“Wait until you see the private rooms.” Zane makes a retching gesture. “If you used a blacklight in there, they’d be wall to wall fluorescent. I don’t know how anyone can stand to come here.”
“But they do,” Wilder jokes. “Over and over.”
I leave them to it, walking past the stage to where a corridor leads to the back rooms. One says manager and I knock, only having to wait a few seconds before a voice yells, “It’s unlocked.”
If the main stage room appeared dirty, this inner sanctum reveals a hoarder’s dream. Large stacks of recall boxes leave only a narrow pathway to a large desk, itself buried under a mound of paper, scattered stationery, and empty food containers. A frazzled woman sits behind it, scowling at a battered laptop.
“Are you the repair guy?”
“No, I’m the guy with a lot of money and a special request.”
She gives me a quick scan, then returns her attention to the screen. “We’re not a brothel, honey. Try two blocks down the road. Pink signage. You can’t miss it.” The advice is followed by a hand slamming onto the keyboard before she shoves the device away from her in disgust.
“My request is a scheduling change for your roster.”
The woman flicks her gaze back to me, a quick lick of her tongue across her lips showing a brief resemblance to a lizard. “More or less?”
“Less.”
She grunts and pulls a ledger towards her, something that apparently holds more use than the computer she pushed aside. “What name?”
“Ah… I don’t know her stage name. Evie Mansen.”
After checking a few different pages, she glances back to me. “Less as in none?” I nod. “That’ll cost you a grand a week.”
My derisive snort isn’t the best way to start a negotiation, but it slips out before I can catch it. “There’s no way she’s making you a grand.”
“I’m basing this on potential. Some of our best girls earn that in an hour.”
The first instinct is to call bollocks, but she could easily be right. With the money floating around this district, at least some of her clientele have deep pockets. I bet they’re not above making a girl light up by shoving a few k her way.
“How about a discount if I pay ahead for the month?”
The woman narrows her eyes, then shrugs. “Fine. Make it three and we’ll call it even.”
We sort out the details and I make the transfer from my phone. By the time I return to the bar, the first girl of the night is on the stage, one leg wrapped around the pole.
For all their earlier protestations, my friends require another prompt to leave.
“Can’t we go to yours?” Wilder asks, turning to Zane whose expensive gaming fitout is legend. “Then we can annihilate the crap out of each other while we listen to… whatever this is.”
Zane shudders and I jump into the gap. He can’t stand being at home, not since his mother died and his father started taking so many meetings overseas, he’s practically abandoned him. “You can come to mine.”
“Dude, you don’t even have the right number of headsets.”
“Which won’t be a problem since I literally just need a few minutes to talk with you about the weekend.”
“Shh.” With a finger to his lips, Wilder conspicuously glances all around him. “Nobody mention the weekend.”
I stare at him in disbelief, then shake my head. “Get in my car. We’ll talk there and then you can go wherever the fuck you like.”
“No need to get upset,” he says with a wide grin, patting me on the shoulder until I jerk away, wishing I’d ridden solo on Sunday because sometimes having friends isn’t worth the bother.
We’ve hung around together since primary school, courtesy of fathers who travelled in the same circles. Moving as a trio became as much of a habit as a friendship, though even when I don’t understand their actions or agree with their opinions, I always trust the pair will have my back.
I’ve always been one hundred percent clear that if trouble comes our way, I’ll take the rap for it. This is my vendetta. But it would be nice to avoid consequences if we can.
“What’s the problem?” Wilder asks as he slips into the back seat while Zane and I take the front. “The police never gave a shit before.”
