The entrance is framed by ridged marble columns and from above, the muses greet the guests with their shapely arms. Graceful in the humid breeze, their hair seems to flow. The neon sign bleeds its dirty pink over us. 

“Hey, Katia, how are you?" Lucas greets the lady behind the counter in the lobby. He props down his elbows on the marbled surface. She looks up at us over her glasses. I wonder what she thinks of us. 

The front lobby is crowded with tourists spilling out of the bar. We pick up foreign sounding words spoken softly through the air. The Hibiscus is a relic of the old red-light district. Now a nightclub and the only cabaret act in the city. 

“He's upstairs right now." Lucky pays her salary but she doesn’t have any patience for him. Or us. 

I glance down the stairs into the main showroom. Packed with guests. The music booms. Dancers are shadows on stage. The occasional whistle. 

“Still gives me the creeps,” Jorge says quietly, snaking his arm under mine. “I almost can’t stand being here.”

His eyes droop like he might cry, “You wanna go?”

“No, no. I’m fine", takes a deep breath. "Tonight is for Hapi.”

Sammy walks in with Purple. It’s her first time here. And it's not quite the best timing. But she smiles now and seems in a slightly better mood. They wait for us by the elevators.

The crystal chandeliers above glitter silently in their sculpted domes. 

———

"I've been wondering where he lives,” Purple finally speaks, timidly. Even so, I feel a sliver of enthusiasm. She takes in the great mirrors covering the walls and their golden, detailed frames. "It's a penthouse, isn't it? The kind they show in movies."

“Yes,” Lucas answers, “you need this key to go up to it.”

He spins the key in the lock and the elevator starts with a slight jolt. Purple has a safe distance from our emotional turmoil. She doesn’t have to care, really. She can’t. She saw Hapi in passing. A few times, at best. Exchanged a dozen words with him. Likely doesn’t know how Hapi helped Sammy. 

"He moved in a little while after you left,” Lucas says, lighting a cigarette.

"And before?” I ask.

"At my uncle’s for a couple of nights. He’d be safer at the Haus but, according to him, the Salamander is unbearable.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

The elevator comes to a steady stop and I feel my stomach sink. Purple pulls her long sleeves over her hands. 

A single ceiling lamp casts its dim glow over the dark marble floor. Cigarette smoke clings to the ceiling. A tall Russian guy I don’t know stands before us but his rigidity fades into a smile once he recognizes Lucas.

———

Golden light streams out of the half-closed bathroom. Steam fogs up the mirrors. Lucky sits on the edge of the bathtub and turns when he hears me walk in.

He still takes my breath away. 

Silver-blond locks over his damp forehead. The city lights through the window behind him. The buildings across the street are black silhouettes peppered with gleaming stars.

“Sweetheart, you’re back,” he says, and extends his hand to me. Rings decorate his supple fingers. Beautiful and monarchical. Hearing his voice makes me weak in the knees. “Come sit here.”

In the tub, Bubble from the salon, tiny and red-eyed among layers of soap-bubbles that stick to her body like scales. I hold his hand and sit beside him. Our knees touch. She looks up at us.

“Hey, Lucky.”

“Kiss?”

I lean forward, feeling the heat in my face. His cheek is smooth and warm under my lips. I notice then, he’s lost weight and his movements are too sharp, too anxious. 

“You two seem to know each other,” he points out.

“We crossed paths at Anya’s.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bubble says, her voice squeaky. 

“You too.” I move my gaze to Lucky. “She tell you about Salamander?”

“Yeah,” he offers her a reassuring smile. “I was telling her she doesn’t have to dance tonight. She can stay up here and play cards with Nikita. In fact, she doesn’t have to dance at all.

Bubble clears her hands of soap and rubs her eyes.

“What, your girls need an audience to bathe now?”

Lucas steps inside the fogged-up room and I almost stand up but Lucky puts his arm out in front of me. 

“Of course you came along,” Lucky lets out a mean laugh. 

“I’m just checking on you.”

"Right, you've always been excellent at subtleties."

"You don’t even know her. Why the fuck do you keep meddling in my business.” He starts, Gesturing toward Bubble. That’s right. Giving him a refresher.

Lucky Lou, son of Dauphinelle — queen of the nightlife. He inherited her infamy and the Hibiscus. Who’s Lucas to him in the end? Some kid he grew up with. He needs none of us.

They’re both coming up for a good fight. 

"Rest assured, I'm sober." He says to Lucas, leaning his head to the side. 

He’s too open about personal affairs around strangers. Maybe that’s why they love him. He seems cordial and genuine. His life story begs for tears and admiration. 

The few years he had with his mother, he spent at the Hibiscus, surrounded by show girls. They must’ve seemed surreal to him — prophets of silk and glittering jewelry. Moving in high heels as if they could stomp over the world itself.