Free Royal Flush by Stephanie Caffrey

among his many hobbies.
    By the time we got back upstairs to the club, there were only a few people in front of us waiting to get in. Not being a regular clubber, I was amused by the fact that admission for men was ten dollars more than for women. When we entered, we found ourselves in a large, chic room filled with swanky-looking lounge areas, where well-dressed groups of people were hanging out and mingling. An Asian theme permeated the atmosphere, with deep reds and blacks covering the walls and an abundant use of expensive-looking bamboo.
    "Let's do a walk-through," I said.
    "With pleasure," Carlos said, eyeing one of the waif-like waitresses passing by. "By the way, who are we looking for?"
    I gave Carlos the short version as we wandered around the lounge area. The lounge tables were lit with attractive little candles, which seemed to flicker in concert with the loud music thumping in from the rest of the club.
    "Drinks?" said a little voice from behind us.
    When I turned around, the waitress couldn't hide a grimace as she glanced down at my top.
    "Not right now," I said.
    Carlos piped in. "Jack and Coke, please."
    She wrote "JC" down on her pad and flitted away.
    "Jack and Coke? That's what college kids drink."
    Carlos shrugged. "I like it."
    "But why mix expensive bourbon with soda? It doesn't make sense."
    "It's not bourbon, bourbon comes from Kentucky. Jack is from Tennessee. So keep your snobby opinions to yourself." Carlos was enjoying himself a little too much. But he had a point—I had to admit.
    There was no sign of Jojia anywhere in the lounge, so we stood in the corner like idiots and waited for Carlos' drink.
    "Seventeen," the waitress said. Carlos didn't bat an eyelash at the price, and he didn't move a muscle, either. After a few awkward seconds, I realized he was waiting for me to whip out my credit card. I sighed and went along with the program, although I refused to leave more than a dollar as a tip.
    "Let's head in," I said.
    We found ourselves in one of the largest rooms I'd ever been in, a two-story cathedral of metal girders and spotlights. In the middle were a few hundred people jumping up and down to the pulsing music coming from a stage on the far side. The stage had about ten giant TVs perched above it, all proclaiming the name of the DJ, a guy calling himself Wolfhound.
    "You ever hear of Wolfhound?" I asked Carlos in an almost-yell, trying to cut through the music. He was about a decade younger than I was, so he had a better chance of knowing what the cool kids were up to.
    "Yeah, he's big. I think he's here probably three times a month."
    "Hmm. Well, let's move around and see if we can find her. Then I'll come up with a plan."
    We started with the oversized couches that encircled the dance floor, most of which were filled with people who looked like they'd had too much to drink. No sign of Jojia anywhere, which meant we had to hit the dance floor.
    "Care to dance?" I asked.
    Carlos looked at the crowd skeptically. "That ain't dancing." The crowd was mostly gyrating to the heavy bass.
    "What, you prefer to waltz?"
    "Beats the hell out of whatever this is," he said.
    I dragged his arm again and pulled him behind me out into the crowd. Carlos and I half-danced while we looked around for Jojia. With the multi-colored spotlights shining down on us, and with the strobe effects from behind the stage, it was hard to get a really good look at anyone. Still, after fifteen minutes of squinting and craning my neck, I was beginning to think she wasn't there.
    "Let's take a break," I said. We found ourselves a spot on a half-occupied couch off to the side of the dance floor.
    "So why are we looking for this chick exactly?" he asked.
    "I find her interesting."
    Carlos smiled. "Good enough for me."
    "She's tight with Kent, the guy I'm checking on. I don't want to get too close to him, but this Jojia could provide us some good information. I'm dying to know what he's told her about himself."
    "You mean whether