Mob Wife

Mob Wife 3

Mob Wife 3: A Talk With Ms. Coleman

Brooklyn sat at the bar, eyeing the bartender as he made her drink. He pulled a toothpick from a small container underneath the bar counter, poking an olive to place in her glass. He walked over to Brooklyn, a smile on his face, "on the house."

Brooklyn took the glass from his grasp, thanking him loud enough form to hear over the loud music. She put her to the straw, taking a small sip. She cleared her throat at the burning sensation that traveled down. The flavor rested on her tongue, her eyes fixed on the bartender as he now dried a small glass with a hand towel, "can I ask you a question?"

The bartender, Jeff, took his attention off the crowd and found himself staring back at Brooklyn, "sure. What's up?" wiping the bottom of the glass.

Brooklyn had already studied this guys appearance. He was a little buff, the size of his black shirt helping to show off his muscles. She believed he wore dark blue jeans, but every time the lights in the club would change colors, it was hard to really see. She speaks, "I want to request a dance by a specific person. How can I do that?"

Jeff smirked. He sensed Brooklyn's vibe was freaky, he didn't know she wasn't shy about it though. Most dances at this club turned into sex; everyone knew it. But, that's not why Brooklyn is there, "head up to one of the guards. Say you would like a personal dance from whoever you want, pay him twenty dollars, and that guard will direct you to a certain room," Jeff answered. He cut his eyes low at her, "who do you want to see? The Constructor?" The Constructor is a popular dancer at the club. He pleased men and women for a very large amount of money.

Brooklyn shook her head to match her answer, "no. I want to see Butterfly,"  his brows raising in shock.

"Really? She's not a great dancer. She only works here because her pimp owns the place," he said with honesty.

Brooklyn sent a smile, slowly climbing down from her seat as she sipped more of  her margarita, "I like to see for myself. Thank you again for the drink," she paused, unsure of his name.

"Jeff," he told her.

"Jeff," Brooklyn repeated. She finished her drink before leaving the bar and following the tasks Jeff had informed her of. Brooklyn had no idea where Olivia lived. She could've asked one of the officers to look it up in the system, but that was too risky. It'll only raise suspicion, and it was not in her jurisdiction to be sticking her nose into police work.

Brooklyn does know one guy who will hear her out without any judgement; Detective Perez. She's worked on a few cases with him, creating the best drawing she can for nameless and faceless suspects.

Brooklyn spotted a guard dressed in a black suit, an earpiece positioned in his ear as he kept his eyes on the crowd for assurance of no fights breaking out. The same guard eyed Brooklyn with squinted eyes as she approached him, standing a few feet below him, "may I help you, ma'm?" He voiced in a deep tone.

Brooklyn nodded. Smiling would give him a reason to suspect she was up to something, possibly working for the feds for intelligence, "I would like a private dance with butterfly," the guard held his hand out, looking at her for a second then away from her. She smacked his hand, a twenty dollars bill falling into his palm. He gripped the money, crossing his hands again.

"Room O-two," room two. He continues, I'll have someone send her up in a few minutes."

Brooklyn whispered a thank you before walking around him, up the flight of stairs. She sighed, chills taking over her as if a gust of wind hit her body. She wore a thick grey trench coat, so those chills were from her being nervous.