Page 6 of The Menagerie

Chapter 2: Malcolm

WHEN SATURDAYnight finally arrives, Rowan is nearly vibrating out of his skin. He received his test results from his doctor’s office this morning—all negative, thankfully—which means that he can stay at the club tonight once his membership is finalized.

He doesn’t even fully know what that entails yet, but hopefully he can meet someone at the bar there and spend the night with them. God, just the thought of hooking up with someone who will likely have the same or similar interests as he does has his cock twitching in his jeans.

Since receiving Clover’s email two days ago, he’s jerked off six times and feels like he could go another six rounds at least and still not be satisfied.

He takes a deep breath and tells himself to calm the fuck down. The long hot shower he takes helps. He makes sure to scrub his body thoroughly, wash his hair, and use some leave-in conditioner so he can style his undercut properly without it frizzing up on top like it usually does on these warm summer nights.

He towels off and considers his wardrobe. He still doesn’t have much, but the hand-me-downs from his older brother, Jay, are gone, and he has a mostly full closet of clotheshelikes and more options than he’s ever had before. The FAQ portion of the website said business casual to cocktail attire is common, so he searches for something that will fit those criteria without being too formal.

Freshly dressed in dark jeans and a white button-up, he gathers everything he’ll need for tonight and hops in his Honda Civic to make the twenty-minute drive to the club.

He finds a parking spot in the back and circles the building to enter through the front. The club looks much the same as it had when he was here a few days ago, but now he can fully appreciate the ambiance. He approaches the desk at the entryway, nestled before the room opens into the familiar lounge and bar area.

The same blond woman who had ushered them inside the other day is standing at the desk, but this time she’s dressed in a slinky black leather dress with a matching choker collar. The blue light of a computer casts a glow on her face, and Rowan notes the cherry-red lipstick and smoky eye shadow. She looks intimidating, but in an entirely different way than she had in her business suit.

He clears his throat.

“’Scuse me?”

She looks up at him through her long eyelashes.

“Hi there! How can I help you?”

“I have a meeting with Clover Monroe at seven, I was just approved for a membership. Rowan Campbell.”

“Welcome, Rowan! I’m Camilla. I run the front of house. Follow me.”

She leads him past the bar and down the same hallway he’d taken to get to the injured man earlier in the week. She hasn’t given Rowan any cue that she recognizes him, which seems odd, but he’s sure it’s the same woman.

“Did we meet the other day?” he asks, unable to contain his curiosity. “When there was an incident at the club?”

She pauses in front of a door with a plaque that reads Office and eyes him curiously.

“I think I’d remember a face like yours.”

“Uh, I was one of the paramedics who responded to the emergency here a few days ago? You showed me and my partner in.”

“Oh!” She laughs. “That must’ve been Clover. My twin. She runs things behind the scenes.”

Ah. Twins.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Happens all the time.” Camilla waves him off and knocks on the door in two quick raps, waiting for aCome in! from the other side before opening the door, revealing Clover—identical in appearance to Camilla except for her attire—behind a large white desk.

“Rowan Campbell for you,” Camilla tells her sister, ushering Rowan inside.

“Oh! You’re the EMT who was here earlier in the week,” Clover says as soon as she sees Rowan.

Rowan nods, not bothering to correct his title.

“Please, have a seat. Thanks, Cam.”

Camilla leaves with a wink to Rowan.

“Is that how you heard about us?” Clover asks.

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