A small establishment, it was far from his normal swank—LA clubs with modern interiors, artsy lighting and filled with beautiful people—but it would do, especially if the woman in question could be found inside. According to Nick, this was the place to be. From what he saw around town, it was the only place to be. Which made his quest simple. One lady, one bar, that’s what he called easy pickings. Parking his rental truck, Malcolm strolled inside. Struck by the stale smoky smell, he realized the non-smoking trend had not reached this part of Tennessee. Scanning the interior for sight of the black-headed beauty, he browsed a wooden dance floor surrounded by a deep maroon carpet flecked with beige. Wooden high-top tables lined the perimeter, their surfaces sleek and pleasing to the eye. A group of young ladies crowded around one set nearest the floor. Dressed in skirts and boots, they had styled their hair to salon perfection, applied cosmetics like a work of artistry. He raised a brow.
