Chapter 7
The club was a way to inject some excitement into our lives. Wade and I had spent our entire existence working, buried in the office. Owning the club presented a new challenge—an extra plate of food to chow down on.
The club had a fresh appearance. Just a day after buying it, I initially thought it might be yet another investment destined for failure. But within hours, the entrance was already bustling with patrons. I chose not to rename the club; there was no need for that.
We wanted people to believe Henssen was still the owner of the place. Eventually, his name would fade from memory. Old name, new face.
Wade entered the office, clipboard in hand. "Here are the old girls who remained," she said, handing it to me. I quickly scanned the list for Snow Bunny's name and smiled when I found it in the middle, along with the services she offered: private dance, liquor serving, and pole dancing.
We had to change out the bouncers. The bouncers were always affiliated with the previous owner.
As I sifted through the list, there was a coded knock on the door. I smirked, looking up to see Ethan Spruced—an old friend and partner. He liked to take on odd jobs here and there, nothing too serious, but I knew the management position would have him settling down in no time.
Despite his suit, he still looked as shabby as ever. Wade frowned at him. "Why does he have to manage?" he asked.
We all went way back. Ethan could be a bit of a snake. He wasn't born into wealth, which drove him to do whatever it took to become one of the elite. With his black hair, smooth as a freshly paved road, and a cunning smile, he had a knack for talking his way into—and out of—just about anything.
He adjusted his slightly baggy suit, and Wade muttered under his breath, though we all heard, "Did you buy that suit or borrow it?"
Ethan smirked, revealing his smaller fangs.
He indulged a bit too much. While Wade and I preferred drinking from a glass, with our stronger fangs, Ethan was more of a scavenger.
His fangs reflected his survival skills.
Considering human blood was more expensive than animal blood, Ethan was the type to rely on a few dumpster meals.
He would catch a deer or even a rat, drain them dry, and claim he was well-fed.
His tattooed arms swayed slowly in the air. "Did you have to force yourself into that shirt?" Ethan teased Wade. Stuck-up and royal, Wade had that air about her, even with a will that could kill. Cracking jokes at her expense was often futile; they just soared right over her head.
Ethan walked boldly up to Wade, lacking any trace of fear. He had seen it all. "You know I'm just messing with you," he said, adjusting something on the snug shirt she had seemingly squeezed herself into. His fingers brushed against her sharp collar.
"You know I'm the right man for the job, or any job for that matter."
I remembered when Ethan worked in corporate—he called it weak, too easy on his ego. This job was much more suited to him. He had the looks, the charisma, the strength, and the business acumen. He can cane a coward at time. When it's too big for him. He mostly take advantage of humans.
"Only to rob us blind and run off," I quipped.
With a rhetorical flourish, he waved it off. "Me, sweetie? Come on, I would never steal from you and Jager. You'd kill me," he said, fully aware of the consequences if he crossed us.
"Well, you did steal from the Petertosh's family," I remarked.
I recalled the Petertosh's—humans caught in a web of action and crime.
It felt like a movie script, pitting vampires against humans.
Ethan had been engaged to one of their daughters.
There were seven in total, and he had chosen the youngest, who was as na?ve as she was in love.
In her infatuation, she granted him access to everything, including the inner workings of their company, where the real money was hidden.
He had robbed them of millions and vanished for years, biding his time until the family lineage faded from memory.
A master criminal, he had preyed primarily on humans.
For us vampires, it was different; we had eternity to hunt him down.
He couldn't hide forever. The scent of his betrayal would ultimately lead to his downfall.
"The embarrassment. I can't believe you remember that. It feels like ages ago. It's all behind me now. I've learned my lesson."
"And what lesson is that?" Wade asked, her eyes fixed on him as he sauntered over to my desk and took a seat.
"I should have stolen from them and wiped out the entire family. Then it wouldn't have made the headlines, and you wouldn't be holding it over my head," he smirked.
"Well, I'm trusting you," I replied.
"I don't trust him," Wade protested.
"Well, Ethan knows my history, and he knows yours. He's not playing games with us anytime soon," I replied.
"I can guarantee that," he smirked. "The club life? How could I mess that up?"
"Well, I'm entrusting you with the management title," I said, handing over the clipboard. "This contains the details of all the girls. We already have leads on more talent. You'll be in charge of hiring and firing."
He scanned the list.
"There are already twenty workers on this list that come with the club," he noted.
"When you told me over the phone that you bought a club, I couldn't help but be skeptical. The Valors and Lefleurs own clubs, too. Why this one?"
"He was selling, and it's a game changer."
"I know the owner, Cloney. He's a real piece of work."
"Isn't that surprising?" Wade drawled, her back to us, clearly uninterested in our conversation.
I shouldn't trust Ethan, but he was as cunning as Cloney, who probably sold us trouble.
But we'd handle that when the time came.
If it ever came. We could be having it all over our head. Maybe he just want to get rid of it.
"He's more of a bastard than I am. A human I can't just rip off," He mulled over, wondering which humans he hadn't exploited yet.
"He should have stabbed you in the throat," Wade shot back, glaring at Ethan while gazing out at the Las Vegas skyline, where casinos and corporate buildings mingled.
"He deserves to be taken for all he's worth," Ethan replied, tossing the clipboard onto my desk. "Couldn't you have bought a different club? So many are closing downtown. Or even purchased a piece of property on the uptown strip?"
"We want trouble," I smirked.
"And I want to kill something," Wade interposed.
"Well, there's not much I can say to a man who craves chaos and trouble. You are truly a woman of mischief."
"Maybe," I replied. "Your job is straightforward. You just hire or fire."
"Hire or fire? That's something an old vampire like me can handle."
"We'll be coming in most nights, probably on a week-on, week-off schedule. We'll see how things unfold."
He nodded. "All I want is to sign the contract and officially become the owner of a club. Is it just me, or is life incredibly beautiful and easy? I don't know what the humans are complaining about."
"Because humans don't have long to live," Wade said, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she approached. "And you little suckers—"
"Hey, you can't insult your own kind like that," Ethan sniveled.
"What you did to the Petertosh family is enough of a stain on our reputation," she retorted.
"That was almost seventy-five years ago. If their daughter hadn't been so naive... Never trust anyone, right? Isn't that what the humans say?"
As Wade and Ethan engaged in their debate, I reached for the contract. Ethan seized it, his mouth still running as he tried to justify his past actions. Without a second thought, he signed it, likely overlooking the fine print—something nobody ever seems to do.
I signed my name and then handed the document to Wade.
"I'm not going into business with this backstabber," she declared.
"I didn't stab anyone in the back! People are just foolish for trusting me... well, not you two. I love you guys. We're like peas in a pod, locked and loaded."
"You're the spoiled one," Wade grumbled, snatching the pen from my hand and slamming the paper back onto the desk.
"We're going to regret this, Jager," she warned, casting a wary glance at Ethan, who was coaxing her to sign.
Wade's expression tightened, her face twitching. She looked down as Ethan smirked, gesturing at the empty line for her signature. Wade growled, "I'm not blind; I saw it."
"Well, stop dragging your feet. You know you want to work with me—the jack of all trades."
"Yeah, the jack of backstabbing," she retorted, quickly signing the document and flinging it back at me as if she were trying to erase the mistake of agreeing to it.
I could tell she felt uneasy about her decision.
I felt the same way. But we had both agreed we were tired of our monotonous lives and were looking for excitement.
We were actively seeking trouble, after all—a sketchy club run by a sketchy manager. We were inviting chaos into our lives.
I smirked as I glanced at the signatures. "Let the fun begin."