It needs a fucking facelift badly. The red velvet booths stink like booze and body fluids. All of them need to be removed. On that note, I take out my phone to schedule someone to get in here tomorrow and clean them.
“I’m closing the club tomorrow morning for a deep cleaning.” I don’t look up as I state this, but I can sense them both staring at me.
“This place is a gold mine. Don’t mess with its mojo,” Edge grunts into his beer bottle.
Now I do look up. “It’s a fucking sty and quite frankly, I’m amazed the health department hasn’t shut your ass down.”
He snorts and leans his head back, his red hair standing straight up on the velvet couch. “I pay a lot of money so that doesn’t happen.”
I scowl at him then at Ryder who seems preoccupied with his phone. When I get like this, I either need to fuck or fight. Since I have sworn off Charlie, I wish Axel was here so I could kick his ass.
I look at the door. It’s close to meeting time. The kid says he has his dad’s old cell phone. Stupid, yes. Helpful, we’ll see.
“Go get your cock sucked by Destiny—you need it.” Ryder looks up from his phone and grins. “And no, I’m not going to step out and let you beat up on me because you’re hung up on a woman and won’t admit it.”
Edge raises his head and looks at us. “The fuck? Who is it?” I should be insulted at his shocked expression.
“Jesus Christ.” I scoot out of the booth. “I can’t stand the smell of this place and the music is shit. I’m fucking done.”
I don’t care if the DJ is tired or on drugs. This place is a disgrace.
“Poet, sit down and shut the fuck up. If anyone needs to get laid, it’s you.” Ryder snickers as he types on his phone.
“That’s the last thing I need.” I look around to see if there are any options. He’s probably right. I can’t drink and no one wants to fight. And since I’m done with my raven-haired beauty with the golden eyes, why not fuck a stripper in the back? Take the pressure off.
Unfortunately, although they try to maintain themselves, all the girls seem too pale compared to Charlie and her magical pussy that makes my demons stop talking.
“Actually”—he sets down his phone and crosses his arms—“you need to be honest with yourself, man.”
“Ryder, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The disco lights come on signaling a new girl and covering him in rainbows. I lean over the table. “Don’t overstep your bounds, brother.”
I glare at him and he looks back, raising a brow.
“I’m telling it like it is. You’re starting to act like Prez, and he was a jackass for months. Fuck man, you’re supposed to be like mature. It doesn’t take a mental giant to get that you want this girl.”
My eyes narrow as I inhale. My fists are clenched so tightly my knuckles crack. Ryder shakes his head and picks up his phone again.
“Not gonna happen, Poet. Find someone else to take out your shit on.”
“Um, hey.” We all turn toward a scrawny young guy. He clears his throat and looks around the club. Again, it’s a dive. If he’s bothered by it, he hides it well.
I remember his old man. He was one scary fucker, so I guess growing up with that as your role model makes you tough even if it looks like the wind could blow you over.
Our pathetic lights, which we pretend are strobe lights even though they’re far from it, zero in, creating one big spotlight on Tiffany. We all turn to observe her crawl across the stage dressed like a cat.
“Brodie?”
“Yeah, I just came from class.”
I turn back to him. He’s dressed in a pink shirt and tight khaki skinny jeans.
“Here, have a seat. Any problem finding the place?”
“No, I plugged it into my phone and boom.” He slides into the booth, nodding to Edge and Ryder, who are both absorbed in watching Tiffany crawl and roll around the stage.
“I’d delete that if I were you.” I want to roll my eyes at people’s stupidity with leaving a trail. It’s why I don’t have a phone. I use burners and toss them when done.
“You want something to drink?”
He pulls out his phone and looks at it frowning. “Um, sure.” He looks at Ryder. “I’ll have that.”
If the kid is nineteen, I’d be surprised. Whatever. He’s here and hopefully what he has is genuine, so we don’t have to beat him.
He taps the table to the horrible music, his eyes drifting back to Ryder. “You’re the Enforcer right?”
Ryder drags his eyes from Tiffany’s naked chest. “Yeah, I’m the Enforcer.”
Brodie smiles and looks down at his hands. “My old man said you were badass.”