A Night at the Opera

Cedric had arrived at Tom Cat’s a half an hour before the appointed time. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Isa directions--after all, he knew the elf was a frequent visitor of this particular nightclub. Its front was brilliantly angular and modern, a large sign proclaiming TOM CAT’S beneath the silhouette of a black cat edge in white light. He stepped through the door without a glance to the bouncers, who nodded to him as he passed.

As soon as he stepped inside, he was blasted with music. Fortunately, he’d removed his sensitive cat hearing before coming in, as he could feel the beat reverberating through his chest. Multicolored lights flashed over a dance floor and pool. In contrast to the coziness of the Catfe, the entire decor was brilliantly modern, and instead of cats, there were queers. Dancers of all genders and expressions stood on illuminated pedestals and atop the main stage. There wasn’t a drag queen show this particular night.

Although he wanted to watch the show that was being put on, he had business to attend to.

The bartender working was a familiar face, someone they’d had working there for almost a year now. A fledgeling vampire, too, that Cedric had picked up when the poor clueless youngling had tried to feast on him. He was more than happy to work weekends at the club in exchange for blood. Of course, he had no knowledge of the club’s true purpose as a blackmail mill. Only Cedric and the manager Tom knew of that.

He gave Ced a friendly grin and wave as the doppel approached the counter. “Tom’s in back,” he called over the music.

Replying with a nod and a thumbs up, Ced slipped around the counter, put his long coat up on a peg, and continued through the doors to the back. Beneath the coat, he was wearing a crisp, modern-cut black suit and a tie that matched his hair. The music, although quieter, was still loud enough that eavesdropping was nearly impossible.

Ced went all the way down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and turned to the first door on his left. It was open, so he stuck his head in. “Got anything good for me, Tom?”

A man with brilliantly dyed hair looked up from a display of four screens. “Cedric! Great to see you.” He hopped up, beckoning to Ced, who entered and shut the door. They shook hands, and then Tom lead the way back to the screens. Ced leaned against the desk while Tom took the chair.

The screens were showing many different cameras throughout the facility--some of them security, and some of them on plants. Tom went to the one unused screen and brought up a file folder of even more photos.

“So we’ve got another MP in here,” he began, gesturing with a pen. “Old sleaze. Targeting some of our younger boys.”

“Can we pin him for pedophelia?”

Tom grimaced. “Maybe. But ephebophilia, definitely. Still, I’m thinking of having Jake talk to him soon.”

Ced nodded. “I’m sure we’ve got someone who can seem young enough for him.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Tom wasn’t allowed the specifics of Ced’s prostitute business. He believed in keeping the different arms separate, which was why Jake was the only connection to his more illegal dealings that he allowed near such a fine, upstanding establishment as Tom Cat’s. “Either way, we’ve got enough for some pretty cohesive slander here.”

“Good, good. Any news on that real estate mogul?”

“Oh, yeah! That’s nice and juicy for you. He contacted Jake on his own, and Jake said to tell you that he’s got some very nice photos for you.”

“Wonderful!” Grinning, Ced sighed happily. “I do so love the medium of photography. Makes things infinitely easier.”

“I’ve no idea how you’d manage a business like this without it.” Tom chuckled. “Now. We’ve got some more boring things I’d hoped you could look over, too.”

Thirty minutes later, Ced gave the order for the valet to pull Evelyn around the front and left Tom to his multitude of cameras and other, more legitimate, business work.

Honestly, he didn’t understand the social stigma behind many of the things that he collected information and photos of. But so long as the public thought a certain way, it would be useful for blackmail. All that was important was the culture of the time. After all, he could remember a year when it was social suicide for women to show naked ankles.

Thank goodness that’s changed, he thought to himself as he stepped back into the nightclub and the music slapped him in the chest. It was rather stifling during the summer to be wearing a full dress, after all.

He glanced around and found Isa seated at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Taking his coat and slinging it over one shoulder, he walked over and leaned on the counter, still behind the bar.

“You ready?” he asked Isa. “The valet’s brought Evelyn out front.”