Chapter 4 Roman #2
Ivan sighed as he thought it over. “According to the policy you took out six months ago, you could be looking at anywhere from half a million to just over a million dollars. It would be nice padding for our coffers.”
“And it would serve him right,” said Ares. “Fuck him. I vote we burn the place to the ground.”
It’s an idea. I’ll admit, I’m tempted. I nod to Ivan and say, “Get over there and get me those financial records. Take someone with you.”
“Yes, sir.” He closes his laptop and walks out, leaving me alone with my brother.
“You are not seriously considering keeping that place standing, are you?” he asks me.
“So what if I am?” He scoffs. “What?”
“That rat bastard is more than likely in the wind by now. We need to make him an example so everyone knows that you can’t just run without consequence.”
I suppose he’s right. No… I know he’s right. I’m not sure why I’m hesitating. The best play is to make our money the best way possible, and that is to make sure that place is burned to ashes and collect on the insurance payout.
“What is the problem, Roman?” Ares asks. “This is textbook. ‘When they get away, we make them pay.’ We find their families, we burn down their properties—”
“I know all that,” I say to him. “I also know that the Kitten’s Paw was a hole-in-the-wall strip club until they managed to turn things around.
Presumably because of their new management.
If we tap into that, we could possibly make more money than we would if we just burned it down.
” He stares at me in silent defiance, his brow furrowed and one corner of his mouth turned up in disgust.
“Yeah, okay.” He scoffs and starts pacing the floor like an angry lion. He’s going to wear a hole in the expensive Persian rug under his feet.
“You really have a bug up your ass about this.”
“I just don’t like it when somebody gets one over on us. That’s all.”
I get up from my place at my desk and walk around to him, resting my hands on his shoulders to stop his pacing.
“Nobody’s getting anything over on us. I’m handling it.
All right? There’s more than one way to skin a cat.
I own the building now, remember? No matter what, Omar’s not going to make another dime off that place.
Not if we burn it down, and certainly not if we keep it going.
No matter what, we’re coming out on top. ”
Ares looks at me skeptically but finally nods in response. “All right. But if we find him—”
“You can take his head and put it on a pike outside the club,” I tell him. I’m only half joking.
A few hours later, Ivan calls me back and it’s set me in motion. I don’t know why, but I need to have my feet on the floor inside that place. I need to see it for myself.
“I don’t know how they managed it,” Ivan had said, “but the value on the club’s doubled, all right. If my estimates are right, they’ll easily hit a million dollars by the end of summer.”
I look up at the pink glow from the sign above the doorway.
They’ve been open for about an hour and the parking lot is already almost full.
I hadn’t been looking for the renovations before, but now I’m wondering how many there really were.
I’d have to have Ivan get me a list of every dollar that was spent to build this place up for the insurance.
Conversely, I could also see how much more money could be made if the place stayed open. Not to mention this could be a lucrative venture for some of our allies. All the deals that could be struck in the VIP rooms…
Ember’s little blue car is sitting in her reserved spot near the front. Either way this bounces, I feel oddly obligated to have a talk with her. Not sure what that is. Maybe I’m looking forward to seeing her reaction when she finds out I’ve been her actual boss all along.
That’s appealing. She seems tough… and smart. She sized me up in seconds that first day we ran into one another, too. Wonder what a woman like that sounds begging for me to fuck her. Wonder how she’ll look with her face buried in a pillow, her peach shaped ass in my hands…
Well. There’s that spark I’ve been looking for all along. Maybe there’s something there for me to explore.
Ares and I get out of the car and we make our way to the door. There used to be a large man sitting on a stool just outside the door, under the awning. Now that man’s been replaced by a thinner man in a business suit. The moment he sees me, his face lights up.
“Mr. Orlov,” he says. “Nice to see you again.”
I have to pause to look at him. He’s thinner… but if I picture him with a baseball hat and a dirty tank top… “Junie… right?”
“That’s right.”
“Wow. Hardly recognized you. You look good.”
He pats his nearly non-existent belly. “Had to get in shape, you know what I mean?”
I just nod and smile. “So, the manager around? I’ve got business with her.”
“Yeah, she’s in her office.” He reaches for the walkie-talkie on his belt. “Want me to let her know you’re here?”
“Please.”
He gets on his walkie-talkie and announces me. I’m half expecting her to respond that she’s not there, but she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “On my way.”
“Give her a second,” Junie says to me.
I nod in acceptance. “We’re going to get a drink at the bar.”
We walk to the bar and order a drink. As the bartender does his magic, I notice Ares’ eyes following the ass of a cocktail waitress as she passes by.
I can’t blame him for being distracted. I look around this place and I can see how it triggers a response in him…
and everyone else. Almost every table is full.
The girls are all strikingly beautiful. Silicone tits bounce past me as a dancer leads a customer by the hand to the VIP room.
