Page 77 of Lucky In Love
“I’m hoping we can find one.”
A few minutes later two women strutted over, each one carrying a beer. Jackson and Doc each pulled a twenty from their wallets. They were practically straddled by the women as they handed them their bottle. They each quietly made the same request for information on Maeve’s sister before releasing the bill and sending the women away. Neither got an admission that they knew Quinn. They told them to tell the other girls and repeated the promise of a finder’s fee for viable info.
Shortly thereafter, a burly man from behind the bar approached them. Both men knew he was the bouncer, there to protect the girls and the establishment. But to sic the bouncer on them for asking about Quinn? That had to mean something.
“Gentlemen,” he said sternly as he reached their table. “I’m told you are interested in who the model was for our flyer.” He leaned over their table in what others would consider a threatening manner. It was clear his intention was to intimidate them.
“That’s right,” Jackson said, not backing down and showing no fear. “We’re private investigators hired by a young woman to find her sister, as there is a family emergency. She believes the model used for this flyer is her sister.”
He lifted the flyer from the table. “It’s an eye, for Christ’s sake. It could be anyone.”
“I’d know my sister’s eye if I saw it,” Doc said, staring the man down. “This is legit. And we checked our client out to be sure. Can you help us?”
“No, the model isn’t one of our girls. It was some rando-gig the owner booked her for, cash deal, got no info on her at all. Could be your girl’s sister or not. Either way, I got nothing for you. Now, if that’s all you wanted, finish up your beers and get out. Or stay and enjoy the show and companionship, if that’s all that’s on your mind. Got it?” He gave them one last stern look and then returned to the bar.
“Charming,” Doc said, watching his back as he walked away. “I’m not sure I believe him.”
“That makes two of us,” Jackson said.
They finished their beers, noticing that the girls gave their table a wide berth. No one was coming too close. As they were getting ready to leave, one of the girls who’d been dancing on stage passed by the table closer than needed. She discreetly dropped a napkin onto the table. The words ‘Private Room #4’ were written on it.
Both men knew that it could go one of two ways. Either she wanted to give them info with hopes of a payday, or someone else was waiting to question them further about why they were asking, and it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Doc stood first. “Let’s do this.”
The two men walked to the back corner and through the curtain beneath the ‘Private Rooms’ sign. The door to room number four was closed, as were all the others; ten in total, numbered in shiny gold signs. Jackson opened the door as Doc kept watch behind them.
There was a lone woman in the room, seated on a red leather couch. She was fully clothed. Jackson had not seen her in the main room. He cautiously stepped inside the room, scanning all of it to be sure no one was waiting to jump him. He pushed the door all the way open until it banged against the wall behind it. Doc came in behind him and closed the door.
“Hello,” Jackson greeted, gazing at the heavily made-up face of Quinn Daily. She looked a decade older than the pictures they had of her, and she looked harder. Life had taken a toll on her, and she hadn’t aged well.
“Quinn Daily,” Doc said. “Your sister, Maeve, hired us to find you.”
“So you say.” Her voice was raspy.
“Ciara is doing well. She’s a smart and happy child,” Jackson said. “But Maeve has a serious medical issue. She needs you to call her or go see her.”
“Maeve?” she asked, clearly surprised.
“Yes,” Jackson said. “I have her number in my phone. I could call her right now so you two could talk.”
“Can’t you just tell me what it is?” she asked. “I’m due back in L.A. on Monday. I’m just in for the St. Patrick’s Day weekend. I’m the guest headliner on the main stage.”
Jackson wasn’t sure if she was trying to impress them, but it sounded as though the news on her sister was an inconvenience. “I’m sure that’s some sort of big deal, but your sister and your daughter kind of need you.”
Quinn emitted an annoyed laugh. “Maeve made it clear she didn’t need or want anything from me when I signed the guardianship of Ciara over to her. Or didn’t she tell you that part of it? ‘Just go, Quinn. You’re worthless to us’. That’s what she said.”
“Things can change in a few years. I’m sure you’re not the same person now that you were then, and neither is Maeve,” Doc said. “The bottom line is that Maeve does need you now. And Ciara just might need her mother.”
“I’m not Ciara’s mother. Maeve is and always has been.” She shot to her feet and took a step towards them as she spoke, her voice elevated.
“You gave birth to her,” Jackson reminded her, though he had to agree with her. No, she was not Ciara’s mother, probably never really had been. She was nothing more than an egg donor and an embryo incubator. She clearly wasn’t a mother.
“Even that was more Maeve’s doing than mine. I was going to give the kid up for adoption, but Maeve was all ‘We can do this together!’ I think she just wanted to keep a piece of Blain.”
“Maeve could die, and Ciara would be put into the foster care system. Is that what you want?” Doc asked.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to be the drama queen of the family. Not Maeve.”