Page 7 of Bad Boy Next Door
Three
Nick
Someone pounded on the alley door of the club. One of the girls came out of the dressing room.
“Stay back,” I told her, shaking my head.
I opened the door slowly, blocking the entrance with my body in case it was the cops. It was illegal to have dancers go fully nude in a place that served alcohol. Solid Gold broke that law dozens of times a night.
Shit. Instead of the cops, I was face-to-face with my brother Shane. Well, more like his face to my chin. Second youngest, barely a year older than me, Shane was the shortest Downey brother, probably only five ten or eleven, and skinny. Even skinnierthesedays. That’s what came from a diet of vodka and cocaine.
Speaking of my brother’s drug of choice, his left nostril was coated in white, and his eyes were wide and frantic. He pushed against me. “Let me in. Come on, Nick. Let me in.”
“Not a chance. You know you’re banned from the club.”
He glanced down the alley, then bobbed and bounced in front of me. “Don’t be a shit. They’re going to kill me.”
“Who, Shane? I don’t see anyone.”
Just then two men in dark clothing appeared at the mouth of the alley. Shane pulled a piece from the front waistband of his jeans.
“Shit, Shane. You know you can’t carry.” I let him slip under one of my arms. “Put that thing away,” I said over my shoulder. “Hide in the men’s room.” If the cops caught him with a weapon, he’d be back in jail. And if my boss found out I’d let my brother into the club, I’d be fired.
The men in the alley spotted me. If I closed the door now they’d bang on it, drawing even more attention to my problem.
I stepped forward, kicking the door shut behind me. Planting myself in front of the door, I folded my arms over my chest.
“Where is he?” the first man asked. He was dressed in a shitty-looking suit, collar open, his chin pubes ratty and gross.
“Where’s who?”
“That skinny little shit.” The second man was heavy, panting from the exertion of running, his pale skin slicked with sweat. Dressed in a tough-guy uniform of jeans and a black shirt, he was big, but I could take him. Take both of them if it came to that.
“Skinny shit?” I took a step forward. “Sorry, don’t know anyone by that name.”
“He came down this alley,” Suit Guy said. “Shane Downey.”
“You sure?” I looked up and down the alley. “I’ve been standing here a while. Haven’t seen anyone.”
“You let him into the club,” Tough Guy said.
“This entrance is for staff only.” I hitched back my head. “No one works here named Shane.”
“Then you don’t mind if we check.” Suit Guy narrowed his eyes and moved his hand under his open jacket onto what I assumed was a gun.
“Feel free.” I nodded toward the street. “Entrance is off Hamilton.”
“We’ll go in this way.”
Tough Guy got up in my face. His breath smelled like ass.
I didn’t budge. “Like I said. Staff only.”
“Here’s my staff ID.” Suit Guy pulled out his gun and, holding it sideways, pointed at me like a total amateur.
“Oh, okay. Why didn’t you say so sooner?” I turned for the door, then burst back, spinning. My roundhouse landed my heavy boot directly below the elbow of the guy’s gun arm.
A shot went off as his hand rose.
