Our choices define who we are, and the choices I’ve made in the past, especially since I’ve started working with Strokes, force me to stay true to who I am. There’s no backing down from this; I’m in for the long haul.
“Let’s grab a drink, I’m buying,” I tell her, and then step out of the office. She follows after me quietly, knowing not to argue. I got a lot on my mind, with all the logistics of our operation and funneling money out of the club so that we can stick to our plans.
I can’t believe at one point I actually thought that this was going to be easier than it is, but at least the payoff is good enough for me to keep investing both my time and money into this whole scheme.
“Whisky, straight up,” I tell Mike, the shirtless bartender, and he sets a full glass down in front of me in fifteen seconds. Keep up the good work and you might see a raise, Mike.
“Orange juice, natural,” Strokes asks, and Mike doesn’t even argue with her. She’s’ quirky like that; she loves her ice cream and her orange juice, and she’s not ashamed to order them when every single woman around her is getting loaded with martinis and tequilas.
Even though she’s heading my operation, dealing with the day-to-day nasty reality of business, sometimes she seems just like a little girl fresh out of college and without any real world experience. But anyone who believes first appearances is a fool; there’s much more about her than what meets the eye.
“Really, you and your orange juice. Can’t you just drink a whisky like a regular fucking human being? It’s 11 PM, for God’s sake.”
“Health comes first,” she teases me with a smile, but then she’s back to her usual somber self. “So what’s the plan, Austin? I have to know. I need to be ready in case something happens.”
“I’m working out an escape plan with security. If shit hits the fan, they have a few SUVs parked just right around the corner, and they have orders to get the girls out of here before anyone can lay eyes on them. At first sign of trouble, they’ll get them out.”
“Yeah, but to where?”
“I’m working that out, just trust me. I’m looking at renting a few apartments spread across the city so that we move the girls there if we need to do it. It’ll be a few more days to iron out some kinks in all of this, but the basics are covered. If we have trouble, at least security will get them out of here; the rest we can always figure out later.”
Oh right.
You’re wondering who I’m talking about?
What girls I’m talking about?
Don’t worry about it, doll.
Just trust me, okay? I promise you, it’s going to look fucking suspicious, but I fucking guarantee you that I’m being legit.
It may not look it, but I swear it is.
I fucking promise.
“Okay, sounds good,” Mistress Strokes says to me, and looks at me before continuing. “But I still think that --” She suddenly grows quiet, her eyes widening as she looks over my shoulder. “I’m leaving,” she whispers suddenly. She goes up to her feet and, ignoring the orange juice Mike has just set on the counter, turns to leave.
“Hey, where are you going?” I ask after her, but she’s already lost in the crowd. I try and follow her blue hair with my eyes, but when Strokes doesn’t want to be followed or found, she simply vanishes up in the air.
And she’s jumpy too; if she sees anything that she doesn’t like, she runs. “Better safe than sorry,” she always tells me and, even though I agree with her, I can’t help but get annoyed whenever she leaves me hanging like this.
But the fact remains: she saw something (or someone) that she didn’t like and she bolted, just like she always does. I turn on my seat to see what frightened her, but I don’t see anything at first. The main floor is packed with horny women, all of them concentrating on the moves a half-naked Maverick is showing off on the stage, but aside from that I don’t—and then I see her.
Destiny Renee.
Her eyes are wide and, even though she’s standing under the glowing lights, I can tell that she looks pale. I don’t know why, but she saw me sitting here with Strokes and that freaked her out. Fuck, is she going to start getting fucking jealous?
I didn’t think that she’d be the kind of woman to do that. Or is this… something else? Does she know anything about Strokes?
This doesn’t look good. Destiny starts walking in my direction, walking through the crowd with her sure step, and I turn to face the counter. I down my whisky in one single gulp, readying myself to face her, and then I hear her voice cutting through the music.
Yeah, she’s pissed.
71
Destiny
My heart sank the moment I saw Austin talking with that blue-haired woman. Petite and slender, she was wearing a tight fitting black dress and she looked stunning. But that wasn’t the reason my heart sank; no, I felt like that because of the way they were talking to each other. They seemed to be talking about something serious, something secret, and there was a strange air of complicity surrounding them.