We all follow Nixie, and everyone seems to be here already. She gets up onto the stage, and I move closer to Brawley, who grabs Vero by the back of the neck.
“We have no one tonight, so your ass is grass,” Brawley growls into his neck.
I snort as Nixie taps the microphone.
“Alright, you beautiful bastards, listen up,” Nix starts. “We’ve got fresh meat coming in, and I need you all to actually use your fucking brains tonight. First, wristbands. You know your colors. Find out who is wearing yours and that’s your person for the night. No stealing or switching—I don’t care what you think, you stick to your assignment. The contracts are specific. You violate them, and you stop the entire night’s events. We don’t want that happening.
“Second, check the fucking profiles. I sent every single one of you a detailed breakdown on your assignments. Limits, safe words, triggers, medical history,everything. If you haven’t read it, you’re a fucking idiot. Read it. Know it. Live it. Third, CONSENT IS NOT OPTIONAL. It’s the only reason we’re not all in prison. The moment someone taps out, you stop. Fourth, respect your zones. If someone’s actively engaged, fucking, scene play, whatever, you stay the hell out until they’re done. Avoid and move on. Fifth, if someone is seriously injured, the game stops. Immediately. The medical team moves in. Sixth, have fun, but remember, they signed up for fear, not death. There’s a huge fucking difference.
“You’ve all done this before. You know the rules. Tonight, we’ve got some interesting participants, including one whodoesn’t scare easily. Now go get ready, and if anyone breaks protocol? You answer to me. And nobody wants that.”
She gives a similar speech every night. It covers the boss’s ass, and that way no one can say they didn’t know the rules.
Nixie jumps off the stage and walks over to me. “I will send you the information as soon as I can. Make sure these idiots don’t kill anyone tonight.”
I nod as she walks away. The night security guards will be here at 8:30 p.m. and we typically only have five staff at night. It pays to have them walking around in case something goes down, and we also have Crow or Vesper in the security room watching over the cameras.
The end of the alley has gates, which open at 9:00 p.m. The after-dark guests arrive at 8:30 p.m. to check in and collect their wristbands. They can browse the gift store or have up to three drinks. They get stamps on their wristbands, as we do not need any drunk people saying they were too intoxicated to know what they were doing.
I head over to the circus tent to find Brawley, hoping I can watch him throw Vero around a little before the guests arrive.
Kayla
Saturday nights at The Pit fucking suck; it’s overcrowded, the band is loud, and the lines to get a drink are out of control. People shout their orders at me as if I’m not already pouring for someone else. And to top my shitty night off, my ex is at the front of the line, staring me down.
“What’s Douchenugget doing here again?” Bianca asks from beside me as she pours a shot of bourbon into a glass.
“My guess is trying to make me jealous by showing off whatever whore he is screwing.”
Bianca snorts. “Is it working?”
“Fuck no, I wish he would leave me alone. We broke up almost two months ago, but he still comes in here every few days.”
“Want me to serve him or get Bruce to deal with it?”
As much as I would love to see our security guard Bruce throw him out on his ass, it would play right into his hands by causing a scene. Guys like Kyle thrive in situations like that because they seem innocent even when they are not.
“No, I will deal with him. Hopefully, he gets the picture that I am no longer interested and finally leaves me the fuck alone.”
Bianca wishes me luck, and I walk over to where Kyle is standing.
“Hey, baby. It took you long enough,” he says with a smirk.
I roll my eyes as a beautiful redhead slides in beside him. She doesn’t acknowledge me but looks up at him as if he’d hang the stars and the moon just for her. She is a lot more his type—short, pretty, and on first appearance, the doting girlfriend he wants on his arm. I’m what he used to call scrappy. He hated my tattoos and the way I dressed; yes, my tits spill out of my shirt, but sue me for having a nice rack and showing off what my mama gave me.
Kyle smiles at her and reaches into his pocket, then looks at his phone screen. “I have to take this—will you get our drinks? Kayla will sort you out.”
The woman finally looks up at me, and while I force out a smile, she scowls. She clearly knows who I am.
“You want me to order our drinks from that stalker bitch?”
I ball my fists, reminding myself that punching a patron in the face is frowned upon. Even though my boss is a badass bitch and wouldn’t care, I donotwant to get arrested tonight. Spending the weekend locked up is not my idea of fun, and frankly, I have better shit to do.
“Just get the drinks and find us a table. I will be back soon.” He leans down and gives her a kiss before answering his phone and walking away.
She turns back to me with a smug smile, though I am positive she has heard all good things about me by her body language.
“What can I get for you?” I ask, growing a little agitated that she is holding up the line.
