by Monica James
“Oh, speaking of…come with me.” Before I have a chance to get a word in edgewise, Lotus is walking in the direction of her office.
That’s a hint to follow, and it’s also an excuse to get the fuck away from Tiger, who looks seconds away from ripping off my balls. I don’t know what I did to piss her off, but the look suits her. I knew she could hold her own, but holy fuck, she’s a spitfire. Another reason I need to stay away.
I don’t back down from a challenge, and if Tiger isn’t careful, sooner or later, I will take the bait. And if that happens, I will break her—piece by piece.
I quickly follow Lotus, pushing past Tiger without a word. She doesn’t budge when our bodies touch, which just inflames this hunger within.
Lotus waits for me in her office as I enter, and she gestures for me to close the door. I do.
“The other day, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d have you doing my books,” she says, going straight in for the kill. “I have enough on my plate, and you’d be doing me a huge favor. I’ll pay you, of course, for all the extra stuff you’re doing around here.”
I rock back on my heels, mulling over her proposal. “You barely know me.” I’m not doing myself any favors, but I need to know why she’d trust me with her books after such a short amount of time.
“I know enough,” she counters, opening her desk drawer and lighting a cigarette. “So whatcha say?”
I have no idea why she’s putting her faith in me, but I eventually nod. “Okay.”
She grins, blowing a ring of smoke. “Great. I don’t suppose you’d want to start now?”
Arching a brow, I wonder why she’s in such a rush. Alarm bells sound, but for some reason, I don’t see Lotus as a threat. “Just tell me what you need.”
She pushes back from her desk, the wheels of her chair whining across the floor. “I want it all,” she replies, sealing this partnership with four simple words.
I’ve been stuck at this desk for hours, checking over everything twice. Lotus left me alone because the reason Tiger was in today is because the club is closed for a private event—Lotus’s fortieth birthday.
She’s invited everyone and anyone, which is another reason she wanted to call me before I came in. She wanted to give me the heads-up that I wouldn’t be working tonight per se. But it seems that even though I’m not needed as a bouncer, Lotus has put me to work doing her books. And after looking over them, I can see why she needs another set of eyes to tell her what she knows to be true.
Things weren’t adding up because she didn’t want them to. But there is no sugarcoating the truth—Lotus is broke.
The money she makes barely covers her bills. The girls pay her a lousy house fee to dance there, and she doesn’t bother with an offstage fee. The girls can pretty much do what they want. She also pays them an hourly rate, which is unheard of in this industry, unless you’re a porn star or well-known dancer.
To make a profit, she will have to cut back on everything.
The music blares in the club along with the lively voices of the patrons. There is way too much pep for my liking, hence the reason Lotus wanted to call me. People, socializing, and pop music are so not my scene. I’m glad to be hidden away from the festivities and plan on leaving soon.
I’m hunched over the desk, writing everything down when the door opens and in sways Lotus with a bottle of vodka hanging from her fingers. After two attempts, she finally gets the door closed. Leaning back in my seat, I wait for her to speak.
She hiccups before slumping into the chair in front of me. “How bad is it?”
Sighing, I toss the pen onto the desk and shrug. “It’s bad, but I have a feeling you already knew that.”
She touches her nose, pointing her finger my way. “You got me.”
“If you knew how bad things were, why would you bother asking me to look over your books?” I’m curious about her motives.
She takes a long sip of vodka, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. When the bottle is empty, she rolls it across the floor. “Because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, and when I saw how good you were with figures, I thought you’d be able to see something I didn’t. But it seems I wasn’t missing anything at all. I’m broke, right?”
“Yes,” I reply without pause. If she wanted me to soften the blow, she chose the wrong man.
A small laugh leaves her, but it’s filled with sadness. “Oh, Bull, what am I going to do?” She places her face in her hands.
If I had a heart, this would be the moment when I say some bullshit line to make her feel better. But I merely stare into thin air.
“I can’t sell this place. No one would buy it. It’s barely standing. You’ve seen the condition it’s in. How can I compete with Blue Bloods? They’ve got a ping pong show, for Christ’s sake!” She sits upright, shaking her head in defeat.
“What’s so special about Blue Bloods?” I ask, making a mental note to scope the place out.
“For starters, the place isn’t falling apart. However, Carlos has so many girls working for him, they will do anything, and I mean anything, for tips. The competition is tough. They gaslight as a gentlemen’s club, but it’s no secret if you wanted your dick sucked or wanted to rough one of the girls up, the management would happily turn a blind eye.”
I grip the arms of the chair beneath me. Sounds like a place where Jaws would thrive. “Why the fuck would anyone want to work there?”
“Because they’re too afraid to leave,” Lotus explains. “This business is filled with sick, dangerous perverts, in case you haven’t noticed. But I wanted my club to be different. I wanted my girls to be empowered while working here, not enslaved to the sexist bullshit we have to endure because we have a pussy and tits.”
Amen.
“But I don’t think I have a choice. If I don’t come up with—” She looks at me, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.
Peering down at the scribbled notes beside me, I say, “Twenty-one thousand three hundred and seventy-two dollars and six cents.”
