by Nicole York
The bus pulled up five minutes later with squealing brakes. The driver, the same plump middle aged white man with a goatee, opened the doors, and she slid her monthly transit card into the slot before taking her seat a few rows back by a window. She made herself comfortable and rested her bag between her feet so she could lean over and rummage through it to find her book.
Naturally, it had ended up at the very bottom of the bag trapped beneath her water bottle, change of clothes, wallet, work lunch, and the heels she’d put on once she reached the salon. For now, she wore comfortable sneakers.
Keesha leaned back in her seat with her book and lost herself between the pages. She’d meant what she told Robert. There was peace and quiet on this bus even though she was surrounded by strangers in conversation who either spoke too loud or listened to their music in their headphones too loud. It didn’t matter. She could tune even the most obnoxious of it all out.
That was probably a trick she’d learned stripping.
It felt like only a couple minutes had gone by when the bus lurched to a stop five shops down from her salon. Keesha slung her work bag over her shoulder and hurried off the bus after thanking the driver. It was warm but not too warm out—the perfect temperature in Keesha’s mind. The sun was shining, but on a spring day like this, it didn’t carry much warmth. She strode down the sidewalk to the shop, pulled her keys out of the side pocket of her bag, and stuck them in the lock.
As the receptionist at Bloom, it was Keesha’s job to arrive before the hairdressers and get the shop ready for business. She liked to give herself a full hour to get everything done. After she stepped into the shop, she turned off the alarm, locked up behind her, and moved into the back room to drop off her stuff. She left her street clothes on while she went about her initial daily tasks. She threw the white towels, which were already clean and used for wrapping up client’s hair after they had a wash in the sink, into the dryer to fluff them up and make them all fresh again. She did a quick sweep and mop and wiped down all the leather cutting chairs. She used glass cleaner on all the mirrors at every stylist’s station and then moved to the front of house where the front desk was so she could open the float and the computer systems.
It always gave her a bit of trouble. The software was outdated and slow. After twenty minutes, the shop was ready to take business. She organized her station, which was already pretty organized, sanitized the desk, and moved out from behind the counter to straighten products on shelves. She put out a bowl of candies for people to help themselves to and made one last pass through the salon to make sure everything was in order.
It was.
So she lit a fresh-linen-scented candle and went into the back room to change out of her street clothes into more appropriate attire for her position, a black leather skirt, a long-sleeved lace blouse with a tank top underneath because of how sheer it was, and a pair of four-inch black pumps which felt like flats compared to her stripper shoes. She fluffed up her hair and slapped on some lip gloss, and at quarter to ten, she turned on the coffee machine so there would be fresh coffee when the early-morning stylists arrived for their shift.
The first to come through the door was Keesha’s favorite coworker at Bloom, Lilah.
The girl was dressed like a New York City success story. Her long pin-straight black hair made Keesha jealous, and the way she rocked her perfectly tailored black pantsuit screamed class and good taste. Her heels were black and white strappy little numbers and she wore giant sparkly hoops in her ears. Lilah pulled off her sunglasses, which were nearly the same size as her entire face, and smiled as Keesha handed her a cup of coffee just how Lilah liked it, with one cream and two Splendas.
“Thanks, love,” Lilah purred, wrapping both hands around the mug and showing off her long, glossy red nails. She pursed her full lips to the edge of the mug and took a grateful sip. “I needed that. I’ve had a morning. Let me tell you.”
Lilah said “let me tell you” as frequently as most people said “you know.” It was her catch phrase and it was hardly ever followed up with her actually telling you something.
Lilah leaned back against the counter as the towels in the dryer beside her finished the last five minutes of their cycle. “How was your date last night with that new guy you met online? What was his name again?”
“Patrick,” Lilah said. “It was good. To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting to like him all that much. He’s super cute and all, but I don’t know. He doesn’t have that quality I look for in men.”
Keesha snickered. “You mean the height, broad shoulders, blond hair, and blue eyes?”
