The Prima - Chapter One
Dan Mangan slammed the shot of Jameson’s down, grateful for the fiery burn
in his throat. Some days, it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.
It was bad enough he had to meet with that kooky widow to assure her that
yes, her husband was truly dead and not hiding out in Florida like she’d
believed. While he had enjoyed the trip to Sunshine State to follow up on
the lead, dealing with the widow had not been easy. Her hysterics added to
his headache and she threw the various documented evidence back at him,
insisting her husband had run off with a twenty-one-year blonde and left
her with a mountain of debt and no way to pay it.
By the time he left, Dan wouldn’t have blamed the old bugger if he had
indeed run off with a newer model, and would’ve wished him well in his new
life. Short of exhuming his corpse, he couldn’t give her any further proof.
And she didn’t have the money for that, nor criminal justification. He was
somewhat doubtful she would pay their invoice for the services provided
His favorite bar was noisy tonight, which didn’t help his headache. But
drinking alone in his apartment made him feel like a loser, and he wasn’t
sure when Trixie would be done with her surveillance job.
Dan’s mood brightened when he saw his favorite bartender, Onyx running the
show. The tall Goth woman’s black jeans and t-shirt showed off her Marilyn
Monroe figure. Tonight, her t-shirt hugged her ample chest, just the right
size in Dan’s opinion, and with the short t-shirt sleeves, he could see the
tattoo ‘sleeves’ decorating her arms. Dan didn’t mind tattoos on a woman at
all, he has several of his own, and he appreciated the art on Onyx. His
ex-girlfriend, Kona, had had a beautiful one on her shoulder that she and
her best friend, Yasmina had gotten on spring break one year. A hibiscus for Kona to reflect her Hawaiian heritage, jasmine for Yasmina, the flower she was named after.
Dan pushed Kona from his thoughts. Not tonight, he thought, focusing on
Onyx. Her jeans were snug enough to hug the curves without being too tight.
The ebony hair was in a long braid, the severe bangs highlighting what Dan
thought to be blue eyes. It was hard to tell in the dim light. Her heavy
kohl eyeliner and dark purple lipstick stood out against the stark white
skin. While the Goth look had never really appealed to him, he wouldn’t
mind a few tumbles with her. Not for the first time, he wondered what she
looked like without all the makeup. Some nights when he came in, she
sported artwork on her face in black kohl, and during October, she often
decorated her face as a sugar skull. She only ever went by the name ‘Onyx’.
He had taken his usual seat near the end of the bar where the servers
picked up their drinks, and within a minute, a shot was in front of him. He
grinned at her and saluted her with the shot before downing it. One heavily
made-up eye winked at him.
He could feel himself relaxing as he nodded to some of the other regulars.
Johnny and Jake, the bouncers, had greeted him at the door by his last
name, the only way they ever did. Carla, one of the servers gave him a
saucy wink. Dan just chuckled. He wasn’t about to get involved with the
women where he relaxed. He had other bars where he picked up women, but
never here. Not after the first and last time he had made that mistake. The
servers were more than friendly with him, often brushing up against him as
they picked up drinks. He was known for being harmlessly flirtatious, a
good tipper and he had even stepped behind the bar to help out one night
when too many of the staff had called off.
Billy Joel’s ‘Piano Man’ was playing from the jukebox, and Dan sniggered at
the appropriateness of the song for tonight. But the bar was hopping, and
multiple people were on their way to hookups for the night. From what Dan
saw, pretty much everyone was having a good time.
“You’re looking harried, Mangan,” Onyx paused in front of him as she set
another shot down. Onyx always knew when he was ready for another.
“It’s been a day,” he admitted.
She reached over and patted his hand, her long, almond-shaped fingernails
black with polish, her fingers sporting black stone rings. “You’re safe
now.”
Dan couldn’t help but smile at her. His phone showed no texts from Trixie.
When she got bored on stakeouts, she would text him dirty humor and vulgar
cartoons she found on Facebook or Instagram. Nothing for a while; she must
have something good to watch, he mused.
He scrolled through his phone list as he downed the second shot. He
wouldn’t mind some female company later if his headache eased off. There
were a number lovely ladies who always welcomed his call. Of course, the
whiskey wouldn’t help his headache, he thought, closing his phone screen
and slipping it into his back pocket. Sleep was really what he needed
tonight.
