Murder in the Magic City: A Micah Brantley Story

honeys, babies, cuties, and any other little pet name that a high school girl would use to describe her current crush. Some more than most. It gave the impression that the interest the dancer portrayed was genuine rather than part of the elaborate ruse it almost always was. Sometimes it was real. Strippers are still human, after all. But often the aim was more direct. After all, the women still had bills to pay.
“My good looks aren’t enough?” Micah knew corny liens rarely worked, but for them to blossom into something other than a polite chuckle, good timing was imperative.
“Only enough for a dance,” Citron replied with a devious smirk. “Anything else is extra.”
“Fair enough.” Micah shifted his body slightly in anticipation. “How about you start with the dance and we’ll take it from there?”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She turned around, a smile of victory on her face, and walked over to a stereo on the end table. She pressed play and an R&B track started up. As though time were on the verge of coming to an unavoidable standstill, Citron seductively returned to her spot in front of Micah. The mellow beat of the track reverberated throughout the padded room and came alive with each movement of her body in front of his.
Most men would succumb to their baser desires by the point that she leaned forward and removed her skirt, exposing the nearly invisible piece of fabric hiding her treasure. Not Micah. He was trying to play an angle. Give too much, and one loses all hope. However, give just enough without allowing your thoughts to be deciphered, and the prize would be his. By the time the song reached the end of the first verse, Citron was on his lap attempting to get some sort of physical confirmation from the unit downstairs that her trick was working since Micah’s face told nothing other than mild amusement.
As his body was about to rat him out, Micah leaned in for a kiss. Citron smiled and completed the exchange. It wasn’t something she did frequently with clients, but she admired the balls it took to go for it so casually. The music briefly hit a fierce beat as the song gradually switched over to the next track on the list. Citron effortlessly slid off Micah’s lap and onto her knees in front of him. She stared at him for a moment, waiting for confirmation that he wanted things to move further.
In his mind, Micah’s plan was a success. He had somehow wooed this woman into taking things further, all of her own volition. That she was simply following protocol failed to register as a potential reality in his mind. Just as he was about to let destiny take hold, a new beat jumped into the mix, throwing off the soothing song on the stereo. Alternative rock meshed with R&B for a few seconds before Micah realized what had interrupted. He grabbed his cell phone and accepted the call.
“Yo, Victor… what’s up?” Micah tried his best to sound normal, although the current situation made such a feat rather challenging.
“Micah, I’ve got some good news, but we need to discuss it in person. Get your ass over here, pronto.” There was a hint of recognition in Perez’s voice.
“I’m, uh, kind of in the middle of something right now. How soon were you thinking?”
“Let me rephrase that: Get your ass here now! This type of good fortune doesn’t normally happen so quickly, and there’s no telling when another window of opportunity like this one will open up.”
“Shit, all right. I’ll be there in five.” Micah ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket with a mixture of disgust and happiness on his face. He figured things would have worked out eventually with how well he had handled his recent job, but he thought he could have at least one night to himself before they did. Fate can be a cruel mistress. “Sorry to cut things short. How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Citron said. She may have taken him up there for work, but she had to admit she enjoyed being around the man. He had a certain air of dorky confidence that was refreshing compared to most of the people she dealt with daily. “Just come back here sometime and we’ll start back where we left off.

Chapter 5
Brantley approached the familiar steel door and pressed the red button. The same ding he had heard only hours before rang out, followed closely by the sound of a door changing from something designed to hinder progress into a means of entry. He slipped inside and approached the table. Perez looked as though he hadn’t moved from his seat. There was a single light on inside the building, shining down on the poker table while sheltering the rest of the room in the same darkness that existed on the other side of the windows.
“So, what’s going on?” Micah asked as he grabbed a chair and sat down on the opposite side of the table. He noticed a legal notepad in front of Perez with quite a lot of numbers and letters scribbled almost nonsensically across it. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it appeared his counterpart had been more productive of late.
“I spoke with Jimmy,” Perez said. The casual way the words rolled off his tongue, with no sort of accompanying facial expression, told Micah nothing of significance. It was almost as if he simply called him back to gossip about a dating prospect. Except the person in question was a high-ranking member of a local cartel.
“And?”
“He wants to meet with you.” Perez let the words sink in, enjoying the chance to toy with Micah. “You’re not in, but you’re not out either. I think you may have to prove yourself to him.”
“I just introduced a guy’s neck to a knife last night. What the hell else do I have to do