“And the sharp jaw.” Lilah winked.
Keesha giggled. The dryer buzzed and she pulled the door open. The towels nearly swallowed her whole as she pulled them out and set them on the counter to begin folding. “You were having terrible luck with those kinds of men. It was time to throw in something new. Do you think you’ll see him again?”
Lilah didn’t answer.
Keesha looked over her shoulder at the only real work friend she’d ever made and arched an eyebrow. “Is that a no?”
Lilah flushed and took a sip of coffee to get out of answering the question.
Keesha’s eyes narrowed. “What are you not telling me?”
“I may or may not have woken up in his bed this morning.”
“You did not!”
“Don’t judge!” Lilah laughed lightly. The sound was soft, melodic, and feminine. “He’s so charming, Keesha. And let me tell you, he knew what he was doing in the bedroom.”
“I’m sure his mind was blown he even got you in the bedroom in the first place and he didn’t want to blow it.”
“It’s kind of fun being with a guy who knows you’re out of his league. He was very… chivalrous. And doting. And this morning, he woke me up with a cup of coffee and a bowl of fruit because he knew I had to leave early to get ready for work. How sweet is that?”
Keesha felt a pang of jealousy right in her gut and dismissed it as soon as it came. “Very sweet. He sounds like a catch.”
“I’m seeing him again tomorrow.”
“Good,” Keesha said firmly. “You deserve a guy who knows how special you are and how lucky he is to be in the same room as you.”
Lilah put a hand on Keesha’s shoulder. “I wish I could just put you in my pocket and carry you around with me everywhere. You’re such an uplifting friend. Let me take you to drinks tonight to thank you for talking me into seeing him.”
Keesha’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t tonight. I’m sorry. I work my other job.”
Keesha hadn’t told Lilah or anyone at the salon that she worked at Kadia, the most renowned night club in New York City. And she certainly hadn’t told any of them that she made ten times as much money on a Friday night at Kadia than she did during an eight-hour shift here. She’d had bad experiences with coworkers finding out she took her clothes off for money.
It was worse when the boss was a man, which he was at Bloom. Ricky didn’t spend much time in the salon, but when he did, he was more than flirty with the girls, and he had a little something special in his eye for Keesha. He claimed to have a thing for redheads and he reminded her of the especially sleazy clientele she used to deal with at her old strip joint in New Orleans.
No, she hadn’t told a soul where her real income came from.
Lilah pouted and let her hand fall from Keesha’s shoulder. “That’s all right, love. You let me know when you have a spare minute and can get that cute brother of yours to watch Beth and we’ll make a night of it. Okay?”
Lilah left Keesha to finish the towels and went to get things ready at her station. By the time Keesha had finished with the towels and put them away on the shelves behind the washing station, the other girls had started to arrive, and when the clock struck ten, she opened the doors and turned on the neon OPEN sign.
Keesha settled behind her desk to finish her cup of coffee and braced herself for the day ahead.
She’d
much rather be at Kadia right now. But then again, things were a little strained there, ever since Marcus…
She shook her head and mumbled under her breath. “Asshole.”
3
Marcus
Friday nights at Kadia smelled like sweat, vodka, and pussy.
Marcus breathed in the smell of his club as he moved through the crowd to get to the main bar, where Dean, his bartender/secret fighting weapon, was shaking two martini shakers vigorously. A pair of blonde-haired women leaned on the bar, their breasts resting heavily on the black glossy surface and fingers twirling their hair as they batted glue-on lashes at Dean.
He was a looker. That was for sure. And a dangerous one, even though he didn’t look it. Dean wasn’t that tall, but he was broad shouldered and rippled with purposeful muscle he’d earned in an underground fighting ring before Marcus hired him. He was a good addition to the team. Reliable and trustworthy, too, which were the qualities most important to Marcus at a time like this.
There was a snake in the grass waiting to strike and Marcus needed people around him who would have his back when shit hit the fan.