As if reading his mind, Onyx set a glass of water in front of him. Dan
winked at her and turned to watch the bar. He couldn’t help it. He might
not be a Naval Commander anymore, but he still had to watch a room
instinctively, know where the exits were, and be in a position to spot any
potential trouble.
Onyx was nearby, picking up money left and an empty glass. He tapped the
bar to get her attention and she looked up at him with a smile. She leaned
over to hear him.
“Who’s hustling Carl over there?” he asked. “The dolly in the painted-on
leather pants??”
“Trust a man to notice her ass, no matter how flat it is,” Onyx laughed.
Dan idly pictured Onyx’s curvaceous backside in leather pants and liked the image. Usually, she wore black jeans.
“Some new girl. She wandered in and started picking them off one by one. So
far it hasn’t been a problem, but I’ve got Johnny keeping an eye on them.”
“She looks like trouble,” Dan said.
Onyx nodded. “I have no doubt she is. A-cup boobs like that, with a push up
and a bad wig? Total scam from the word go.”
The hustler in question tossed her platinum blonde curls and giggled at
something. Dan felt his revulsion stir. If he was still in his twenties,
he’d be all over that, but he knew better these days. From the way she
moved, she knew what she doing, catching every male eye in the place. Her
red leather pants looked painted on; her crop top revealed a concave waste
with a sparkly piercing. The ridiculous long curls were definitely a wig,
and he wondered how long it took her to put on that much lipstick. Her
short frame would lean seductively across the table for an unnecessarily
complex shot, with almost every male eye in the place was on her narrow
ass. The push up bra did make her top look bigger, but she was definitely
making the most of her small breasts, he thought.
Dan personally preferred a larger size breast on his women but he wasn’t
overly picky. He definitely liked his women soft and curvy, but he knew a
lot of these men were tipsy or drunk, not picky, and most in here were
single or had a wife they were escaping from. A young, made-up blonde prancing around, wiggling her ass like that would bring them like flies to honey.
His eyes fell on a young man in his twenties, dressed in dark clothing,
leaning against the wall. If smoking was still allowed in bars, Dan
suspected the guy would have a cigarette in his hand. Instead, he sipped a
longneck, his eyes casting about furtively.
“Found her companion,” he said to Onyx.
“Squirrelly looking kid casing the joint?”
“Yep.” He was impressed at her astuteness.
“Johnny’s got an eye on him, too.”
“What do you think the hustle is?” Onyx asked, leaning forward and resting
her arms on the top of the bar next to him. “My guess is cash, but if
straddling the table like she’s about to bone it doesn’t work, she’ll lure
one of those poor bastards outside. The kid’ll jump him, take all the
cash.”
Dan took a swig of the Guinness she had set in front of him. True to his
Irish roots, he typically stuck to the products of the motherland.
“That’s what I’m betting too.”
Dan watched Onyx take a sip from a water bottle, and not for the first
time, thought of his old friend Honey Wheeler. Sometimes the way Onyx
moved, with such natural grace, he thought about Honey. Which reminded him
to call her back about this weekend. She was nagging him and Trixie to get
together for lunch via text message.
They didn’t get together as often as any of them wanted, life was just too
busy. With half the BWGs scattered around the country, the remaining locals
tried to meet up once a month. A few times a year, Brian would take the
train up from Johns Hopkins in Baltimore for a long weekend. Dan suspected
there might still be a little spark between Honey and Brian. Trixie
admitted neither answered their phones on that night. Honey had more room
in the old Wheeler apartment that she now occupied, than he or Trixie did,
but he suspected Brian wasn’t using the guest room.
None of the teenage romances had worked out for the Bob-Whites in the long
run, but the BWGs remained steadfast friends. With a Facebook group, group
texts, the occasional group chat, they kept in regular touch. When Jim
could get away from the wife and kids, he would join them for their monthly
get together. Jim’s wife Wendy was a lovely lady. The couple had been married almost twenty years and had five children. Dan's offer to buy them twin beds after the third pregnancy announcement had earned him a glare.
Jim worked long hours as the Dean of a local community college and had
started teaching a class last year.
Dan’s attention turned back to the dolly at the pool table. She was cozying
up to one of the more attractive men at the pool tables, trying to get him
to play her.
“Want me to hustle her?” Dan asked Onyx with a smirk.
