Jada looked at her as if she were a moron. “You’re kidding, right? This is a great place to ambush me. The third day of school, these kids named Daniel and Tasha hid behind Coop’s car. They were working as a team.”

“Cagey of them.”

“They’re dead now,” Jada said with all kinds of satisfaction. “I tried to get Tasha to team up with me, but she’s one of the popular kids. She also likes Daniel.”

“Another woman being stupid over a man.”

Jada gave a world-weary nod. “I know. I’m going to be a psychologist someday.”

“Hard to imagine much of a future with Murder One on your rap sheet, but follow your dream.”

Jada grinned, her wide mouth and silver braces so winning that Piper forgave her for the ambush.

***

Tony, the club manager, had a big voice, a bigger smile, and an effusive personality, but Piper vowed to keep her eye on him anyway, although, since Graham had told him exactly why she was in the club, that wouldn’t be easy. At the staff meeting, Coop introduced her as the new digital strategist. She learned that Torpedo Head’s name was Jonah. He was the head bouncer and a former Clemson linebacker. Even though he didn’t seem to recognize her, his gaze was far from friendly—either because he had a naturally surly disposition or because he’d decided she wasn’t hot enough to work at Spiral. The other six bouncers also looked like former football players, a theory it didn’t take her long to confirm.

Tony briefed the servers on the premium brands they were pushing that evening. Piper found it interesting that Coop stepped in at the end to warn them about overserving guests. As the meeting broke up, she said, “You walk a fine line here.”

“I want to build a business based on people having a good time, not killing themselves.”

“Ever think about miniature golf?”

“Cute.”

At nine o’clock, the guests began spilling into the club—long-haired women in short skirts, stretchy dresses, silk blouses, and incredible shoes. Guys in sports coats, open-collared shirts, or pricey T-shirts that showcased their pecs. All of them seemed to be vying for the attention of the Oklahoma cowboy who’d come to Chicago by way of Miami and brought glory to their city. They swarmed him like wasps, pushing and gesticulating. The bouncers let it happen.

A woman in fitted leather shorts and another rocking a scarlet dress with a cutout midriff passed by. Piper only had one dress in her closet suitable for the job—the innocuous black number she’d had on eight days ago, the night she’d been caught. The one good thing about having worked in a cubicle was that she could wear jeans. Dressing up for a job was a pain.