How To Save A Life (How To Series Book 2)

Chapter 25: The Legendary Christian Masters

     The scripted marquee of 4Play glowed red like a majestic inferno of sin beneath L.A.'s clear starry night sky, casting a signal to their male clientele to stop and come hither, let go of their inhibitions for an hour or two and allow their minds and hormones to run rampant within its walls. He was neither a regular nor a potential client. Well, at least not tonight. This was strictly a reconnaissance mission, a notion he returned to as he slowed his Porsche to the curb, stopping alongside the valet.

Christian looked toward the entrance of the club but there was no sign of Jason. His gaze darted to the dashboard clock: 7:38. No need to worry himself unnecessarily. It was still early. The valet, a younger Hispanic gentlemen with a maroon vest and white button down shirt came around the car. He sighed softly but in the instance of saving time, figured he might as well take the option.

No sooner had he put the car in park and opened his door, did the valet step forward to greet him. "Good evening, sir, welcome to 4Play."

He regarded him with a nod of his head, unbuckled his seat belt and slid easily out of the car. "Good evening."

The valet handed him a ticket and he generously stepped aside, allowing the young man access. With the reassurance that his vehicle would be well taken care of, he tucked the ticket beneath his dark grey Armani suit and fastened the top button. Once his car departed, he straightened his tie and strolled toward the club, the evening air pleasantly crisp against his face.

A maroon awning covered the small inclined walkway leading up to the entrance door, flanked by two wrought iron guard rails. A couple palm trees stood off to the right wrapped in a string of sparkly gold lights. An African American bouncer, built like that of a pro basketball player and as tall as the entrance itself, stood guard in a black suit and tie, eyeing him curiously as he started up the front walk.

"Hi, can I help you?" The man asked, neither friendly nor unfriendly.

"Yes. . ." He stopped five feet from the guard, his lips parting, uncertain about how he should proceed. Should he pull out his cell phone and show him a picture of Eric, simply to inquire whether or not he'd seen him pass through his door in the last twelve hours? Surely he would remember the scumbag's face, wouldn't he? Shifting his weight, he slipped one hand in his pocket and set the other upon the guard rail. "I'm looking for my cousin. I was wondering whether or not you may have seen him stop by today."

The man snorted and shook his head. "I see so many people pass through here day after day, both men and women, some famous, some not. They all start to look alike after a while."

He sighed softly, glancing in the direction of the street. "Understandable."

"I might be able to help you." Pursing his lips, the bouncer cocked his head in thought. "What's this cousin of yours look like?"

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he removed his hand from the rail and reached into his jacket, fishing out his cell phone. His heart gave a hard squeeze as his princess's rhythm appeared on the screen. Still beating—a surprising but nicely relaxed rate of sixty-eight BPM. With a long soft exhale, he closed the app and brought up his photos, quickly scanning through his library for the scumbag's face. . . and that shit-eating grin that went with it.

With the photo on screen, he took a step closer and handed the bouncer his phone. The man stared at the image for all of three seconds then shook his head and handed it back to him. "Sorry, I haven't seen him. Least not today."

He scowled as he tucked the phone beneath his jacket, the walkway vibrating beneath his Italian leather shoes with a new arrival, prompting him to turn his head.