Chapter 2
2
A n hour and a half later, we rolled down Avenida Revolucion until we stopped in front of the Golden Tropics Gentlemen’s Club. The worst building at the end of the busy street. The neon sign was mostly burnt out leaving Gold Top Men’s Club. Might almost be a better name.
Blood and I exchanged a look as we dropped our kickstands. The two-story building looked like a good breeze would knock it over. Half the shingles were missing in the front and the ones intact were riddled with holes. Either bullet holes or they had an active termite infestation. I wondered what other infestations they had, but better my mind didn’t go there yet since this was my new home.
Blood moved the homeless guy sprawled out in front of the door and we entered. Not surprisingly, the inside was worse than the outside. The musty damp air of an air-conditioner that only works half the time and the stale stink of spilled booze, piss, and sweat. I’d been in some shitty places in my thirty-five years but this ranked number one. Even surpassing my cell at MCC.
“Fuck, this place looks worse than it did when we were here a few months ago.” Blood adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder .
“Jameson said to see the manager. A guy named Ricky Morales. He has the keys to the rooms upstairs.”
Blood grunted. “I’m starting to think my cell in county last year is gonna look like an upgrade.”
I led the way past strippers who looked more like hookers. Most of them with the glazed eyes and bad skin associated with regular meth users. I might’ve fucked up with the club business, but I never employed anybody who was on the junk. Too unreliable, too much of a liability. And yeah, I smoked weed and did some lines, but I never let it get ahead of me. I’d seen way too many guys go down that path over the years and it never ended well.
“Hey, baby, how about you and me have a party.” A painfully skinny brunette latched onto me, but I kept walking and she kept hanging on. “C’mon, I love to fuck, suck, or do whatever you want.”
“Ain’t interested, babe.” I gently pushed her off but the stink of cigarettes and body odor lingered. First on the to-do list—get rid of the crackheads and tweakers.
I stopped at the end of the bar and flagged over the bartender. “Where can I find Ricky Morales?”
The girl gave me a big grin as she poured shots. “He’s in the office in the back. Second door on the left.” Then she pulled down the neck of her tank top. “C’mon back later and you can do some body shots.” She jiggled her tits and giggled again.
Fuckin’ hated women who giggle.
I jerked my chin and we made it to the back of the room without any more interruptions. The narrow, dim hallway contained a ladies’ room, men’s room, and the only other door on the left.
I rapped my knuckles against the scarred wood, then entered. Hard to say if it was Ricky’s office since all I got was an eyeful of a female ass and thick thighs riding a guy behind a desk who I assumed was Ricky.
“Hey, fucker!” Blood yelled. “You got company.”
The bimbo turned her head in our direction, but kept riding his dick. “Shit,” she screeched. “Just wait a fuckin’ minute, he’s almost there.”
A few more pumps and two loud groans later the chick threw her leg over the chair, righted her G-string, and faced us tits out teetering on five-inch stilettos.
She popped her hip and cupped her tits. “If you guys want a piece of this you’re gonna have to wait till my next set is over.” She strolled past us then threw over her shoulder, “And if it’s gonna be both of you, it ain’t gonna be cheap.”
Blood broke up laughing as he shoulder-butted me. “We’ve had more cunt thrown at us in the last five minutes than a whole week at home.”
“Jameson said to stay away from the bitches, but I think he sent me to the wrong place.” I pulled myself together and focused on the guy fixing his pants behind the desk. “You Ricky Morales?”
“Yeah.” He stood and zipped up. “Sorry about that, she can get a little carried away.”
Ricky looked to be maybe twenty-five, slim built with dark brown hair and tanned skin. He moved forward and stuck out his hand. I hesitated for a second thinking where his hand might’ve just been.
“You make a habit out of fuckin’ the help?”
His brow furrowed like my question threw him.
“She don’t mind.” Ricky winked. “None of the girls do.”
“I hope you strapped up cause some of these bitches look like they might leave something behind.”
Ricky laughed like he didn’t understand what I meant, then asked, “So, you’re the new owners? ”
“Looks that way.”
“You are going to love owning this place.” Ricky waggled his eyebrows.
“Yeah, well, that remains to be seen. Along with a lot of other things, but first things first—Jameson said you got keys for the rooms upstairs.”
“Yes, se?or. And I had one of the girls go up and clean the rooms so they’re all ready for you. Very modest, probably not what you’re used to in the States.”
