Badger Game Page 2

  Langston said nothing, feeling a strange sense of embarrassment at these words. Suddenly, a text came through on her phone, and when she looked at the number, she let out a small groan of annoyance.

  “What’s wrong?” said Kira in a mumble, her mouth full of soy-sauce-soaked vegetables.

  “Nothing, nothing,” said Langston. It was a text from Griffin, letting her know that Bette had just made a last-minute hair appointment tomorrow at the salon near their home. The information was good for her to use—it was a good idea to do a quick recon of sorts before going in for the attack. The only issue was that every time Griffin texted her, it left a digital trail of what they were saying to each other with their phone companies.

  She waited until after she and Kira had finished eating to respond to him, going out into the balcony to call him. “I thought we had agreed no texting,” she said as soon as he answered.

  “Yeah, I know,” he replied. “I just couldn’t call at the time and I—”

  “You don’t understand,” said Langston. “Do you want this to go smoothly or not?”

  “Of course, I do,” Griff said with a slight stammer. “I didn’t know it was that big of a deal. I won’t do it again. I just thought you’d want to try and get her attention at the salon or something.”

  “I didn’t say it was a bad idea,” said Langston. “But if you have any more information that you think I should have, send it through the app, or call me.”

  “You got it, chief,” he said.

  Langston couldn’t help but smirk. She fathomed that this man wasn’t used to having a woman telling him what to do. She hung up the phone, looking out over Central Park in front of her for a few moments before turning back to her phone and pulling up a map and typing in the address of the salon. It was right across the street from a coffee shop. Perfect, she thought. She went back to the photos of Bette, taking a careful look at them. Kira’s words from earlier rang in her head. She’s just your type. It was true. Even she couldn’t deny it. She pushed the thoughts to the back of her head, taking another look at the park before heading back inside.

  Three

  The next day, Langston was sitting in a cab, wearing a long, dark wig and heavy sunglasses. She was heading towards the coffee shop across from the salon. The appointment was supposed to be in a half an hour, and Langston wanted to be ready to catch a glimpse of her. The cab pulled up in front of the shop, and, after paying, Langston got out, looping the strap of her laptop case over her shoulder. She was ready to set up camp.

  Luckily, there was a spot right in front of the large street-facing window, and although it was a bit drafty from the people coming in and out of the door, it gave Langston a perfect view of the salon across the street. Clearly upscale, it had a white-washed brick exterior, and the interior could be likened more to an art gallery than a hair salon.

  There were people inside, but Langston couldn’t quite make them out—they all had their faces partially obscured with pieces of foil or the large bowl of the hairdryers. Langston kept her computer open, but was keeping a close eye on the front of the store. The appointment was supposed to be in five minutes, yet there was no sign of Bette.

  A half-hour passed with nothing, and Langston double checked the message that Griff had sent her. He must have gotten it wrong. She started to close down her laptop, and just then, she spotted her. She was coming out of the salon, her hair in a fresh blowout and soft curls. Langston felt a surge of adrenaline run through her as her eyes followed the beautiful woman walking down the street.

  She was the epitome of elegance and her beauty was palpable even from where Langston was sitting. She was wearing a long camel coat that was cinched at the waist, and thin leather pants that seemed to blend into her black high-heeled boots. Her lips were painted a bright red, contrasting with her pale skin and dark hair. She lifted up her hand, pointing up two fingers to hail a cab.

  Langston watched her for the entire time, keeping her eyes on her until one of the yellow cars pulled up in front of her and she hopped in. Langston felt as if she had been under a spell that had just been lifted. She left the coffee shop in a bit of a fluster of excitement. She certainly wanted to talk to that woman and she was happy that the opportunity would come tonight.

  -

  That night, even Kira could sense the change in Langston. “Wow, you look like you’re off to meet someone special,” she said as she watched her getting ready to go out. It was clear that Langston was putting a bit more effort into her appearance. She had put on a form-fitting black tux and stilettos. She was leaning over the sink, carefully adding a layer of mascara on her false eyelashes as Kira leaned against the bathroom’s doorframe, watching her.

  “I’m just doing my job,” said Langston. She cleared her throat. “I’ve got to look girly, so that’s what I’m going for.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in a tux,” said Kira. “And I must say, your butt looks spectacular. Those early mornings at the gym are really paying off.”

  Langston smirked, closing her mascara up again and putting it back in the make-up drawer. She looked completely different than she usually did. She had on heavy eye makeup, a bit of contouring and blush, and deep burgundy lipstick. “Do I look fuckable?” she asked Kira, striking a playful pose in the mirror.

  “Absolutely,” said Kira. “You look like someone who actually wants to get fucked though, not someone who wants to pretend to like you and take your money. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have a little bit of a crush on your target.”

  Langston was thankful that her face was so painted up so Kira wouldn’t notice her blushing. “The goal is to get her to notice me,” she said, walking past Kira to go out of the bathroom. “The man is paying a lot of money for me to be sexy enough to get his wife’s attention.”

  “Well, the butt will certainly do it,” said Kira.

