Chapter 24
KC
After my first few shifts as a bartender, I quickly learned that The Purple Room is only one piece of the pie.
Carter’s building has three levels, each one boasting a different club.
The Purple Room is the main bar area with a simple dance floor.
The Lavender Room is upstairs, where guests are served by nude waitresses, and men or women can pay for personal dances.
Some of the women stand like naked statues their entire shift, while others dance on poles around the room.
The Violet Room is in the basement—it’s Carter’s kink club.
Nobody can enter without paying a membership fee and signing an NDA.
I’ve only been in The Violet Room to supervise or help behind the bar.
My main job is bartending on the main floor, however, over the years, Brittney and I have definitely indulged on the kink club floor.
Carter warned me from the beginning to keep my head down and not ask any questions that I didn’t really want the answers to.
Over the years, I’ve picked up on things, like how he has connections in the Mafia—to one of the main founding families in this area, the DiPatri family.
Some nights, there are shady people that have meetings in a private room upstairs.
Even knowing all of that, I still enjoy my job, and feel safe with Carter’s protection.
Mathew is one of the sons in the King family.
I’m pretty sure that his family works behind the scenes for a local Mafia family—Giordano.
Mattie is six foot four, sports a blond buzz cut, and has the build of someone who spends a lot of time in the gym.
You won’t ever catch him wearing anything other than an expensive suit.
He also happens to be my fuck buddy. This man treats me well and knows how I like it in bed, and also knows that I don’t want a relationship.
I’ve tried dating men over the years, but it never sat right with me, and I ended up just self-sabotaging .
I’ve witnessed Mattie show up to The Purple Room, covered in somebody else’s blood, and then rush down to the basement with Carter by his side. Hell, he could even be a hitman for all I know. I continue to keep my head down and do the work I’m paid to do. Mattie and I don’t really do pillow talk.
The chime of the front door goes off, letting me know a customer has just walked in.
“KC!!!” Ahh, I would recognize that voice anywhere.
A devious grin takes over my face—it’s Shelah, a local ER nurse in her late forties.
She works at the hospital that’s about a block away.
She’s got a big voice for such a small lady; she’s only four foot eleven.
She’s a beautiful Asian woman, with a round face sprinkled with freckles, long dark brown hair, and deep brown eyes.
She’s also got a bold personality, which is probably my most favorite thing about her.
“There’s my favorite nurse! How are ya?!” I yell back at her, while taking her in. Shelah’s wearing a set of black scrubs, with a smiley face sticker stuck above her right breast. Before she can respond, I point toward the sticker. “Why the hell do you have a sticker stuck to your chest?”
She laughs and goes to cover it up with her hand. “Oh… Well, I forgot to wear a tank underneath my scrub top this morning, and corporate wouldn’t be happy to know I’m out drinking with the hospital’s name on my shirt.”
Sheesh, that’s crazy…
“Yikes, has it been one of those shifts?” I point to the high-top barstool closest to me. “Have a seat while I fix you an espresso martini.”
The Purple Room is decently empty on this Thursday evening. It’ll pick up later since it’s Ladies’ Night, and drinks are half-off for them. Shelah flings her body onto the barstool.
“It sure as shit was. My feet are killing me, and I wish people would quit shoving shit up their asses!” I almost dropped the martini glass at that. Quickly, I regain my composure and finish making her drink, placing it on the shiny bartop.
“Hold up, you’re going to have to tell me more…” leaning my body onto the bartop in front of her, she now has my full attention, “about these particular assholes!” I rest my face in my hands, propped up on my elbows, and my eyes connect with hers.
Shelah takes a long sip from her martini, and then sets the glass back down, softly, twisting it between her fingers.
“Well, today, one gentleman came into the ER with a mini soda can stuck up his rectum… When I did my triage assessment, I, of course, had to ask him how it happened. He told me he was ‘drinking it in the shower then he slipped,’ causing the soda can to accidentally be shoved into his asshole.”
“Stop it!” I shake my head back and forth in disbelief. “Did staff actually believe that?!”
“No way. The doctor even told him to just be honest, and that we don’t judge—we treat. That patient stuck with his story all the way to the surgery cot.”
“Why couldn’t the ER doctor just pull out the can?” I’m a hundred percent invested in this conversation now.
“Get this! The tab from the can got stuck. The doctor didn’t want to risk more damage to his sphincter, so off to surgery that guy went.”
I continue to listen, closing my eyes to hold back a laugh. Shelah takes another sip of her drink and then continues, “Girl, that isn’t even half of it today; it’s a full moon tonight!”
“Alright, lay it on me, sweet cheeks. Another one!” Oh, how I love her ER stories; they can always put me in a giddy mood. People wouldn’t believe half of the shit emergency room nurses see.
The door chime sounds again. I don’t want to miss another patient story, so I quickly poke my head around her and see that the other bartender is helping the new customer.
“Okay, okay, just imagine… A PVC pipe and a gerbil…” Uhm, there’s no smile on her face. She’s kidding… right? Nope, still no smile.
“Wait, what?! I thought those stories were myths! Who in the hell would do that?!”
“KC, some people are into real kinky shit. They shove the PVC pipe into their rectum, then push the gerbil into it. The gerbil dies trying to claw its way out.”
I think I’m going to be sick. “You have got to be kidding…” Stomach acid builds up my throat.
“Unfortunately for the gerbil, I’m not. Told you, today has been a day. Can I have another, please?” She gives her empty martini glass a shake.
Alrighty, then. This one will need to be stronger than the first. Barf, I don’t think I could keep a straight face dealing with that kind of situation…
“Shelah, I’m a little scared to ask for another story at this point. I have a shift to finish, and the last one almost made me throw up.” Her head tilts back; a belly laugh comes out of her, and it makes me smile.
“Uh-huh… And do you think you’ll go back to nursing school, pretty lady?”
Her hand brushes against mine when I place the fresh, much stronger, espresso martini down. I give her a sad smile. “Never.”
Instead of talking about any more sexual rectum fiascos, our conversation flows about her newest grandchild.
He was born last week, and her other children plan to visit from out of state this weekend.
I fill her in on Brittney—about her boyfriend, and how she’s almost finished with law school.
Shelah’s been one of my regulars since the beginning.
I’m very fond of her and have come to look forward to our chats.
After her second drink is finished, this time much slower, she rolls off of her stool and walks over to the side of the bar.
I meet her, and she brings me in for a tight hug.
I hug her back just as tight. She’s my momma bear in Chicago.
As the night continues, the busier the bar becomes.
I look up from the mixed drink I’m stirring and see the small dance floor in the corner has several ladies dancing to “All The Single Ladies” by Beyonce.
The other bartender, Taylor, and I run the alcohol and keep the women happy with their half-priced drinks.