Dean was one of those guys.
The bartender grinned when he saw Marcus coming and poured the icy martinis into chilled glasses. He slid them across the bar to the women, who dropped bills into his tip jar.
“Thank you, ladies.” Dean tipped his chin to them and they left in a chorus of giggles. He turned to Marcus as he popped the lids off the shakers and pressed them down on the shaker rinser. High-pressured water hummed as it blasted the inside of the metal and cleaned it but Marcus could hardly hear it over the roar of the music. “Evening, boss. Your guests are already here. Up on the third floor. The back room. I sent Ashley up there to serve them exclusively. No funny business. No other girls. Until business is over, of course.”
“Good man,” Marcus said. “Carrington is there, too?”
Dean shook his head. “He’s the only one missing. But the others are waiting for you.”
Marcus nodded his thanks before turning from the bar and making for the first set of stairs up to the second level. It was packed with partygoers who’d stopped on the stairs to chat, make out, and climb each other like poles. Servers maneuvered between the bodies with trays of drinks hoisted over their heads and didn’t complain.
Marcus took the first staircase two at a time. For the most part, people cleared out of his way, but if people were too busy kissing each other or shoving their hands down someone’s pants, they didn’t see him coming. He didn’t care. Their oblivion meant his financial gain, and his financial gain meant Castaletta’s financial gain. It was a wheel that must and would keep turning.
Besides, this was how things were at Kadia. Every crevice, corner, nook and cranny was good enough for indulging in promiscuity. Couples—or groups—of all genders and pairings came here to partake in the main lure of the club, Zandra.
The drug that blurred the lines of reality and made the user crave one thing and one thing only—sex.
The farther up to the third floor Marcus got, the needier the clientele became. He slid between the backs of couples practically undressing each other and closed hands on the backs of the men, reminding them that there were private rooms for the taking if they were willing to pay the price. Their women, all wide-pupiled and breathless, always liked this idea. Privacy meant even more depravity. Marcus knew that better than most.
As he moved onto the second staircase to the third floor, he had an entourage of people following at his heels to make their way to the private rooms. Marcus would have to remind his servers and bar staff to tell people the rooms were there. Patrons were less likely to initiate it themselves, especially if they were first timers, but once it was offered and Zandra was in their system, it was a difficult offer to turn down.
One would argue it was impossible. Marcus had felt the effects of Zandra. He’d felt it coursing through his blood and wreaking unholy lust upon him. He’d seen it consume Kate, too.
God.
He remembered a time with her where she’d taken the party drug and completely submitted to it. She’d begged him to fuck her. She’d screamed for more. Oh, how she’d screamed.
He banished the thought as his cock twitched in his pants.
Now was not the time to think about such things. Tonight was all about business. There were some very important and powerful men waiting for him in one of the private rooms and he could not afford to be distracted. Not tonight.
Not when things were so unsettled.
Adam Cooper, the rival of the Castaletta family and the enemy of all of their allies, had shown up in Kadia last week in a perfectly tailored white suit and a smirk. Marcus remembered the way Cooper had sat at the bar that night.
Like he owned the fucking place, Marcus thought sourly. Smug fucker.
During the exchange, Cooper had effortlessly ruffled Marcus’s feathers by targeting Keesha, Kadia’s newest stripper and a woman from Marcus’s past. He’d regretted letting his cool slip during the exchange. Cooper played games like that all the time, and all it had taken were a couple words in Keesha’s direction, a hint at bringing her up to one of those private rooms with him, and Marcus had shown his hand like a rookie and gotten protective.
It led to Marcus backing himself into a corner and pulling the only move he had left. Right when he and Keesha were reconnecting, he told her he wanted nothing to do with her. She was a stripper, nothing more, and whatever shit was going down between them was over. She meant nothing to him.
They were all lies, of course. And they were intended only to keep her safe from Cooper and at arm’s reach from Marcus. Women like Keesha had a tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time in Marcus’s line of work. She had a little girl at home. He would not be the reason her life became complicated.
