Page 35 of The Mountain Man's Virgin
“No. The only thing that I knew was that he saved my life.”
I saw the corner of Lawrence's lip curl up into what I would’ve once described as a smile, but I would now call a snarl. “That explains everything,” he muttered under his breath.
How could Lawrence know who Mick was? I mean, when the concierge and paramedics knew who he was, I had assumed it was because they were locals. But Lawrence and Mick couldn’t have run in more different circles.
I promised myself that as I got home I needed to break off the engagement, and I needed to find out exactly who I had fallen in love with.
Chapter 24 – Mick
Lenny led me through a few downtown back alleys, sprint walking and talking a mile a minute. On the car ride over, he had offered me some coke and I declined, but he had no qualms about sniffing it right in front of me, his boss.
“So, there’s no password to get in, or secret handshake, or anything like that,” he said, turning to talk to me as we approached the royal blue door emblazoned with a gold crest.
“How old is this club?” I asked. The crest looked like something from the 20s.
“The main AFC was formed in 1920, but the group you’ll be interested in was formed in the 70s,” Lenny said as he pushed the buzzer. “It started out as a gentleman’s club - not a strip bar, just a place for the cream of the crop to get away from their wives. At first, they sat around smoking cigars, gambling, and drinking hooch, but then they realized that it would be more respected if they turned it into a charitable organization. We’ve donated billions to schools across America--”
Lenny was interrupted as the metal plate in the door slid to the side.
“Lenny Spinks and guest,” he said to the dark eyes.
The door creaked open and I followed Lenny into the dim light of the foyer. It was painted the same royal blue as the door and leather bench seating ran the length of the hallway. Several raincoats were already hung on hooks along the wall.
As I pulled off my Gore-Tex shell and Lenny hung his trench coat, he continued, “Where was I?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Prohibition was basically the reason the AFC was started, and it was the place to be. Booze, showgirls, you name it, it happened here. They still did charity work, but it was just for show.
In the 1970s, a few people started to get a little bored with just drinking and charity, so we had a few groups splinter off to do their own thing.”
I held my breath. This was what I needed. If Lenny spilled the beans now, I would be able to leave and stop Lucy from making a terrible mistake.
“What else is there, drugs?” I prodded.
“Of course,” he chuckled, then turned to me and whispered, “but we also have these little games and competitions between us. As you can imagine, as time has gone on, the intensity and stakes have increased.”
“Like the million-dollar prize you mentioned earlier?”
“Exactly,” Lenny said. “The buy-in for that one was big, and that means a big payout.”
“I’ve heard rumors about this club, but I thought that they were just old urban legends.”
“That’s how we want it to stay. Listen, Mick. I mean Michael…” he corrected himself.
“Mick is fine,” I muttered. I needed him to feel comfortable to keep him rambling off at the mouth.
He smiled and slapped me on the back. “You have to be introduced by a member, have a net worth of at least ten million, and be able to keep your mouth shut,” he said.
“And what happens if you don’t?” I was genuinely curious.
Lenny turned to face me with a sinister look in his eye. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again as if second-guessing himself. “Let’s just say that hasn’t happened yet. We are very careful with who we let in.”
“How did you get in?” I asked.
“My great uncle was one of the prohibition era guys. You could say that this is a family thing. Mick, don’t worry about getting in. You’ve got the status and the money, and I’ve got your back,” he said, slapping me on the shoulder.
I took a deep breath - this could get dangerous.
“What if someone wants out?”
“Nobody wants out,” Lenny said matter-of-factly. He dumped another bump of coke onto the back of his bony hand and snorted it. “Let’s go.”
