15 Cutter #3
“Mostly storage for the theater, though there’s nothing above the main house. They blew out the rooms above because they needed the height for the stage and DJ booth.”
“Fascinating. I’ve only been in one other mansion that was converted to a nightclub, but it wasn’t on this scale.”
“Well, Daryl got this one for a steal because it had been abandoned for years.”
“Must’ve been an expensive renovation,” he muses.
I nod. “It was, but it gave him the chance to put it back together the way he wanted.”
“So it’s almost like a rebuild?”
“In a way.”
I glance at Simpson, who looks bored with the conversation. Blair follows my eyes and chuckles. “Don’t mind him. He’s used to my obsession with property. I’m kind of a renovator myself.”
“You would get along great with Daryl then,” I assure him. “He can talk your ear off about getting this place ready to open.”
And he can. When he first fished me out of the trash back in the early days of my recovery, he would spend hours telling me every detail of the process of bringing his dream to life.
I guess he was hoping his enthusiasm would rub off on me.
Not for this place, but for whatever dream I might still have kicking around inside me.
Trouble is, I don’t have a dream anymore.
At least, not at this time. Once it was baseball.
That was my world. Then Amber came along and I started seeing a different future.
One where she was the star. Suddenly baseball wasn’t the sole focus of my life.
I wanted everything life could be with her in it, and I didn’t care what form that took.
If it was with baseball, great, but if not, it wasn’t the end of the world.
When I finally realized that, it was a major shift in my thinking.
It was one of the many reasons I felt so betrayed by what she did to me.
I had been willing to give up my dream for her and she just threw it away.
I tried over those lost years to see things from her point of view.
Was I inattentive? Too focused on my career?
I don’t think so. I always made time for her, going out of my way to make sure she was happy, satisfied, and appreciated.
And I asked her about it all the time to make sure we were on the same page.
I thought we were a team. There was never any indication from her that she was unhappy with me or our relationship.
It literally pulled the rug out from under me.
But that’s ancient history now.
“Anything else you want to know before I give you the grand tour?” I ask them.
“So this is a strip club?” Simpson asks.
“Technically speaking, yes. We have the main house, where the dancers perform, and the theater, where we show movies and put on live performances on the weekend. Do you have a problem with the nudity?”
He grins. “Who doesn’t like to look at naked girls?”
I smile to myself. “It’s an all-male club.”
“What do you mean?”
“The strippers are all male, as are most of the staff. Is that going to be a problem?” I really hope not, because it took too long to get these guys in here.
Who knows how long it would be before they found someone else.
“I thought your boss would have told you. I was very explicit when I talked to him.”
Simpson rolls his eyes. “I just came off another job across the country. Bart might’ve told me and I forgot.”
“Or you weren’t listening,” Blair quips, then looks at me. “I don’t have a problem with it.”
Simpson snorts. “Of course you don’t. You’re gay.”
“Bi,” Blair corrects, then gives me a cheeky grin. “I order from both sides of the menu.”
I would say he doesn’t look the part, but how would I know?
Half the dancers here look like they could bench press a small horse.
I thought I was in pretty good shape from my years of sports training and later cage fighting until I started working here.
Yeah, there’s twinks like Daniel and models like Ace, but there’s also guys like Dominic and Maverick who are both amateur MMA fighters in their spare time.
They could probably give these guys a run for their money.
“What can you tell me about the threat?” Simpson asks.
Good, let’s get down to the reason they’re here. “Have you ever heard of Frank Scarponi?”
“As in the Italian mafia?”
Well that confirms what I already suspected. “The same. A couple of months ago Daryl approached him about becoming an investor in a similar club he wants to open in Boston.”
Simpson glances at Blair. “Does that mean this is a mob club?”
“No, no,” I assure him quickly. “Daryl is very careful with who he does business. He’s got legitimate backers lined up, he just needed Scarponi’s contacts in the city.
” I won’t go into the fact that not all of Daryl’s partners are legitimate because I have questions of my own about some of them.
Questions I’ve voiced to Daryl on numerous occasions.
I know he’s not dumb, but I also know there’s a history of coloring outside the lines in his family.
There’s a lot of grey to be found in his morality.
Simpson shakes his head. “Getting in bed with the mob is never a good idea.”
Daryl and I have had this conversation ad nauseum, but they don’t need to know that.
“There’s a lot that goes into running a club like this.
What we do here is not exactly standard among strip clubs, and getting a license to do business can be a tricky process.
That’s where the contacts come into play.
Daryl figured since Scarponi has businesses in Boston he would know how to grease the wheels. ”
“What do you do here that’s so unusual?” Blair asks.
“Everything short of actual sex is allowed on stage. That’s why it’s a member’s only club.”
Blair’s brows shoot up. “No shit?”
I nod. “No shit. I’ll be honest, it was a wake up call the first time I witnessed a set. But you get used to it.”
Liar.
“Anyway, Daryl set up a meeting with Scarponi to talk details and it ended badly. Daryl walked away from the deal but we don’t think that’s the end of it.”
“If you pissed off a mafia boss, it certainly isn’t the end of it,” Simpson agrees.
“Last week he sent one of his men here to talk.”
Simpson snorts. “I can imagine what kind of talking he wanted to do.”
“Exactly,” I reply. “That’s when I suggested we get some additional security in here.”
Simpson thumbs his chin. “Look, I can appreciate this is a potentially dangerous situation, and I’m down for that. I’ve been in some gnarly shit myself. That being said, I don’t want to become target practice for the mafia. They’ve got no integrity.” He looks at Blair. “I won’t speak for you.”
“No, I agree,” Blair says. “I’m here to provide security, but if things start to hint at turning into a turf war, I’m out. That’s why I left the army.”
I didn’t peg him as ex-military; maybe it’s the hair and tattoos.
“I understand completely. Believe me, I feel the same way. Daryl’s a friend, but I didn’t sign up to die for him.
And if it came down to it, I would like to think he’d walk away from the whole business before he risked his or anyone else’s life.
But so far nothing has happened to warrant that level of panic. This is just us being cautious.”
I really hope they don’t walk out. I’d like to get this resolved because it’s just one more thing wearing on me. Devers had to have seen how much security we have when he was here. I don’t want Scarponi getting the idea this place is ripe for the taking.
“I’d understand if you want to walk away,” I say.
The two men exchange glances. “We’re still good,” Simpson finally says.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Great. Well, pick out a desk then let’s go get the lay of the land.”
At least one thing is going right this week.