Page 34 of Unholy Cross

“What changed?”

“Incompetence.The original owner was a little too addicted to his own vices.He was the one who hired Torrance.”The disgust in her voice was unmistakable.

“Not a fan?”

“Nah.He’d rather shoot his veins up rather than run this place.”

Cross made a snap decision and held out his hand.“Aera Cross.”

She ran her hand down her jeans and then shook his.“Mabel Snow.”

“You seem to know what you’re doing.”

Mabel shrugged.“I’ve had to step in to keep the doors open.Ordering the alcohol, staying friendly with the vendors.Paying off the EHS when they come around, because none of this would pass inspection.I just can’t get the scum out of here.”

He nodded.“That’s my job.”

She gave him a crooked smile.“Torrance is in that pile of dicks banging the drunk chick.He’s the shorter bald man.”

“Awesome,” he muttered.He pulled his phone out and called Jeremiah.“It’s me.”

“What in the fucking hell is that garbage you’re listening to?”

“It’s in your dive bar.I think you got fleeced, brother.This place is nothing but a cesspool.”

“Where’s Torrance?”

“Standing in line to fuck some chick on a table, jacking off while he waits his turn.”

Jeremiah let off a litany of curses, which had Cross smiling in glee.Anything to get a rise out of the man.

“I might have a replacement for Torrance,” he said once Jeremiah quieted down.“If you want me to clean this place up instead of torching it.”

“Tell me, do you think it could make money?”

Cross glanced around.The club was located in a decent place, had ample parking, and the bones looked good.“Yeah.I think it would if the right management was behind it.”

“Then make it happen.”

Jeremiah ended the call.Cross smiled at Mable.“Would you like a promotion?”

Her eyebrows shot up.“To what?”

“You’ve been managing without being a manager.I think it’s time you stepped higher on the pay grade.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Do I look like someone who kids around?Yes or no?”

“Yes!”There wasn’t any hesitation.

Cross acknowledged her acceptance, then headed over to find Torrance.The woman at the bottom of a topper party moaned like a porn star and had to be over fifty.Her bleached hair lay in greasy strips.Her makeup resembled the Joker.Her tits sagged to the side and a sour smell radiated from her overused cunt.

He kicked the man rutting away between her legs, pushing him so hard he fell to the side.The group of men blinked at him, unsure of what just happened.

“The train is over,” he snapped.“Get the fuck out.”

“Who the fucking hell are you?”

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