She sighs. “If I don’t come up with twenty-one thousand three hundred and seventy-two dollars and six cents, then I can kiss my dreams goodbye. Not to mention, my girls will be unemployed. That asshole Carlos is circling this place like a shark. He can smell blood, or more specifically, he can smell Tigerlily.”
My spine stiffens like a rod. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lotus tilts her head slightly, clearly stunned by my sudden need to punch something. I can’t help it. Everything about this fuckstick Carlos leaves me itching for a fight.
“He wants Lily to work for him and has for a while now. He’s promised to pay her a ridiculously high fee for dancing there, and he won’t touch her tips. He won’t charge her a house fee or an offstage fee. And doesn’t expect her to tip-out. She’ll have her own dressing room. Anything to sweeten the deal. Essentially, he’s offering to pay her a shitload of money to work there.
“She won’t go because she’s loyal. But if I’m forced to sell or close this place down, she won’t have a choice. Finding work in this town that pays enough to survive is close to impossible.”
“You could change your liquor supplier. Increase the house fee. Stop paying the girls an hourly rate and just let them survive off their tips, which is what most strip clubs do. Take a profit from their tips,” I offer, flicking through the notepad. “I’ve written out a list of things you could do to help lessen the debt.”
“I can’t do that to my girls. Besides, if I do all that, will I be able to keep this place afloat?”
With the money that’s currently coming in and what’s going out to expenses, it may help pay back some of what she owes, but in regard to profit, she won’t be seeing that anytime soon.
“Thought so,” Lotus says, reading my expression. “I either sell or—”
“Or?” I question, my interest piqued.
She pops her lips, as if weighing how much she should share. “Or I could use the place for so
mething other than stripping.”
“Like?” I coax, not liking the sound of this.
“A customer who I’ve come to know well is looking for a place to run his…business out of. He needs it to be discreet because well—” Her pause gives her away, but I don’t adlib. I merely wait for her to spit it out.
“Because…it’s an underground fighting ring.”
Well, fuck me, I was not expecting her to say that. Underground fighting may introduce me to some shady characters. Perfect.
“He wouldn’t need to use the club often. He said maybe twice a month because he moves around to remain undetected. But the money he’s offered to pay me, Bull, it would dig me out of debt in a few months. I said no. It’s too risky. But now, I might not have a choice.
“Tonight was a trial,” she reveals, tonguing her upper lip. “I wanted to see what would happen if I closed the club for a ‘private event.’ I decided to test drive it and see what happened when we turned patrons away. It went better than expected. They all wanted to know what was so important inside. You know what happens when you tell someone not to touch something?”
I lean back in my seat. “They want to touch it,” I reply, realizing she hasn’t made this decision on a whim. Lotus has thought this through.
“Exactly,” she says animatedly. “I could offer the club to him, closing it a couple of times a month. The mystery would excite the customers. Maybe it’ll breathe new life into the place. I don’t know. I need to do something.”
I understand her rationale, but this isn’t Hollywood. A local fight club here in Detroit is asking for trouble. She said it’s underground, and the fact her friend moves from place to place is smart on their behalf, but if they get caught here in Lotus’s club, it’s her ass on the line.
She’ll get shut down.
“I don’t need to tell you this is a fucking stupid idea,” I say bluntly. “But if you’re doing this, I can’t be here. My PO will have my balls, and I’ll go back to prison.”
Lotus frowns, as if just remembering the reality that I’m neutered to the state. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
But I wave her off. “It’s fine. I just need you to know that I’m out.” And I will be. But that doesn’t mean I can’t observe from afar.
“Nothing is set in stone, but if I go ahead, I will let you know,” she says quickly. “I don’t want you getting into trouble.”
I nod in gratitude but am pissed off it’s come to this. The corporate, greedy shitheads of America strike again. The rich are getting richer, and the poor are getting poorer. Where’s the justice in that?
“Go out there and have a drink for me. I only turn forty once,” she says, attempting to lighten the mood.
Standing, I don’t see the point in dragging this out, so I decide to leave. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”
Lotus quickly leaps from her chair and opens the desk drawer. She pushes aside some papers and retrieves a black phone. “Here, take it.”
I eye it, shaking my head.
Before I have a chance to refuse again, she grips my hand and places it into my palm. “I insist.”
This place is on the brink of foreclosure, and this woman is giving me a phone. Her kindness confuses me because it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced anything like it.
Suddenly leery of this “warm” feeling in the pit of my stomach, I nod and shove the phone into my pocket. “Thanks.”
I don’t wait around for any other sentimental crap as I head to the door and open it. But then I stop in my tracks when Lotus says, “Carlos is out there. You can’t miss him.”
Her comment has me casually asking, “You don’t know if some dude by the name of Jaws has come in here, do you?”
She seems to ponder the question, before replying, “Doesn’t ring any bells.”
Not wanting to rouse any suspicion, I nod. Just because she doesn’t know him doesn’t mean he doesn’t come here. I have to stick it out. It’s the best chance I have.