“You might catch something requiring powerful antibiotics,” was Onyx’s dry
answer before she was hailed from the other end of the bar.
Dan laughed and took another swig of his beer.
Dan was getting to ready leave when the commotion started. Several of the
men had drifted away from the pool table as the dolly cleaned up, but her
boyfriend had had enough of her rubbing up against other men.
He watched as Johnny and Jake intervened, and threw the boyfriend out.
Moments later, when her pouting and A-cup breasts didn’t sway them, she
left in a huff.
“It’s never dull here,” Dan chuckled as he signed his credit card
statement.
“New fun every night. Have a good one, Mangan,” Onyx replied.
“You too,” he slipped his black leather jacket on and headed out the door.
He checked his phone to see a message from Trixie.
Got what we need. See you in the a.m. – Moll Dick
***
Dan was slow getting to the office the next morning but amused to see he
still made it before Trixie. There was a reason their office hours didn’t
start until nine a.m., with voicemail available in the off hours. Trixie
couldn’t get out of bed before eight, and while he was always up early, he
spent the first hour and a half of the morning working out in in the gym in
their apartment building.
He started the coffeemaker for a fresh pot, despite already having two
cups. He had been out too late, intrigued by the bar’s hustler. The coffee
dulled the edges of his headache and he refilled his water bottle from
their cooler.
Sitting at his desk, he browsed his emails. He could do it on his phone but
he hated reading the tiny print and trying to type back. And if Trixie saw
him squinting at his phone, she’d tease him about needing reading glasses.
Seeing Mart’s email address, he opened it. Thank God Mart had dropped his
obnoxious habit years ago of using ridiculously big words in conversation.
It sure came in handy as a successful Hollywood screenwriter, but drove his
friends crazy.
Danny boy,
We’re rocking on this new script. You’ll be VERY excited if I get it
cast properly with the bombshell I have in mind. So glad I kept some
creative control on this one.
Got a new girl you’d like. Kind of reminds of you in a way—Navy, wears
a leather jacket and swears a lot. She’s dynamite in bed, too.
Mart the Man
Dan chuckled. “Wrap it up, Bub,” he muttered. “You don’t need a third set
of alimony and child support to pay.”
His phone beeped, signaling an incoming text message. It was Honey.
Seriously, you two, lunch this Sunday. 11:30 at Bruno’s.
Dan replied with a thumbs-up emoji. He liked to say that as Generation X,
they adapted to technology like millennials, but bitched about it like
Boomers.
Likewise, he and Trixie were old school enough that instead of relying on
CC cameras to do their jobs like many cops did now, they did a lot of leg
work and talking to people. That’s where the real information was and part
of why Belden-Mangan Investigations was so successful. That, and the fact
Matthew Wheeler’s corporate business gave them steady cash flow.
Filling a large mug of coffee, he heard the door opening and then Trixie
blew in.
“Hey, you beat me in!”
“Early worm and all that.” He poured a second cup for her, dumping in
enough sugar to kill a rat before handing it to her.
“Thanks. I need an extra pick me up this morning. I followed that creep
last night for hours but finally got him on camera meeting the blonde.”
“Pictures?”
“Yep. I couldn’t see in the window of their room once they were inside, but
we’ve got them together at least, outside a seedy motel.”
“Awesome.” Dan returned to his desk. He put his feet up until Trixie gave
him a dirty look, then removed them.
Their small office was tastefully decorated and furnished, thanks to
Honey’s masterful skill. The walls were a soft peach, the floors a dark
gray carpet with a subtle lighter gray pattern. Their desks matched in dark
oak, though Trixie’s was noticeably messier. There were chairs for clients,
and a private room where they could meet with clients more discreetly, or
if one had a client at their desk. The artwork was all Van Gogh, a favorite
of Honey’s, along with some personal photos of the BWGs in their youth, and
others.
They had upgraded their computers and systems last year, with the help of a
young computer whiz. It wasn’t unusual to subcontract out, in cash, to the
twenty-one-year old for “difficult to obtain” computer records. Trixie had
developed strong computer skills but sometimes, the need called for a
little more, and by someone who didn’t have as many scruples. Cash
transactions bought silence and anonymity.
“Hey, you’ve got that protection gig starting tomorrow,” Trixie said,
scanning through her files.
