And the only way to do that was to somehow find him away from Kings Stadium and approach him there. It would be a little like tracking a lion in its natural habitat, knowing there was the risk of getting mauled.
I knew Sean Donovan frequented a dance club on 10th Avenue called Maxie’s New York. The place was always teaming with celebrities and groupies, and was almost as hard to get into as Fort Knox.
But, with the right look and the right credentials, maybe Katie Holmes, former Playboy Playmate turned serious journalist, just might be able to get inside.
Kate
It was nearly midnight when Dru and I stepped out of the cab in front of Maxie’s New York. The rumor was that the stars didn’t come out to play until after midnight; like late night vampires crawling from their coffins and crypts. Being famous must be exhausting. I was already trying not to yawn. It was a work night; and hours past my bedtime.
I stood on the sidewalk and watched as hordes of young, scantily-dress party goers lined up at Maxie’s front door.
There were two large bouncers at the door, serving as the guardians of the gate.
They scanned the crowd like Terminators, selectively choosing who got in and who didn’t. Apparently, the shorter the dress and bigger the tits, the higher the chances of getting inside.
The lucky few who got inside would party the night away. The rest would end up waiting on the sidewalk until they gave up and went home.
“I’m not sure this was such a good idea,” I said, nodding at the line that was growing longer by the minute.
Dru snorted a laugh. She said, “Don’t worry. I have a plan. Give me one of your Playboy cards.” I gave her a card from my clutch, along with a confused look.
“Okay, wait here,” she said. She was wearing a pair of mirrored Rayban Aviators, even though it was pitch dark outside. She smiled at me from over the top of the glasses and held up a finger. “And give me a sexy little wave when I point at you.”
“What?”
“Just follow my lead,” she said. I watched her stroll up to one of the bouncers. Dru was wearing skin tight black leather pants and motorcycle boots. Up top, she had on a black t-shirt and black leather jacket. She had spiked her hair and had the Raybans covering her eyes. She reminded me of Joan Jett was she was young. She oozed attitude and shoved through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.
I stood on the curb with my feet wedged into the stilettos, and my tits and ass squeezed into the tight red dress. I had obviously put on a couple of pounds since I had worn the dress, but Dru said I filled it out perfectly.
I had teased out my red hair and let it fall naturally on my shoulders, and let Dru do my makeup using a YouTube video as her guide. I had cleavage that Dru said made her drool, and an ass like a Kardashian. I was the perfect package. Again, Dru’s words, not mine.
I watched her hand the bouncer the forged business card. He squinted at the card for a moment, then leaned down so Dru could speak into her ear. She turned toward me and pointed a finger at me.
The bouncer’s eyes followed her finger. I licked my lips and gave them a little wave. The bouncer handed Dru the card and gave her a nod. She waved me over.
“Are we in?” I asked, taking Dru’s hand.
“We are in,” Dru said with a smile.
“Have a good time, Miss Holmes,” the bouncer said, stepping aside to let us pass as the crowd booed our preferential treatment. Someone yelled, “FUCK YOU, SLUT!” I took it as confirmation that my disguise was working. The other bouncer opened the door and gave us a little bow as we went inside.
We were immediately assaulted with a wave of bass that felt like a concussion grenade going off. The music was so loud I could feel it vibrating through my entire body.
We stood at the door for a moment, giving our eyes time to adjust to the darkness. The dancefloor was already packed. Hundreds of dancers jumped up and down and swayed to the driving beat.
I held on tight to Dru’s hand and let her lead the way. She elbowed a path up to the bar and ordered a beer for herself, and a wine cooler for me.
“Do you think he’s here?” I asked, tilting the wine cooler to my lips and surveying the crowd. I had never been to a New York dance club and boy, was I out of my element.
I was starting to doubt my own plan when I spotted him, Sean Donovan, sitting at a table on a raised tier between four girls with boobs bigger than mine. The table was covered with empty beer bottles and shot glasses. A very large black man stood between the dancers and the VIP area where Sean was holding court.
“There he is,” I said nervously. “What do I do?”
Dru lifted the sunglasses to the top of her head and said, “You go over, you give him the card and flash him your tits, just like we planned.”
“Got it. Give him the card and flash my tits. Wish me luck.”
I took a long swig of the wine cooler, followed by a deep breath, and started making my way across the dance floor. It seemed to take forever, pushing my way through the crowd. When I finally emerged on the other side of the crowd, I nearly stumbled and fell into Sean’s bodyguard’s thick arms.