When I walk out into the hallway, I push past the masses loitering in the corridor, desperate to get the fuck out of here before I suffocate. The club is filled to the brim as partygoers use the stage as their dance floor. The strobe lights flash in time with the dance music blaring over the speakers, making it hard to see.
Just as I’m about to push past a couple making out in front of me because they’re blocking my exit, something from the corner of the room catches my eye. Every part of my body is telling me to ignore it, but I can’t because that something is Tiger and some slimeball who is way too close to her.
They’re sitting in a booth, which is harmless enough, but when he leans in even closer to whisper into her ear, I have the urge to rip out his tongue. I watch with interest as she pulls back, mouth parted, stunned.
Her beau grins a shit-eating smile, while I clench my fists. The urge to hit something overcomes me.
Tiger suddenly bursts into laughter, reaching for her drink, but the straw misses her mouth. After three attempts, she finally maneuvers it. Taking a closer look at her clumsy demeanor, there is no doubt that she’s drunk, drunk with some asshole who looks like the date rape king.
Eyeing his posse, he has two men flanking his front while another man stands behind the booth. They are definitely packing heat under their jackets. When the date rapist places his arm across the back of the leather, lounging like he’s royalty, I take a stab that this is Carlos.
Lotus did say I can’t miss him. Besides the fact he looks like an utter tool in his unbuttoned white shirt, revealing his gold chains and black nest on his chest, and the band of merry men surrounding him, how he is basically drooling all over Tiger confirms my thoughts.
He’s looking at her like she’s his next meal, and what Lotus said about him being a shark seems to sum this asshole up perfectly. He’s not interested in her merely working for him. He’s interested in her period, which just put him on my shit list.
I don’t know why this bothers me, but it does. And before I know what I’m doing, I’m strolling toward the duo with my eyes on the prize. Tiger is too busy slurping down her drink to notice my arrival, but Carlos’s monkeys instantly jump to attention.
One of them stops me from advancing any farther when he slaps his palm against my chest. With zero fucks given, I peer down at his fingers then back up at him. It seems a look can convey a thousand words as he slowly removes himself from my personal space.
Carlos is aware of my presence, but like any predator, he watches and learns.
“You got any business being here?” one trained lap dog asks me.
In response, I smile. However, it’s anything but welcoming. “I should be the one asking you that. You’re not welcome here. Get out.”
The moron looks at his lackey, clearly confused by my bluntness. So I decide to clarify any misunderstanding. “You can walk out the door on your own accord,” I calmly explain, leveling them both with a look as I point over my shoulder toward the exit, “or I can break both your legs.”
A mixture of emotion passes between them, but at the forefront is anger that I would speak to them this way. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” says the bald dude who is five seconds away from losing a finger if he touches me again.
“Can you keep a secret?” I reply lightly, giving them a false sense of security. I soon shatter their refuge as I’m so done talking. Cupping my mouth, I lean in close and drop my voice an octave. “I’m Batman.”
They are taken aback by my response, but their egos won’t allow me to have the last word, especially when I’m making a fool of them and their pathetic attempts to intimidate me. They both reach into their jackets for their guns but are stopped swiftly when Carlos puts his hands on their shoulders.
He stands above them as the booth is on a higher level and locks his eyes with mine.
It’s instant mutual hatred as Carlos sizes me up. My hackles stand on end, daring him to stop hiding behind his men like a little bitch and fight me. But me
n like Carlos don’t get their hands dirty. They have enough money and power to bribe others to do the dirty work for them.
He coaxes the men to the side, allowing him to come face to face with me. His astute brown eyes examine me closely, looking for a weakness he can exploit. But he’s looking in the wrong direction.
“What’s going on?” Tiger says with a slur. When she stands to see what the commotion is, our gazes lock, and her mouth parts. “Oh, it’s you.”
I want to reprimand her for the company she keeps, but I don’t show any emotion. It will end badly for us both if I do.
“Come on, I’m taking you home,” I state, as this isn’t up for discussion.
She’s giving me seasickness from the way she sways on her feet, hinting she is way drunker than I thought. Carlos watches our exchange with interest because he still has no idea who I am.
When Tiger continues staring at me as though she’s witnessing the second coming of Christ, I attempt to reach for her arm, but she recoils, knocking her off balance. She stabilizes herself by gripping the top of the booth.
“I said I’m taking you home,” I repeat dangerously slow.
“And I say fuck you,” she counters quickly, folding her arms across her chest in defiance.
I blink once because I’m caught off guard by her sassiness.
Carlos’s lips twitch.
Strike one, motherfucker.
“If this is your pickup line, may I suggest you try a different tactic.”
Both my face and Tiger’s screw up at his suggestion. “The only thing he knows how to pick up is cooties off Tawny. And whoever else is throwing themselves at him,” Tiger spits with fire, before giggling hysterically. “I said cooties.”
What in the ever-living fuck? Tawny? Cooties? I am so fucking confused.
“All right, that’s enough.” She is clearly intoxicated and needs to get away from fuckers like Carlos.
I march forward, ready to take her kicking and screaming if I must, but when one of the men attempts to grab me, I swiftly elbow him in the nose. It squishes under impact, and he lets out a howl. In my defense, I did warn him.
