The Serpent Dancer
The Serpent Dancer ACT I The Onyx Club smelled like gin and saxophones and the kind of desperation that dressed up as elegance. Arthur Pemberton the Third sat in the corner booth, his back to the wall, his gin and tonic sweating through a napkin that had long ago stopped absorbing anything. He had been coming to the Onyx Club for three weeks. He told himself it was for the music. He was...
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