“Yay.” Dan didn’t care for security assignments, but business had been a
little slow the last few weeks. With his military background, providing
personal security on occasion was a natural fit. “Making sure a prima
ballerina doesn’t actually eat a bite of food and explode.”
Trixie snorted. “Don’t be a jerk.”
“I still don’t get why they hired us instead of private security.”
“Old friend of Matthew’s, some investor of the dance company. He wants the
best, and like it or not, that’s us. Once Matthew mentioned your Naval
background, he was all over it.”
Dan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny his Naval background helped bring
in cases sometimes. His military career also gave him plenty of connections
around the world. Having been a Master-At-Arms before working his way up to
Commander, it gave their firm an edge in providing security. Dan was also
always up to date on the latest about firearms and their regulations.
In addition to the BWG photos, several framed photos hung around the office
of Dan with Naval friends in uniform. Sometimes he missed those days, but
he relished being his own boss, well, except for Trixie, and his freedom.
He had loved the Navy but resigning his commission had been the right move.
Even his best friend, now an ex-SEAL heading up a task force in Hawaii had
agreed Dan needed to get out.
“Thanks for answering Honey. Saturday shouldn’t be a problem; your
ballerina is only here for a few days.”
“Yup.” Dan took a sip of his coffee. Their oversized mugs had their company
logo, an artistic blending of the B and M.
“You okay? It’s not like you to be disgruntled about spending a few days
around a bunch of pretty women.”
Dan made a face. “I dated a ballerina once. For about a week. The level of
snobbery and determination to be a prima was nauseating.”
“They’re not all like that, I’m sure” Trixie chided him as she spun in her
chair to face him. “And reaching prima status is like, the crème de la creme of their world. I’m not surprised if they are a
little snotty, though, they go through Hell to get there. They dedicate
their entire childhood and youth to being the best, and by age 30, they’re
considered done.”
Dan grunted, then chuckled. “She was fun in bed. Very limber.”
“Gross. Stop thinking with your penis, it’s going to get you into trouble
someday.”
Dan continued chuckling as he finished sifting through emails. “Hey, we’ve
got an email from Diana.”
Trixie came over and peered over Dan’s shoulder. “That’s rare. I usually
have to check her Instagram to see where she is.”
“Says her new modeling show has been picked up and will be based here in
New York City.”
“Wow, I didn’t think it would be picked up, since Tyra Banks has America’s
Next Top Model going on.”
“Evidently Banks’ ratings is plummeting and rumored to be on the way out.
That creates an opportunity for something new that her show’s concept can
fill that Heidi Klum’s doesn’t.”
“Admit it, you watched that show for the scantily clad women!” Trixie
laughed.
Dan grimaced. He had watched a couple of early season episodes of America’s
Next Top Model and couldn’t stand the shrillness and pettiness of the
contestants. He had dated more than one model and while a majority tended
to be shallow and sometimes vapid, not all models were, and none of the few
he had dated were anywhere near as petty and as ready to backstab each
other as the girls on that show.
“I wish her luck. I know her runway days are over.”
“Hit thirty and you’re as good as a corpse in the modeling world too,”
Trixie sighed. “Di’s practically ancient now in the industry. Good thing
she’s rich on her own but I know she’s invested all of her modeling money
in her cosmetics company. Matthew’s personal financial advisor helped her
set it up years ago.”
“Hey, we’ve got a consult request. Ugh, it’s another missing person case.”
Trixie made a face. “As in?”
“As in, ‘my wife died a couple years ago but I think she faked it and is
still alive.’ God, I’m sick of those.”
“Not another one? I hate those.”
“Me too. I’ll never forget Jake telling me about that case where he led the
mobster right to the WitPro relocation.”
“Jake is something of an idiot, at times.” Trixie chuckled. “He’s fun in
bed, though.”
“Don’t remind me of that, please,” Dan shuddered. Walking in on his best
friend and an old drinking pal up in Newfoundland had been a jarring
experience.
Trixie snorted. “Just saying.”
“This one is yours. I just finished with that crazy old lady, it’s your
turn.”
“Eh, send them the standard “we’re busy” email. I don’t want it either,”
Trixie laughed. “We can afford to pass on a couple of those.”
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Author’s Notes
- HUGE thanks to Trish and Lindsay fo taking this on to edit!
- Word Count, XXXX
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