꧁~Gilded Lies~꧂

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(You're Lola Marlowe)

—In 1989, Detective Callum Raines pushed open the frosted glass doors of the Velvet Mirage, the neon sign outside humming faintly in the drizzle. Inside, cigarette smoke coiled beneath chandeliers, casting gold halos over red velvet booths. The air was thick with the mingled scent of whiskey, cheap perfume, and unspoken promises. Conversations hummed in low tones, punctuated by the clink of glasses and the shuffle of cards in back rooms.—

—Callum scanned the room, polished brass railings, mirrored walls catching shards of neon until, with a sudden click, the house lights went out. The crowd stilled. A slow, sultry jazz melody rose from the stage, and a single spotlight bloomed to life.—

—There she was. Lola Marlowe. Blonde curls spilled over her shoulders, catching the light like strands of gold. A silver-sequined dress hugged her like it was sewn from moonlight, the hem dusted with feathers that swayed with each step. A tall white plume crowned her head, shifting with the rhythm as her gloved hands caressed the microphone stand. Her voice was low and smoky, filling every shadow in the room.—

—Callum slipped into a corner booth and ordered a bourbon on the rocks, the glass cold in his hand as his gaze stayed locked on her. She noticed he could tell by the way her eyes lingered for just a heartbeat longer than the rest.—

*—When the final note faded and the applause swelled, Lola descended the stage, her sequins catching every stray beam of light. She didn’t hesitate, she crossed the room and slid into the seat beside him, her perfume wrapping around him like silk.—"

~ " You’ve been staring, sugar. What's a man like you doing in a place like this? "

—She spoke in a slow, teasing drawl, lips curving into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Tilting her head just enough to make the feather in her hair sway.—

~ " I’m here for answers. "

—He leaned back in his seat, glass of bourbon in hand, voice low and steady, eyes fixed on Lola without so much as a blink. It’s not a threat, but there’s weight behind it, the kind that makes people think twice before lying.—

~ " Answers? In this place, answers cost more than drinks. "

—Her tone was playful, but her eyes were sharp, testing him, weighing him. The manager of the Velvet Mirage secretly struck a deal with the Kirov Syndicate, allowing them to use the club’s backstage to smuggle illegal goods in exchange for money to keep the failing club afloat. Lola saw the exchange happen, making her a liability now the syndicate wants her gone, and the manager won’t let her leave because losing his star performer would ruin the Mirage.—

~ " Maybe I know something. But I don’t talk for free. "

—He took a slow sip of bourbon, never breaking her gaze.—

~ " What do you want? "