Eleven
Proof to the Fire

Nacho seemed less than impressed when Eloisa called him with her find.

"But it's a start," she insisted when he'd basically said, "So?" in response.

"Yeah, I don't need a start. I already told you: I need something I can take to my boss. Call me back when you have something good, Nancy Drew." Then he'd hung up.

His response was frustrating; he clearly hadn't been able to do much better, or he wouldn't have been using her to begin with.

But she wasn't thinking about anything to do with Nacho as she sat at the bar reading. Or pretending to. Eloisa had already done a sweep to ensure she had everything at the counter. Not that she'd need much- Tuesday was their slowest day of the week. She'd been there for an hour, and one person had come in. She flipped a page and sighed. Once again, she was too distracted to read. Aubrey and Ben had come back from their Taos trip engaged. Finally. They were already in full planning mode, and Aubrey had enlisted Eloisa's help since she had already been through most of the process. She hadn't seen or heard from Nate. One of her siblings must have tipped him off for which she was grateful. Her anger had cooled, but not enough to call him. She would be damned before being the one to reach out.

She was saved from herself as Gia, dressed and fully made up for her shift, threw herself onto one of the stools, anger radiating from her even as she casually scrolled through her BlackBerry. Eloisa stowed her book under the bar and turned toward the wall of liquor behind her. She pulled down the bottle of Bombay, annoyed by how little was left. At least there was enough to make a drink. With the ease of a practiced hand, she threw a gin and tonic together and set it down on the bar.

"Thanks," Gia said, lifting the glass toward Eloisa before taking a long drink. "Damn, that's good."

"What's up, G?"

Gia drummed her fingers on the counter, giving Eloisa a hard stare.

"How cool are you with Sage?"

Not very. Sage drove her crazy.

Eloisa shrugged. "We're okay."

"Always trying to play it safe, Lou. She's a bitch, you can say it."

"How about… I won't disagree?"

"Pfft." Gia sighed. "She's been trying to snake regulars."

Eloisa winced. She had learned that bachelor parties and wild boys' nights out brought in great money, but regulars were key.

"And she won't fucking listen to any of us," Gia continued, taking another drink. "I tried. Amber tried. Luxury tried. Even Maya tried, and she's so far up Sage's ass, I'm surprised she can breathe. So, I finally said fuck it and took it to Matty. You know what he said?"

"What?" Eloisa asked.

With Matty, it was almost impossible to know what completely inappropriate or out-of-pocket things would leave his mouth.

"And I fucking quote, 'Gia, I don't know why you're bringing this to me. You're Black – why don't you go all hood on her ass?'"

"No fucking way. You're joking."

"Babe, I wish I was. I really do. He's such a fucking clown. My family is from Las Cruces for fuck's sake." She took a drink. "And you know what the worst part is? Sage has fucking regulars. She's got the old dude that comes in all the time and that little cop of hers that comes in on Sundays… like she's good."

She knew the old man- how many times had she made him old-fashioned? But she didn't know Sage's other regular. So many cops came to the club that it was hard to guess who it could have been. Eloisa recognized them occasionally but never acknowledged them; if they recognized her, they never said anything either.

"I just don't get why she wants to start shit all the time. She's worse than Katrina, I swear to God." Gia drained the drink and pushed the glass forward. "One more? Please?"

"Yeah. Of course. Let me grab a bottle from the back."

It took everything in her not to say something to Matty when she got to his office. She brushed the beads aside, ignoring the inquisitive look he gave her from his spot on the couch where he lay puffing on the hookah. She turned her head, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, and began checking the boxes, looking for the one labeled gin. The storage system was beyond messy, but she reminded herself that it was not her problem. She found the box she wanted and tipped it forward only to be disappointed by a lone bottle of Tanqueray. She checked the one underneath it which was full of Plymouth and Beefeater. Eloisa rubbed the heel of her palms against her forehead, careful not to smudge her makeup.

"Matty, where's the Bombay? Are we out?"

He shrugged. "The fuck would I know? That's all Quinn."

"Is it? Because this is the third time we've been out-out of something this month. Where's the inventory sheet?"

He waved in the direction of the desk he never used. It was piled with stacks of papers, logbooks, and envelopes.

"Maybe chill the fuck out, huh?"

You chill the fuck out, Vanilla Ice, she thought.

She went to the desk and began sorting through the piles. There was so much garbage piled on it that she doubted Quinn had done anything useful for a while. Finally, she found the book labeled Inventory in messy block writing. She flipped through it and saw enough to tell her that the book was absolutely useless to her. Quinn's handwriting was atrocious, and as far as she could tell, there was no rhyme or reason for his system. If it made sense, it made sense to him alone.

