Chapter 10 #2
“Here. Do you want these? There’s some spare,” I say to Donnie, offering a pot of nuts, and he swipes them with his paws without a thank you, picking through the pot like a starved gorilla.
While he’s distracted—inspecting each nut before he flicks it into his mouth—I pull Joey’s fingers from his lips as he chews his nails, and turn his hand palm down, tracing a pen across his skin, leaving a small heart at the crook of his thumb.
In the mirror’s reflection, Donnie’s still distracted while Joey takes the pen from me and draws the same on my hand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says aloud with a smirk. I release his hand, savouring his warm touch as I part.
“See you, Joey.” My palms grow hot as I climb into the back of the freshly waxed black SUV with gold hubcaps and trim.
Donnie rolls away, driving me to the location, while I look out the window, noting the distance and directions.
There’s a noticeable tremor in my limbs as I spiral over the possibilities of such a meeting, but the small love heart from Joey settles me, and my smile deepens while stroking it.
My nostrils flicker at a sickly-sweet smell in the truck, pulling my glance to an empty bottle of cherry liquor resting in the door’s cup holder.
We have it at the bar, but rarely sell it, and I can only assume women have been drinking it.
Looking around again, I pull down the console between the back seats to find a small glass jar filled with diamond-shaped orange and purple …
candies? I lift the lid off, raising them to my nose to check their flavour, but they are not sweet.
Instead, they have a chemical zing, and I huff the fume of pills from my nose.
As the streets grow busier, the scarlet glimmer of vivid lights intensifies, and now I know where we’re heading: the heart of the city.
A darker side of the world—one I would not wish to visit even in the light of day.
Though our bar is closing for the night, this area is still brimming with life, and neon signs fill the street with colour, flashing hypnotically as drunken men stumble from the surrounding bars.
Like lines of ants returning to the nest, they head towards one club: The Gentlemen’s Club—the crown jewel of Krick’s empire.
There’s nothing gentlemanly about the men as I reluctantly exit the car.
They’re barely able to stand from intoxication, eagerly rubbing their palms together with sickening desire in the queue.
Donnie leads the way, but I don’t feel safe behind him as I struggle to keep up.
A pounding bass line pulses against my body before I’m inside, and when the doors open, the music’s tremendous volume hits like a wave, and that same sickly-sweet smell of liquor slams through the entrance.
Pink illuminates the space with vexing strobes, flashing in time with the beat.
With my senses abused in unison, I head further into the club.
The noise, the lights—it all feels too close, a claustrophobia I have never experienced, as it seems to thin the air on my inhales.
It’s fully carpeted, with fine leather-upholstered booths surrounding a stage.
The tables are full of men, their perving gawks fixed on the scantily clad women.
They serve drinks on raised trays, demonstrating incredible balance with grace while strutting in stilettos.
I can’t help but stare as I see so many women in one place, and wonder how they possibly move in those outrageous heels.
Some walk around in lace bralettes and shorts, while others wear silk chemises that creep up, exposing the lower curve of their butt cheeks.
One woman wears a dress, and as she bends over a table, I see more than I bargained for as a man’s grubby palm wraps onto her upper thigh with a sickening slap. She doesn’t even flinch.
Donnie turns back to check if I’m still following as he leads me to a booth at the back, raised on a platform with a view of the entire club.
After climbing the stairs, I see two topless women sitting on either side of Krick.
They don’t upset me—in this world, I’m happy just to see other women—but it’s the way they’re schmoozing on Krick.
They rub his shoulders, while the grease of his mullet catches the flashing lights.
Donnie nudges me, gesturing for me to take off my hat and jacket while ushering me forward. I urge my breathing to slow, trying to look unbothered before Krick as my forehead grows moist.
“Lee! Come. Come join me.” He shoos the women away.
I say hi to them, but they don’t acknowledge me as they continue past in their heels and lace panties, while Krick pats the grim space beside him.
I oblige, and he rests his arm behind me on the back of the booth.
And like a classic dick move in a romcom—I know what’s coming next—he lowers his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in and sending a neck-pinching shiver down my spine.
How on earth did those women sit this close to him?
“What are we going to do with you?!” he shouts above the music.
Shit. What could he possibly know?!
“How do you mean?”
“My golden girl! Riverside is a rising star. I’ve tried replicating it in my other bars, but it’s nothing like what you’ve done. I was thinking of offering you a promotion!”
Spit sprays as he shouts, and a droplet lands on my lip. I take a second to process his offer, and pretend to scratch my lip to wipe away the offense.
“Oh, wow! Thank you, Krick. A promotion to what?”
“A position has opened up here. The bar manager,” he says, pulling me in, stroking my upper arm.
I freeze. “Oh, well… Wow. I mean, this is nothing like The Riverside, Krick.”
“You’re smart, Lee.” I flinch as his voice hisses in my inner ear, his moist forearm and palm sliming against my skin.
“You could do well here. You can earn five times as much in tips alone. Then you can be as independent as you want to be in Eden. You won’t have to do things for your husband to get spending money. At least, not for the first few years…”
He laughs at himself, and Donnie is snickering, enjoying watching me squirm. My vision blurs for a second as I try to take a moment. I am relieved this isn’t an ambush on Joey and me, but nevertheless, I want it to be over as soon as possible.
“I don’t think this place is right for me, Krick. I couldn’t do the job justice.”
“Oh, Lee, Lee, Lee… I have more faith in you than that. You’re a survivor.
You change to suit your environment. That’s what I like about you.
” He casually lowers his arm down my back, and I turn my head away from him as he strokes his mitts over my ass.
My teeth clench so hard that my ears rumble, drowning out the noise of the music as I wish I were anywhere else.
“Okay. So, you’re too prudish for this club. I figured as much.” He loosens his coiling grip, his skin peeling from mine. “We’ll have to reassess your uniform policy—”
My patience runs dry. Malcolm’s voice tells me to breathe and control my mind, but my temper is unleashed. I jam my hand into his chest and push him away. “No, Krick! That’s not fair! We already agreed on that!”
Krick snaps his head towards me, his lowering brow shadowing his beady eyes.
But my trembling limbs halt when he grips my wrist, twisting it up my back, and clamps either side of my knee, pulsing his clutch tighter and tighter.
Each movement of resistance I make strengthens his hold as shooting pains radiate from my wrist and knee.
“You’re good, Lee, but you’re not that good!”