Kept

“I can't. I'm tired. And still a little drunk.” I decided that once you entered an interrogation room, honesty was actually the best policy. Except about the fact that I may or may not have been an escort. The Boston Buyer’s Club was kind of like Fight Club. Number one rule: there was no Boston Buyer’s Club. And I could tell what this detective was trying to get at. He only asked me a few questions about the judge, but he asked me about my activities that evening at least three times. I was tired of going over the story again and again. It hadn't changed. I met the judge at a local bar during cocktail hour, and he invited me to his room. I planned on meeting him at the hotel, but when I arrived, he wasn’t there yet. I was let into the room where he had champagne set up, I drink a little too much, and then the detective showed up. I honestly had nothing to with his murder. I didn't know how many more times I could say it.

“I don't know anything,” I mumbled.

“If I need to bring the captain in to continue to question you, I will. And he's not as nice as I am.”

My head shot up. “Is that right? I will have you know I have every intention of becoming a lawyer, and I know you cannot threaten me. Also, when the hell can I get my phone call?”

I had no idea who I was going to call, but it didn't matter. I was supposed to get one, and I was sticking to my guns. My two options were Alexis, who would completely lose it when she found out I was in jail, or Monique, who I was going be a problem for before even before I finished my first job.

Suddenly, the door opened, and instead of me seeing an older burly looking man, their captain, I saw a beautiful confident woman.

“I see that you have one of my girls in your custody. I can’t imagine that she's done anything wrong, detective. This all seems like harassment to me.” Monique wore a business suit, and it seemed like all the air was sucked out of the room. I didn't even think I could talk.

“Looks like you don't even need that phone call,” he spat out at me. “Monique.” He nodded towards her.

“Stephen, I should've known it was you.”

I looked at her. “How did you even know I was here?”

She smiled at me sweetly. “Oh, honey, the judge’s murder is all over the news. Though I can't imagine why you're here, actually.” She looked pointedly at the detective. “Because you’ve had hardly any interaction with the judge tonight. And there's one more thing that really eludes me about this conversation. Motive.”

The detective stood up, and folded his arms. “And you know someone who has more motive than her?”

Monique set her purse down on the table; it looked more like a briefcase. Made me wonder if she had some sort of law experience, and that's why she was here. Or if she was here because she was in charge of me, and I was her problem to solve.

“Oh, you mean like his wife?”

“His wife?” I choked out. “I didn't know he had a wife!” I put my head in my hands again.

Perfect. Now there was someone else who was going to try to jump up and down on me. Someone besides both Monique and the detective. My first night was shaping up to be probably the worst I would ever have. At least I was going to get it over with now.

“And what would his wife want him dead for?”

Monique pointed her nose up in the air. “Oh, I don't know… a three million dollar payout? I mean that is an awfully high life insurance policy. Especially since it was only taken out three months ago. And we all know that the judge had more than one side girl.”

The detective pointed at her. “Ha! You admit that she's a call girl.”

Monique shook her head, her long hair swaying back and forth. “I admit no such thing.” Then, she moved closer to him, so that they were mere inches apart. “Also, I hate to remind you, Stephen, but I know more about your men out there than you do. I know where they lay their heads at night, and where they drink after work. And I know everything that their wives don't. I could out seventy percent of your precinct if you wanted me to.” She moved away from him, and turned her back on both of us. “Or, you could just allow my client to leave.” She turned around, and looked at him again. “And never bother her again. Obviously, she's distressed by this tragedy, of what happened to a man she just met. There's no reason to upset a young girl any further. Isn’t that right, Detective?”

I was impressed. I sat back in my chair, feeling slightly relieved.

“I don't make any promises. Just get the hell out of my interrogation room.”

I looked at Monique, and she nodded, grabbing her bag, and opening the door for me. My belongings were waiting at the desk in the front, so I quickly grabbed them, and followed her out into the parking lot. An officer held the door open, and Monique winked at him as we left.

“Holy shit! That was awesome. Are you like a lawyer for the club or something?”

Monique turned on me, her skin becoming a deep purple. “Don't you ever make a mistake like that again! My girls only ever get one mistake. And then I drop you. Do you understand me?”

I nodded. “But I really don't know what I did. I had nothing to do with him getting murdered, I promise.”

“I know. And honestly I'm really sad about the judge. He was one of the good guys. You have just got to be more careful. Someone knocks on the door? You don't answer it. Because you were never there. Somebody breaks in? You always have an escape route. You have to be stealthy; we live in the shadows. It's the only way to stay safe. The only way to keep our secret.”

I nodded again. She seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being. Or maybe the Madame had told her that if I got in trouble, or even worse, killed, that I was going to be her problem to deal with. And I could tell that Monique had gained a lot of respect in the club. I wasn't trying to lose her any of it on my first day at work.

The sun was just about to rise, as she opened her car door. I had just pulled

out my phone to call a cab.