The dancers on the poles are skilled performers. As the bartender slides the drinks to us, I find myself drawn to a dark-haired one in a glittery red G-string as she spins around the pole, pulls herself up, and lands in a split on the stage. She’s showered with approval in the form of dollar bills.
“This is like a fantasy land,” I hear Ares say over the thumping music. “Mind if I partake in some of the festivities while you—”
“Go ahead. Don’t get lost, though.”
He downs the shot he’s ordered and stands, eyeing a blonde with pigtails and a school girl outfit. “Sir, yes, sir.”
He walks off, and I turn my attention back to the stage. The dark-haired girl gathers her money as the next song starts and another woman saunters on stage. The DJ’s voice echoes around us. Let’s give it up for Brandyyyyy!”
“Enjoying the show, Mr. Orlov?”
I look around to see Ember standing beside me.
She looks like an angel in the darkness.
Her white hair hangs down past her shoulders with gold ringlets at the ends.
She’s wearing a pale colored blouse that reflects the flickering colored lights from the stage and a pencil skirt with a hem that stops halfway down her thighs.
One side of her mouth is turned up, giving her a mischievous look as she regards me.
“I am. Very much, in fact,” I respond. She chuckles.
“Well, you’re not here for just the sights, I take it.”
“No. Not at all.”
She nods, the polite smile still on her face despite the question in her eyes. “What can I do for you?”
I take a sip from the drink I just ordered. Mmm. Whiskey. High quality, too.
“I was hoping if you had a second, we could talk about what comes next for this place now that Omar’s gone.”
She narrows her eyes slightly, then she nods and says, “You’re the one who sent Mr. Stanislov to look at our books. I wasn’t aware that you had a stake in this business.”
“More than a stake,” I say with an eyebrow raise.
She nods slowly. “So, I guess this is you telling me that you and your organization will be taking over as owners, then?”
I can’t help but chuckle. Smart woman. Maybe a little too smart. “My ‘organization’? What do you know about my ‘organization’?”
“Only what I’ve been able to look up. Your name is popular with the authorities, Mr. Orlov. Rumor has it that you’re connected to the Russian Mob.”
“Lies,” I say as I take another drink. “Stories told to scare the children of Russian immigrants into behaving. Mere fairy tales. You don’t strike me as the kind of person who believes in fairy tales, Ms. Lorenzo.”
She sighs and crosses her arms. “Can we cut the bullshit, Mr. Orlov? I’m not in the business of cavorting with criminals.
I like to stay on the right side of the law when it comes to every aspect of my life.
That being said, if you and your Bratva buddies are coming in, I’ll be stepping out.
I don’t want any part of your activities. ”
She looks at me with her chin up and I smile.
This is clearly a bluff. It’s admirable.
A little short-sighted, but admirable. “You know, you really turned this place around,” I say.
“Mr. Stanislov tells me that by the end of the year, this club could potentially clear a million thanks to the changes that you made. You have a real head for business.”
“Thank you,” she says stiffly.
“You’re very welcome. Seems a little strange that you worked this hard to build this place up only to announce to me that you plan to walk away. Over a fairy tale, no less.”
She shifts from one foot to the other uncertainly. “I have morals, Mr. Orlov. I’m not going to compromise them for any amount of money. I might be good at this job, but at the end of the day, it’s just a job. No more, no less. I can get another.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re working here with your high morals,” I challenge. “Instead of running your own club.”
Her smile’s gone and now she’s glaring at me. “Owning a club is different from managing one.”
“I see. Well, if it’s a skillset that you’re missing, I could help you out there. That is, if I decide to keep this place open.”
She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
We stare at one another for a long few seconds, then she shakes her head slowly. “You can’t do that. This is Omar’s club.”
“It’s my club, milaya,” I tell her.
She stares, trying to figure out whether I’m lying or not. When she can’t find the lie, she sighs and shakes her head. “Fuck,” she says.
I down my drink and close the gap between us. She smells like heaven. As she turns her eyes up to me, I feel her energy change and bend toward me easily. Naturally. She might seem tough, but right now, that ice in her eyes is melting.
“Leave if you want,” I tell her. “But it’s a cold world out there. Wouldn’t you rather work under my tutelage than struggle on your own?”
I can see the wheels turning behind those tourmaline eyes. The struggle between the light she’s undoubtedly been raised in and being drawn to my darkness.
“Y–You assume a lot about me,” she stammers. She tries to break my gaze but fails. Her eyes are locked with mine.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ll give you until the end of the work day tomorrow to decide what you want to do.” I step away from her and finish my drink, throwing the bartender a hundred-dollar tip. “You’ve got my number, Ms. Lorenzo.”
I take a second to seek out Ares. He’s talking to one of the dancers, but I catch his eye. He says his goodbyes and joins me as we walk out of the club. I don’t look back, but I feel her eyes following me. One way or another, she’ll call.