Lead filled me.
The agreement was done.
“That means I can come to you.”
Chapter Eleven
Blake
The guy doing my interview gave me an incredulous look when he met me at the front door of Octavia, right before introducing himself as Spence. It was another nightclub in the area. I needed money and fast, and working in a bar or club was what experience I had. I knew Creighton would pay for anything and everything if I let him, but I had my pride. I would stand on my two feet.
Tips would be good. Plus, I was good at food and beverage work.
We were toward the end of the interview when the guy pushed back his chair, turning away from his computer, and he stared hard at me.
He didn’t speak for a moment.
I frowned, shifting a little in my chair. “What?”
He was young, maybe a few years older than me, but there was an older aura of maturity that surrounded him. If my life were different, he would’ve been someone I’d be interested in. He was cute too. A lean athletic body. Maybe he wasn’t dressed in what someone might have worn as a club manager, in jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers. I glanced down at his feet again and amended that they were nice sneakers. The kind that people waited in line for outside the store when they first released. He had a similar face to Creighton’s too. A younger looking face. Pretty. But he had brown shaggy hair, and it looked as if heran his hand through it on the regular, a frustrated motion that was habitual. He wasn’t quite clean shaven. Some facial hair remained, like he’d forgotten to shave and he was currently running his hand over it before he expelled a sigh, his hand falling back to his lap. “Are you shitting me?”
My eyebrows went up. “Uh. No?”
Because, no. But the way he said it, I almost questioned myself.
I sat forward. “I need a job. I’m used to this industry. You can see my work history.”
His eyes fell on my résumé, but he didn’t pick it up. “Why here?” He fixed me with intense scrutiny.
I was confused.
He leaned forward abruptly. “We looked you up. I know who you are. I have to imagine that you know who we are.”
Another flat stare.
Hewastalking about who I thought. “I know who owns this club.”
He leaned back in his chair, his hands pushed into the front pocket of his hoodie. “And again, we know who you are. Creighton Lane has his own establishments. Why aren’t you employed at one of them?”
I deflated. He really did know who I was. Okay then. I wasn’t going to bullshit with him. “This club is owned by Cole Mauricio. He’s from another Mafia family, and this club is considered neutral territory. I’m not one of Creighton’s soldiers, and I don’t want anything to do with the fight going on between him and the other two families in this city. I’m a college student. I want a job, and I want to make some money. That’s it.”
An unnatural stillness came over him before he shifted in his seat. “We have an understanding with the West and Walden families. They’re allowed to be in here, as long as they’re here as patronsonly. No violence. They’re not allowed to operate here. This club is owned and run by Cole Mauricio. Only Cole Mauricio. Lane has not reached out for the same agreement, but I’ve got a feeling that if I hire you, he’ll be on the phone within the hour. He’s not allowed to enter until he has anagreement with my employer. I’m sure he’ll be aware of that condition. He’s a smart prick.”
My own mouth twitched.
I liked the no-nonsense attitude from this guy. I also liked that there wasn’t one iota of nervousness about Creighton. That was the best part.
He was eyeing my résumé again. Still wary. “If I hire you, there’s no fucking way I’m putting you on the floor. You’re applying to be a server or a shot girl.” His gaze lifted to me. “You’ll bartend, and you will keep your ass behind the bar, you got me?”
Was he . . .
“What are you saying?”
“Lane will not be allowed to recruit here. Patron only. Anything else, he’s out. We do not give one fuck how scary he can be.”
I frowned. “Wait. Are you saying—”
He heaved a deep breath and held out his hand. “You’re hired if you’re okay with a bartending job?”
