Page 12 of Prince of Wrath

“Who’s next?”

* * *

UNKNOWN NUMBER

I want to see you. Come to The Red Room.

The text lit my phone screen while I was on a call to another agent who had also been hit by Hurricane Ben.

“No, I don’t think he is going to take any more of your contracts. He’s a shark. Don’t drop blood in the water,” I said but tuned out whatever Victor was saying on the other line.

Sloane

Why?

UNKNOWN NUMBER

Have lunch with me.

Sloane

I’m not eating lunch at a strip club like a 45-year-old divorced woman.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

That’s a painful stereotype, and Gina is a great lady. She’s really putting herself out there.

Proud of her.

Victor sighed in my ear. “Where did this guy even come from?”

I tapped my fingers on my phone keyboard while I answered both him and Seere. “Vancouver originally. But the bastard got an extended work visa, it would seem.”

Sloane

Tell Gina to enjoy her lunch alone.

Seere hated men more than most women did. When he opened his lesbian strip club downtown, women had flocked to work there and later to partake in the entertainment.

Somehow, he had made it one of the most successful strip clubs in Los Angeles.

Victor continued to ramble. “But he can’t just come here and sweep our rosters. What’s the board going to think?”

“I don’t know, but we are going to log an official complaint, and by the end of the week, hopefully something will come of it. The damage is done and that’s all we can do right now.” Another notification from Seere’s incognito number popped up again. “Listen, Victor. Lunch next week and we can hash this all out. Okay?”

UNKNOWN NUMBER

I will after you meet me for a coffee.

Sloane

Why do you want to see me?

“Okay, Sloane. I know you’re feeling secure in all this, but I’ve lost three of my best players already. I’m going to have to start scouting the fucking universities again!”

UNKNOWN NUMBER

I’ll tell you in ten minutes. The coffee shop across the street from your office.