said. Brainiac stood up with a swagger in his step. The rest the room were excitedly talking about the performance they'd had the privilege of being a part of, many more were going back to the bar. Loading up in vain hope for an encore that wasn't going to come. After a few minutes, Brainiac re-emerged with walking by his side. Her heels hit the main floor as patrons stole looks her way. Unimpressed expression, hips swaying with each slow step. When the duo reached the table, Brainiac slid into his booth. made a point of having separate chair brought for her. No words needed of course, merely hand gesture for a server to instantly put it in place. She sat down, crossed her legs and hit me with that heart-breaking stern look. She was better at playing the game than even I was, I knew everything she did was calculated but still had to pinch myself to not fall prey to the tricks.
" , this is the man I told you about," Brainiac said. She said nothing, simply flicking her hair and keeping that intense gaze. I held it, though I had to ignore the pain of still pinching myself to stay vaguely grounded in the moment.
"Short set," I said. Her expression was unmoved.
"You know what they say, leave them wanting more," she said, even her speaking voice had a melodic charm.
"Ten minutes, ten hours. With a voice like that you'll always have people wanting more," I said. A grin twitched in the corner of her mouth.
"Leave," she said. I leaned back in my seat.
"Well, you tried. Can't fault the effort," Brainiac said. I raised an eyebrow. She leaned forward and rested her chin on her satin-gloved hand, her eyes never broke away from me.
"Not him, you," she said. It was a real shame I had to pay so much attention to the dame. I would love to have savoured the look on Brainiac's face. He was smart enough not to protest and left in short order. I was left alone with her, she had a way of looking at me like she was the only person in the room. The lights of the hall and the joy of the other patrons faded to quiet white noise. Her voice was like an echo in a cave, it resonated with every part of my being.
"Well, . I'm all ears," she said. I swallowed hard, I had hoped to use Brainiac as a buffer instead of finding myself on this island. My instinct was to light a cigarette, take some time and calm the nerves. I thought better of it, the best singers rarely liked such habits.
"Quite the privilege, ," I said. She shifted round into Brainiac's booth, I could smell her sweet perfume. I'd piqued her fickle interest by resisting her charms, I couldn't lose that now by reacting to her closeness. I watched intently to try and suss her out as fast as my racing mind could manage. No doubt she knew what I was about in one glance.
"Do you want me to guess why you're here?" she said.
"What would that guess be?" I said.
"Most want to steal me away so they can have their shot at the king. Even take his place…" she trailed off and looked over to Brainiac, he was doing the rounds with all manner of guests.
"I have no intention of becoming a king. I don't want to become the man everyone guns for. Besides, everyone knows that queens are for more powerful," I said. Her leg started to rub up against mine, I didn't flinch.
"You strike me as a man who moves the pieces instead of sitting on the board. You want to move me as part of your game. The question is where?" She said.
"There's a Ball in the Hilton tomorrow night and wouldn't you know it, I've lost my invite," I said.
"Using me to the clear way for some gambit, I'm sure," she said.
"Something along those lines," I said.
"I'm hearing how I can help you. What's my effort worth to me?" she said. I had to stop tensing up. I racked my brain, this was a woman that every man wanted and all women wanted to be. Money would mean nothing to her and I had no stature to offer. There was only one thing I had of worth, I was just lucky it happened to be the most valuable commodity in the city.
"I'm a man that knows things, the things I don't know I always I found out. One job, gratis. Assuming it's reasonable of course," I said. She pouted at me.
"But , I'm such an unreasonable gal," she said. I pinched harder, any give and she'd hang me out to dry.
"Do we have a deal?" I said. She took off her satin glove and placed her hand lazily in front of me. I took it gently, a wry half grin rose on her mouth. I kissed it and sat back.
"If you're late, I might just go in without you," she said. She didn't need a time, hell she probably already had an invite to tomorrow's soiree. I had my in at least. She stood up with a knowing smile. I could hear the room again as she swaggered off, the lights seemed to get brighter with each step away she took. She left me there, I breathed out for what felt like the first time since she laid eyes on me. I slumped my shoulders, just like that I was in her debt. Real debt. Nothing like the falsities I manufactured with Brainiac. I' been played like a damned fiddle, a harsh reminder to never get too comfortable in National City.