Chapter 2: She Calls Herself Brandy
"Brandy darlin', Davis isn't trying to cop another feel is he? Why don't you come over here and have a seat." His tone a smooth drawl. She didn't need to look at the owner of the voice to know he was patting the knee of his thousand dollar slacks.
Jordan cut a look at the senator's advisor and gave him what she hoped was a charming smile. "No sir, he's being a gentleman as usual, but if you'll excuse me. I'll see if I can round up a bottle of your favorite."
As nonchalantly as she could, Jordan strolled out of the room with the grace that only a woman that was used to five-inch stilettos could. She didn't have to turn around to see if Woody had followed her. She could feel him like the static build up before a bolt of lighting hit the ground during a summer storm. He was just as unwelcome and just as deadly. That damn phone call.
She led him down an out-of-the-way corridor with discreet oak doors. To the casual observer like looked like simple office entrances, perhaps private meeting rooms. Jordan was privy to their real purpose. She wrapped her arms around her waist.
During her job interview, the owner of the Chambers told her that solicitation was against the rules. He took great amusement to tell her this while she was on her knees in front of him. She hurried past the first few doors, ignoring the bustle from private parties and intimate rendezvous. The rooms further down, were the sounds were more muffled and more nefarious.
The public wanted to believe the business of the nation was taken care of in the hallowed boardrooms of Capital Hill...when the truth was deals were brokered and sold in rooms like this all over the city.
It was one of the reasons she was here. Information.
Jordan continued down where the plush carpet ended and the commercial grade tile start knowing it was her best bet to get rid of Woody while remaining unnoticed. She slipped inside the wine cellar at the end of the hallway and left the door open, just a crack.
She didn't have to wait long before he walked in quietly shutting the door behind him.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
Jordan's tone didn't help Woody's attitude. He didn't think she'd welcome him with a fanfare of trumpets, but he didn't expect her open animosity either.
"I'd think that would be obvious," he said, reaching out to grab her arm. "If we leave now we can catch the redeye out..."
Jordan stiffly moved out of his reach. He traced the call...or someone did for him. She trusted him and by the looks of it that faith was going to be a fatal error.
"How could you?"
He let the question slide without comment. To answer her truthfully, would undoubtedly incriminate himself. "You asked for my help, so I'm giving it to you. You have no idea the tap-danc..."
She cut him off without preamble. "If you want me to leave with you, you're going to have to drag me out in cuffs."
"I don't think it would be that out of place in a joint like this." he said, his teeth showing in what he probably wanted to be a smile but looked like more of a snarl.
"You don't have any jurisdiction here."
"I'm not here officially Jordan. I told you I'm off the case. I'm here as a friend."
A friend? If she died tomorrow she couldn't name six friends who would want to be her pallbearers. Not now.
"I told you I'd call when I was ready. I can take care of myself." Her tone was reserved, like they were strangers.
Woody looked around, his disgust was barely hidden. "That's evident."
Jordan looked over her shoulder as if she was ready for it to open at any second. "Go home Woody. I'm not ready yet. Leave me alone...please."
"You said you had some evidence..."
The hair on the back of her neck went up. Maybe it was just paranoia, but looking at him standing there...in the wine cellar of The Chambers when he should be safely tuck away in Boston...and she couldn't help but wonder if she knew what he was capable of at all. He didn't need to be on the case. Lu was.
His Lu.
Was she right outside?
Woody took one step closer. He pushed. She thought he betrayed her again. He could tell the fragile trust they developed the night he gave her all the money he had and assured her that he never saw her...was shattered by his just being there.
And if he read her right there was something more. Something even more personal. Shame?
"Come back with me," he pleaded. "Let the police do their job. I promise I'll keep you safe."
Jordan's laugh was full and hearty, but there was no humor in it whatsoever. She should have never picked up that phone. "The police want to lock me up for a crime I didn't commit."
"The investigation is open and active Jordan. Nobody thinks you pulled that trigger..."he whispered. Jordan couldn't help but notice that he couldn't look her in the eye.
The subject of the story JD was working on resonated through her. "You don't mind if I don't hold too much faith in your open, active case?"
Jordan rummaged around the racks coming up with a bottle of vintage Shiraz. She twisted her lips, letting her guard slip ever so slightly. "He told me an Australian introduced him to this wine a few months ago..."
Woody cupped his palms over her shoulders. "Let me help you."
Jordan could see the sincerity in his face. That tired, beat down look that that told her the last six weeks had been as rough for him as they had been sheer hell for her.
"I have to go. I'm on stage in ten minutes," she said almost apologetically. "Go home Woody. Just...go home. Please. I'll be in touch."
If only it was in his power, he would snap his fingers and they'd magically be somewhere, anywhere, other than here, and this nightmare would all be over.
"I can't do that."
He tried to stop her one last time before she could walk out the door. His eyes were the color of her favorite faded jeans and they used to make her feel just as comfortable. So much has changed.
"Please," she said finally pushing past him. "Stay out of my way."
Jordan held her breath until she realized Lu wasn't right outside the door. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe Lu was waiting for her at the airport. It was tidier that way.
Woody let her go. He found her and she was alive. Now it was time to think like a cop and take matters one step at a time. He'd honored her wishes...to a point. Woody went back to his table along the wall, well out of her way.
He told himself once she left the walls of the club, all bets were off.
The dressing room at The Chambers had all the charm of a public toilet. Not that any of the regular girls really cared. Behind the curtain they were not required to be 'on'.
Jordan quickly discovered that conversations boiled down to monosyllable responses and simply phrased, lifeless reports about the floor. The women weren't here to make friends. They were only there to make a living. And as result, it made Jordan's existence there somewhat easier to handle.
She eyed her costume on the hanger. Or more to the fact, what there was of it. The black Lycra halter top and mini skirt consisted mostly of criss-crossing straps and snaps rather than actual fabric.
It didn't make much difference. She didn't wear it for long. Jordan shimmied out of her slip dress and pulled on the rest. She adjusted the line of the G-string and sat down to wait for her cue.
She should have never made the mistake of calling Woody. She'd worked so hard to keep her tracks covered perfectly. She should have realized what he'd do.
Maybe on some level she did. Seeing her like this. Knowing what she had to become. It would make it easier for her to completely turn her back on her old life.
The day she woke up next to JD's dead body she knew the Boston chapter of her life was over.
"Candy from a baby..." The voice brought her back.
The dancer who had just left the stage came into the dressing room, her hands full of wadded up singles. Jordan had to go. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror and saw Brandy staring back. With her razor-sharp, straight blonde hair and hazel green eyes, Jordan was sure her own father wouldn't recognize her walking down the street.
Woody waltzed in looking like just what he is...a cop. A cop there for her. He'd might as well have his badge tattooed on his forehead for how well he fit in there. He'd raise questions. Questions she couldn't afford at this juncture. Not when she was so close to having it all.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to think only aboutthe moment.
It was time for her to pay the piper.