  Langston changed the subject. “Can I borrow your coat? That long black one with the faux fur?”

  “Sure,” said Kira, following Langston to the living room. “The vintage Chanel?” She walked to the closet in the corner that was supposed to be for general storage but ended up being more space for her clothes. She pulled out the coat and shook a few of the wrinkles out.

  “It’s lovely,” said Langston. “Very uptown.” She took it from Kira and slipped it on, finally ready. She gave Kira a small hug and told her that she should be back by two in the morning.

  Ten minutes later, Langston was strolling through the lobby of her building, going to meet the car she had called. As she walked through, a familiar person caught her eye. There was a woman standing by the front windows, checking her phone. She had seen this woman a couple times before, and it took her a couple of seconds to place where she had seen her before. Suddenly, it struck her—this was Audrey. This was Kira’s beau, or at least used to be. She actually wasn’t sure where Audrey and Kira were on the relationship front. Yet, Audrey had no reason to be here in this building if it was not for Kira, and Langston started to wonder if she should go up to ask Audrey if she was waiting for her.

  At the last minute, she changed her mind, deciding to walk straight through the door. She didn’t want to try and probe into things that had nothing to do with her. She was sure that Kira would update her when she got back.

  Four

  The car she had ordered was a bit more luxurious than a cab. She got in and the driver started taking her to the Flatiron. The bar was in the hotel next to it. Langston was dropped off in front of the building and walked right into the lobby, flashing the doorman a smile as he gave a “good evening, ma’am.” She blended into scenes like this quite easily, and followed the signs to the back of the lobby where the elevators to the rooftop bar were. She had been early and there weren’t many people in line.

  It took less than a half an hour to secure her place in a lounge chair that was just adjacent from the VIP area. Langston ordered herself a weak drink that cost much more than it was worth, and
sat back, taking in the scene. The place was smaller than she had expected. It was decorated to look like a mix of an upscale izakaya and a nightclub.

  It was smaller than the photos on their website made it out to be. Four booths on the left-hand side were blocked off for VIP members, and the rest of the area was a smattering of lounge seating around an open area for dancing. Music was playing, but not too loudly, and some people had started to dance along to it. Everyone else was standing along the sides, looking at the view of the Flatiron and Madison Square Park.

  The only people here were beautiful model-types with expensive clothes, and Langston regarded all of them with curiosity. Even though the clothes she was wearing cost as much as half a year of her rent, she still didn’t feel that she was one of those people. She had always felt a sense of detachment to the socialites of the night scene and she knew that she always would. She took a few sips of her drink and continued to scan the room. She almost didn’t notice when a group of well-dressed women sauntered walked across and settled into the VIP area that was closest to her. When Langston turned her head towards them, she saw that the woman at the center of the group of ladies was Bette Simon.

  Langston was taken off guard. There were three women around her, all of them cackling with laughter. They all seemed very ready for a party, but Bette looked to be a bit reserved, sitting among them with a smile on her face as she listened on to their conversation. She was dressed in a knee length dress that wrapped around her body like a glove. It had a plunging neckline, that showed off her chest, and Langston couldn’t help but ogle at her, her heart racing like a school boy. It was time to begin her performance.

  The art of getting someone to notice you was something that Langston had been working on for years. She was a bit of a natural, but it wasn’t as easy as it was in the movies. Langston had to make sure that she was exuding sexuality while looking completely uninterested in her surroundings at the same time. She took off her coat and set it over the arm of her seat. She tucked her hair behind her ear and jutted out her chest, arching her back to give herself the best silhouette as she sipped on her drink.

  She stole a few glances at Bette, expertly peering at her out of the corner of her eye. The volume of the music had risen and it was clear that Bette’s friends had come to party. They had ordered a bottle of champagne and had started standing up, shimmying their hips as they danced in place. Eventually, Langston saw Bette looking up at her, watching her through her energetic friends. Langston was sure that Bette would start walking towards her at any second, but after waiting nearly an hour, nothing happened. Bette stayed put, but Langston knew that she was watching her.

  Langston started to get frustrated and a little confused. It didn’t usually take this long. She started to think that maybe Griff had gotten it wrong and that Bette wasn’t looking for anything with another woman. Perhaps she was just looking at her because she liked her suit. Another hour passed with nothing, and Langston was getting tired of sitting in a position where her breasts were sticking out. Loosening her lavender tie, Langston got up out of her seat and walked to the bar. She ordered another drink, a double this time. She had to figure out a new plan.

  When she turned around, she saw that Bette’s friends had migrated out of their private booth and to the dance floor. There was a fresh bottle of champagne at their table. Bette was standing at the edge of the booth, watching her friends, but not nearly as inebriated as they were.

  This was her chance. Langston turned on her alluring persona again and made her way back across the now-crowded dance floor. Bette noticed her walking towards her and gave her a coy smile as if she knew what Langston’s intentions were.

  “Hi,” Langston said with a smile, standing next to her. “You guys have quite the party going on over here.”