Especially over a slimy reptile like Adam fucking Cooper.
Marcus hit the third floor and straightened his suit jacket as he wove between stripper platforms. The dancers swung themselves around poles, sparkly fishnet stockings dazzling the men crowded around their platforms. Bills fell out of tiny G-strings and were promptly placed back on the stage by the audience. Marcus wondered if the crowd would be so well behaved if he wasn’t around.
He moved past the standing tables and down a wide corridor. At the end, the hall wrapped to the left and circled over the club. That was where Marcus’s office was. It overlooked the dance floor and all three levels so he could see what was going on if he was holed up in there seeing to business matters in private.
But that was not his destination tonight.
He stopped at the door of the last private room before the turn in the hallway, set his hand on the handle, and gave it a sharp twist. The door swung open and light poured out into the hall. Marcus stepped in and promptly closed the door again, not wanting to draw any attention from any guests or dancers alike.
This was important business. Kadia provided a safe, accessible location for the men he was meeting who came from out of state. The club provided cover and anonymity. The men could arrive and weave through the crowds, order drinks, and make their way upstairs without anyone giving their presence much thought.
Nobody was any the wiser that there were four dangerous men above their heads in this room.
“Gentlemen.” Marcus looked around the room at the men who’d been waiting for him. There were four sofas, all facing each other around a glass minimalist-style coffee table. There were a couple whiskey glasses with ice on the table. Against the back wall was a liquor cart, and one of the men, Cole, the blond-haired blue-eyed ex-cop turned bodyguard at Kadia, was pouring himself a drink. He glanced over his shoulder when he saw Marcus coming and lifted an empty glass. Marcus nodded at his man and Cole filled the glass up. Dean had mentioned Ashley would be serving everyone, but Marcus suspected Cole had sent her out.
There would be private matters discussed here tonight that a server at Kadia had no business knowing.
The other two men in the room all sat upon the black leather sofas in their best suits. Erik Bertinelli sat with one knee bent and his ankle resting on his knee. His arm was draped carelessly over the back of the sofa, and he regarded Marcus with a cool stare as Marcus took a seat on the sofa across from him.
“Erik,” Marcus said smoothly. “Wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
“On such short notice, I wasn’t sure if I should bother,” Erik drawled. He was a man of presence and intimidation. He wasn’t a big dude by any means, but he was one of the only men besides Adam Cooper that Marcus would never want to run into on a bad night in a dark place. Where Erik would come up short against Marcus in sheer size and strength, he would make up for it in agility and speed. Erik was a lean, mean, fighting machine. Marcus had seen him in action more than a handful of times and had been impressed with his grit and general ruthlessness.
Cole passed behind Marcus and handed him his whiskey on the rocks before moving to sit on the far end of the same sofa as Marcus.
Marcus sipped his drink. “We have a problem.”
“I don’t like how easily you’re throwing around we,” Erik said.
The third man, sitting kitty corner to his boss Erik, was Thomas. He was newer to the circle but he and Marcus had brushed shoulders over the past year. He was blond and buff, a real frat-boy type, and he’d assumed the role of Erik’s right-hand man after Kane fell off the grid and got out of this life.
Thomas stoked his jaw. “You gonna tell us what this problem is?”
“We’re still waiting on Carrington,” Marcus said.
Erik scoffed. “Fuck Carrington. The old man isn’t reliable anymore. He’s too caught up in the new pace of his retired life. He can’t keep a schedule to save his life.”
Thomas shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t want to come back to his old stomping grounds. He has history here. Kadia was his before.”
“He lost it making shit moves,” Erik said.
It was true. Carrington’s operation had fallen apart when he borrowed money from the wrong people and was unable to pay it back. It led to the kidnapping of his daughter by Erik himself, who at the time saw fit to teach the old man a lesson. Thomas had a hand in it, too. But as time wore on and the girl spent more time with them, she and Thomas had fallen for each other.