“Don’t matter,” Blood said. “We just wanna sack out.”
It’d been a long, shitty day and at going on eleven o’clock my ass was whipped.
Ricky rummaged around in the desk drawer and finally came up with some old school keys on a metal ring. Then we trudged behind him up a steep set of creaky wooden stairs.
“I like working here,” Ricky said when they reached the top of the stairs. “Having a job is very important to me and my family.”
“Not a problem, but like I said downstairs, there’s some things that gotta change.” I eyed the narrow hallway in front of me and wondered what awaited us on the other side of the door.
“The old owner, he tried to change some things too, but certain people didn’t like his ideas.”
Blood leaned in. “Certain people?”
Ricky shot a look over his shoulder. “The cartel. They’re all over, and more and more they’re getting into the nightclub and strip club business.” Ricky spread his arms wide. “Most of the places on this street pay to the cartel for protection. They tried to take this place over too, but the owner resisted—then he disappeared.”
For the tenth time in fifteen minutes I exchanged a look with Blood .
“Thanks for the heads-up, but I don’t think we’re gonna have to worry.”
Ricky gave them each a once-over. “You both look tough for sure, but it’s very hard to beat Rico Sandoval.”
Interesting. The same name Jameson threw out earlier.
Ricky unlocked the door, and flung it open, then handed me the keys.
“Thanks.” I pocketed the keys. “Show up in the morning and we’ll go over what we have planned for this place.”
Ricky nodded eagerly and left the small barren room consisting of two single beds, a rickety bureau, and a wooden chair with spokes missing. On the upside it appeared clean—or clean enough.
“So, what exactly do we have planned?” Blood had his usual wiseguy smirk in place.
“No fuckin’ clue.”
“I say, we hire a guy with a wrecking ball and just level the dump.”
“I know you’re being a ballbuster but it’s not the worst idea.” I dropped my duffel on one of the beds, then hunched down to look under it. Satisfied I threw back the bedspread and sheets. Old, but clean.
“What the fuck are you lookin’ for?”
“Bugs, tarantulas, snakes. Anything that ain’t human.”
“Geez, fuck, why did you have to mention tarantulas?” Blood shivered. “I hate spiders.”
“You’re afraid of spiders?” I grinned at my six-foot-three, two-hundred-thirty pound VP. “Nice to know something scares you.”
Blood flung his duffel on the other bed, then crouched down peering under the bed. When he straightened up I was still grinning at him.
“Fuck you for putting that image in my head. ”
I laughed out loud. “Yeah, I can see this living arrangement is gonna work out great.”
“The first fuckin’ thing we’re doin’ is adding on another room up here so your OCD don’t rub off on me.”
“I think it’s a little too late for that, brother.”
Blood unzipped his duffel and pulled out some clothes. “Can’t fuckin’ believe we’re in the ass-end of Mexico in a beat to shit strip joint.”
I might as well get what I had to say out of the way now. “And it’s all my fault, I get it.”
“Nah, not really what I was thinking. I was your VP and yeah the last few months you were a little preoccupied with the Princess of La Jolla, but I could’ve and obviously should’ve done a deeper dive on that fuckin’ prospect.”
“Princess of La Jolla, that’s a good one.”
“That’s what we used to call her at the clubhouse. We could never understand how a roughed-up bastard like you landed that rich bitch.”
I threw back my shoulders and pointed to my dick. “Had to be my beauty and my big dick.” I smirked around my words, cause although many women were addicted to my dick, I was no beauty. My nose had been broken too many times in the cage, and I had a scar along my jawline thanks to a bar fight in my teens. Yet, Blood was right; women liked my roughed-up, edgy look. For Tamara, the La Jolla bitch, I was nothing more than a walk on the wild side, but I didn’t care cause she loved to fuck.
Blood turned to face me. “It pisses me the fuck off Crank got over on us, and believe me if I ever see his ass again, he’s gonna know why they call me Blood.”
“Yeah, I’ve had fantasies about smoking his ass too, but if I hadn’t been thinking with my dick it never would’ve happened.”
“Just want you to know, I don’t hold it against you, and I take half the blame.” Blood held out his fist and we tapped knuckles. “ Now, no more bullshit. I’m dead tired and we got a lot of work ahead of us.”
I made a show out of unpacking my duffel cause Blood’s words meant more than I was able to express. I’d learned at an early age to keep my feelings hidden, but sometimes they surfaced at the weirdest fuckin’ times.