"You know, they make software to do this now. We could be, I don't know, using the computer," she motioned to the relatively new desktop that sat useless in the corner, "instead of whatever this is."

"Goddamn. Lou, if you want to set that up, be my fucking guest." He sat up, took a pull from the hose, and exhaled a plume of white smoke in her direction. "Matter fact- why don't you just do inventory from now on?"

"What? No, come on-"

"Nah, y'all seem to think you can run this business so much better than me- then show me you can do something other than run your damn mouth."

She wondered who he meant by y'all and assumed he meant Gia. At least she wasn't the only one.

"Oh, yeah, okay, and when would you like me to do that?"

Quinn allegedly came in before his shift on Wednesday, but there was no way Eloisa was about to give up a day off.

She tossed the book back on top of a wobbly pile causing a landslide to cascade to the floor.

"I don't fucking know. Figure it out. Put it on your timesheet. Damn. Imma go catch a smoke and call Sage." He threw the hose down and stormed out of the office. "And you'd better fucking pick that up," he shouted from the hall.

"Pinche bebé," she spat at his back.

She debated leaving the mess, but it would only be someone else's to clean later. Jenna's, probably. At least he said he was going to talk to Sage. She would have to mention that to Gia.

Heaving a sigh, she squatted down and began picking up papers.

"I could run this place better. Look at this shit. Like this is a business and you can't keep your office organized? How does he even find anything in this shitho- hello."

A letter tucked under the desk caught her eye. She hadn't been paying attention to anything else she had been stacking into the pile, but the large red FINAL NOTICE was hard to ignore.

She scooped it up and swept the room and hallway, making sure she was alone before she unfolded it. Her eyes quickly scanned the words, adrenaline flooding her system. A bill, and the amount owed made her double-take. The Altar was popular- there were only a handful of strip clubs in Albuquerque to begin with- so there was no way they should have owed that much money. Someone had scribbled paid and a date at the bottom of the page, but the red flags had been raised. Eloisa carefully tucked it into the back of the book and quickly picked up the rest.

Her heart racing, she pulled her phone out of her apron and sent a quick text. Hopefully, this was proof enough that something shady was happening.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" Angel asked.

They stood by the back with the door propped open while they talked. It had rained at some point, and the smell of damp concrete, gravel, and earth created a heady aroma that wafted in with the occasional cool breeze.

"And have Matty give you more shit? I'm good. I have a key. I have a phone. I know how to call 9-1-1. I'll be okay. Promise," she added at the skeptical look he was giving her.

"Yeah, I hear you, I just-" he stopped short as a familiar van pulled into the parking lot and the spot next to her car. "Huh. What's Nacho doing here?"

Eloisa's face and neck grew hot at his teasing tone.

"I don't know," she lied. "Doesn't he come here a lot?"

"Not after hours."

She shrugged in a way that she hoped said, 'I don't understand this man or what he does any more than you do,' but Angel bit his lower lip, and she knew he wasn't buying it.

"So," she prompted, abruptly changing the subject as Nacho approached. "You've been talking to Gia?"

She could tell he wanted to press further, but he took the bait.

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"For real?" He gave an approving nod. "You know, you're alright, Lou."

"Yeah, you're okay too."

It was a nice feeling, realizing that she maybe had a couple of work friends despite her fucked up circumstances.

"What's good, brother?" Angel asked, clapping Nacho on the back.

"Just picking up some stuff for Tuco. You heading out for the night?"

"Yeah. I'll leave you to it." He pointed at Eloisa. "Make sure you lock up, or else I'll never hear the fucking end of it. You got me?"

She gave a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

Unable to resist or fight back a smirk, he added, "You kids behave now."

Eloisa glared at him. "Bye, Angel."

When they were inside, and the door was closed, Eloisa rounded on Nacho.

"You couldn't have waited five more minutes? Now he thinks we're… you know."

"Fucking?" Nacho supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she hissed.

"Why do you care if Angel thinks we're fucking?"

He didn't even bother to hide the amusement in his voice as he leaned against the wall.

"Because your boy is chismoso. If he thinks we're… fucking," she said, fighting and failing to get the word out casually, "then everyone else is going to think so too."

"You every think you care too much about what other people think?"

"Hm. Not everyone can just collect money, get private lap dances, and breeze out of here whenever we feel like it."

And she was finally getting people to take her seriously, to see her as more than just Nacho's "find." She didn't want to backslide now.

They stared at each other for almost a full minute before he spoke again.

"What did you want to show me?"

She motioned for him to follow and led him into Matty's office. The desk was exactly how she'd left it- a gigantic mess. She grabbed the book and flipped it open to the back to get the letter.

"Okay," she began, tucking a piece of hair that had fallen out of her braid behind her ear, "So I found this earlier when Matty and I were arguing-"

"Why were you arguing?"

