Shelby loved to go clubbing.
The more exclusive the club, the better.
A bodyguard at the door.
Checking a list. On a clipboard.
Or some app on a tablet, a finger to an earpiece.
That was a good sign.
Then a roped-off section with another bodyguard.
Down a flight of stairs, or up a glass elevator.
Up a mountainside, or a cavern only reachable with scuba gear.
Blindfolded and shoved in the trunk of a limousine.
And then, the greatest of all clubs.
Nobody knew its name. The city. Or the country.
Shelby searched for years, but never found it.