That night, Malibu was back at the Kit Kat Club, seated in front of her easel. A few hours into her shift and she hadn’t had a single customer. She could sense Hilda casting irritated glances her way. Malibu’s inability to generate business wasn’t due to low customer turnout at the club. The place was hopping with rowdy wine guzzlers and rummies. The bartenders couldn’t keep up with demand. The girls working the room vamped the patrons with wide, come-hither eyes before taking tipsy women by the hand and leading them to one of the back rooms. Hidden speakers piped disjointed techno music into the room. Malibu listened to the music and tried to predict where it was going.
Just after ten, the front door swung open and Max entered the club. He weaved through a maze of bodies until he reached