Eloisa started. Nacho was behind her now, his body close but not quite enough to be touching. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her train of thought, and regretted it. She could smell the leather from his jacket and a faint whiff of cologne.

"Not important," she said. "Here."

She held the letter up for him. He took it and opened it slowly. She watched while he read, barely daring to breathe while she waited for a response. When he was finished, he folded it back up and tapped it against his palm.

"Are there more?"

"I don't know," she replied. "I didn't get a chance to look."

He looked down, his dark eyes locked on hers while he contemplated something.

"You have somewhere to be?"

She shook her head. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the couch.

"Let's get to work then."

A while later, Eloisa sat on the floor, her back against the wall as she stifled a yawn. Three stacks were piled in front of her. The trash pile in the middle was the largest.

From the chair at the desk, Nacho handed her another stack of papers. She sat them in her lap, took out her hair tie, and rolled her neck from side to side. She blinked, trying to give her poor eyes a break before glancing at her watch. It was late. Tomorrow would be a long day, but at least she didn't have to be back at the club.

Another piece of paper fluttered down into the trash pile.

"I don't get it," she said, picking up the small stack of papers they'd deemed important. "Utilities, rent, vendors… all late. Is he late when he pays- what's your boss' name? Tuco?"

"Not late- short. It's why I knew something was up. Matty was doing the best numbers until a couple months ago."

Well, at least now she knew why Nacho was gunning so hard for him.

"That's so weird." She ran a hand through her hair, staring at a spot on the floor while she tried to work it out. "The club seems like it's doing really well- I mean, as much I can say without, like, you know, looking at the numbers. Even if he's paying late… there's no way he should be getting final notices."

It was the kind of thing people who wanted to hide from bills did. She had certainly seen enough of it with her mom.

Nacho, who had been hunched forward with his chin resting on his fists while he watched her, straightened up in the chair.

"What did I say?"

"You could look at the numbers. You're an accountant, right?"

She brushed off the jolt she felt at this remembered bit of information.

"Yeah, but there's no way in hell Matty would ever let me."

"We don't need him."

"Nacho, we've been at this for over an hour, and I haven't seen anything that even looks like-"

He leaned forward, gently placing his fingers on her chin, and swiveled her face toward the computer. She froze, unsure what to do, not wanting to ruin the moment, until he released his grip and sat back again.

"Uhm- yeah, I mean, we could try."

He stood up and offered her a hand to help her off the floor. Reluctantly she took it, trying not to note his palm's warmth or calluses. She'd forgotten how nice, how strong his hands were. Again, too, she tried to ignore how close he stood behind her when they were at the computer. Respectful, but close enough that she could step back and bump into him. She wasn't sure he knew he was doing it, doubted that he was as painfully aware of her every movement as she was of his. She kept her body rigid, holding it close to the desk.

The computer took forever to boot up. There were two login options: 'Employees' and 'MrMattytastic.' Eloisa snorted and clicked 'MrMattytastic,' which prompted her to enter a password.

"Fuck," she whispered under her breath. "We only have three chances, or it'll lock us out."

"What's this?" Nacho asked, reaching forward to point at the password hint. She clicked it and groaned at the prompt, which was 'fave ###s.'

Eloisa typed '42069' and hit enter. It shook the screen and wiped what had been there. A miss. She turned to look at Nacho, whose face was now so close she could have leaned forward and kissed him. The thought and her racing heart jarred her back to her senses. It was late, and she was tired. She wasn't thinking clearly, but she needed to. Knock it off, she warned herself.

"I'm officially out of ideas."

"Is there a way around this?"

He was frustrated. She could tell by the way he took the mouse and began furiously clicking around the screen, futilely searching for another clue.

"If you're a hacker, maybe?" She rested her hand on his, stilling him. "Look, it's late. I'm tired. You're probably tired. Why don't we call it?"

"Yeah." He moved back, quickly slipping his hand out from under hers, and wiped a hand over his face. "Yeah, you're right."

She understood his disappointment. They'd been onto something. But at least they had the bills. It wasn't damning, but it was a start. She watched as he bent down and picked them up from the floor before tossing them onto the couch with his jacket. He silently picked up the stack of keep papers and put them back on the desk while Eloisa threw the trash in the bin where it belonged.

It was a quiet walk outside, both lost in their own thoughts, but it was comfortable for once. When Eloisa locked up, and they were in their vehicles, Nacho rolled down his passenger window and motioned for her to do the same.

"Good work tonight," he called out.

The compliment caught her off-guard, and she smiled.

"Thanks. We make an okay team. I guess."

"You guess." He snorted. "Goodnight, Eloisa."

"Goodnight, Nacho."

It wasn't until she was almost home that she realized it was the first time since they'd met at the bar that he'd called her by her full name.