  Bette’s eyes travelled up and down her body, a look of interest sparking over her face as she raised an eyebrow. “We are,” she said, still smiling as she carefully pushed a coil of her dark hair behind her ear. “Well, they are, anyway. I always just come to watch.”

  Langston turned to the women that Bette came in with, who had accosted a younger man and had gotten him to dance with them. They were all laughing hysterically at the moves they were pulling on the dance floor.

  “Don’t you like to dance?” asked Langston.

  “Not with men who aren’t my husband,” said Bette, a hint of slyness in her voice.

  Langston nodded to this response, taking a long sip of her drink. Already mentioning the husband, huh? she thought. Strange. Langston started thinking of something else to say, but was at a loss for words. Thankfully, Bette kept talking.

  “The poor guy,” she said, looking out at her friends who had started to gyrate against the man’s crotch.

  “He looks like he’s having a good time,” said Langston. She kept her eyes on Bette and then changed the subject before her window of opportunity was taken away. “My feet are dying in these heels.”

  Bette took the bait. “Come sit,” she said. “Let’s watch the show from a comfortable spot. My name is Bette, by the way.”

  “Langston,” Langston replied.

  Bette led her into the private booth, and they sat next to each other on the long couch. Langston was supposed to be watching the antics in front of her, but she found it unable to keep her eyes off Bette. She truly was a gorgeous woman—the embodiment of long lost New York City glamour. Langston’s eyes trailed over Bette’s body, lingering on the curve of her crossed legs, her soft cleavage, and her lush lips. Her body was reacting physically to the sight of such a beautiful woman in front of her. She felt her breath catching in her throat and her heartbeat rising.

  “They found another one,” said Bette with a small laugh. Another man had joined the dancing group. One of her friends gave her a wave and Bette waved back with a laugh.

  Langston took another sip of her drink, feeling a strange flutter of butterflies running through her. She was getting distracted. She had to focus, but there was something about Bette that made her mind spin. They continued to speak for a few moments with Langston prodding as much as she could into Bette’s life. She asked her what she did and what neighborhood she lived in, and how long she had been living in the city—all things that she already knew, but she wanted to get confirmation. She carefully avoided discussing anything about her husband. She had to find a way to discover how she felt about other women, and, most importantly, how she felt about her.

  But before she was able to bring the conversation to a different tone, her friends came back into the booth, with the two men in tow. It looked like the opening scene of a sitcom: two blonde women that were well into their thirties stringing along two men wearing Wall Street-type suits but looked like they were barely old enough to drink. Both of their faces were flushed with the amount of alcohol they had consumed.

  “We brought some friends,” said one of the women, the one balancing herself on black stilettos. Her voice was in a bit of a sing-song and Langston found it a little grating. The other woman wasn’t any better, wearing wedge heels, and giggling nonsensically as she clutched a glass of champagne in her hand. Everyone sat down in the seats around Langston and Bette, and the stiletto-wearer seemed to finally realize that there was another woman in their booth.

  “I brought a friend too,” said Bette, smiling. “This is Langston.”

  “Oh, how typical,” said the other woman, spitting out a laugh. “We bring men and Bette brings back a woman! We’ve seen this one before.”

  The two women fell into a stream of laughter, and the men laughed along awkwardly. Langston raised her eyebrows at this interesting remark, turning to Bette to see her response. Bette set her drink on the table in front of her, and leaned back on the seat. “Don’t mind them,” she said. “They always like to embarrass me.”

  “They didn't say anything embarrassing,” Langston said, her voice lowering into a whisper. Bette looked at her through her lashes and Langston felt something stirring in her again
. She couldn’t help it anymore. She was going to take her shot.

  “Is your husband fine with you bringing back women from the bar?” she asked.

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Bette replied, leaning forward to pick up her drink again. “And it doesn’t happen often enough to warrant any sort of discussion with him anyway.”

  Gotcha, Langston thought. She was nearly there. “Lucky women,” she said.

  That got Bette’s attention and she gave Langston a long stare as she took a sip from her drink. Langston recognized that look. It was a look of understanding, one that meant that she wanted a taste of whatever was being served.

  “I’ve got to use the restroom,” Langston said slowly, keeping her eyes on hers. “Do you know where it is?”

  “I do,” Bette said, seeming to get where she was going. “I can walk you there if you want.”

  “I would like that,” said Langston.

  The two other women were paying scant attention to them, focusing on the men and their drinks instead. They didn’t notice when Bette and Langston got up and stepped out of the booth and walked across the room towards the exit. Bette led the way, and Langston felt herself focusing even more on the beautiful woman’s voluptuous figure. They got to a bathroom sign, but Bette passed it, much to Langston’s confusion. Instead, she kept going through the doors of the main entrance of the bar and towards the hotel elevators.

  They went into the elevators and Langston continued to allow Bette to take the lead, and she tapped the button to go back to the lobby. Langston staid nothing, and Bette asked, “It’s kind of hot in here, isn’t it?” Langston only nodded, her heart beating so hard in her chest she felt that she could hear it in her ears.