Chapter 23

It didn’t take me long at all to find Tristen Trintar. I made my way to his apartment on Bradberry Lane next to the marina, knocked on his front door, and learned from his Mexican housekeeper named Nella, after providing her with sixty dollars, that Trintar visited The Rapture. I thanked the maid for her time, winked at her, and left her to her cleaning.

Trintar ended up being exactly where I expected him to be at The Rapture, on the third floor, under two male hustlers who had spiked white hair. Tourists believed The Rapture was a new wave church with nondenominational attendees. Locals knew the place occupied a three-floor whorehouse for queers. Bondage occurred in the basement. Baths were on the first floor. Muscleheads hustled on the second floor. And the third floor reeked of drugs and very young men, some of which were probably not eighteen, not that I could verify it.