Page 8 of Queenpin
Raul points his thumb over to the club and then looks at me. “Lucian doesn’t like it when her employees fraternize with other businesses around here. It’s time to go home.” The man is shorter than I am, and he’s got about fifty pounds on me. However, I know when I can’t win a fight and there’s no way, I would be winning a fight with him. He looks like he would kill me without a second glance.
Put off by the sudden gruffness of his voice, I turn and walk home. By the time I get home, I’m kicking my own ass for not telling that guy to suck a dick. God damn. When did I become such a pussy?
***
I’m dressed in a pair of black dress pants and steel grey button down with my only nice pair of shoes. I’m hoping that I’m dressed well enough for this, but I have no idea what to expect.
“Looks like my brother got the gig,” Andrew whistles from the side of the door with his hip resting against it.
I nod. “Ibarelygot it, man.”
“Wanna get me into the club? I hear they’ve got the best-looking babes in Detroit?”
Rolling my eyes, I tighten my belt. “Not sure if that sets the best example for me. Bringing my brother to work with me and trying to get him into the most exclusive club in Detroit? Yeah, I’m sure I would get invited back to cook.”
“Be careful, bro. I mean it. These people are into some deep shit that you couldn’t even fathom,” Andrew warns before walking out.
I tried researching the club online but there isn’t much information regarding it. According to the website, it’s a member’s only type of thing. You have to be invited by a current member.
On the front page of it, there is a picture of Lucian with her hair down and surrounding her face. She looks gorgeous and I can’t help but want to wrap my hands in her hair and pull her to my dick.
Oh, my fucking god. I’m a god damned pussy.
I throw my phone on the couch before spraying on some cologne and then I pick the phone back up. I slide it into my pocket and make sure I have my keys… ready to go. Wait… I turn grabbing the folder with the contract that needed to be signed, now I am ready.
“Yo, fuckwad. Your part of the rent is due tomorrow. When are you going to get the money?” Andrew calls out from the living room.
I walk past him and out the door. I’m not in the mood to get into an argument with him over this. It’s not worth it. I know I need to pay him.
Seriously, my brother will fucking kick me out if I don’t get money for this. I can’t live on the streets.
Since I can’t afford to put gas in the piece of shit car that I bought off of Dad, I take the walk to the club. Carrying my phone and key’s in one hand and the folder given to me by the secretary, I take the few blocks to the club and consider this.
Why would I need to sign an NDA to cook in a club? What kind of shit happens in these rooms that would require one? The vague veil of what happens in this club ring through my thoughts.
Was Andrew just being a dick or did he actually know something about this place? If he knew about what they do here, how did he know? From what I can tell, it’s exclusive. Andrew’s not the type to go to this kind of thing without knowing for sure he’s getting some.
So, how would he know?
My phone rings in my hand and I flip it over to see my buddy Brad calling. “Hey, bro. I got this problem that I need your help on.”
Ever since we were kids, this mother fucker had constantly thought of several get-rich-quick-schemes. Every time he called me and told me he had a problem meant he needed muscle back up because he shorted someone on one of those schemes. One of these days, he’s going to piss off the wrong people, and get himself killed.
I roll my eyes. Brad is always getting himself into trouble one way or another. Last time he had a problem, I bailed him out of jail. “Nah, man. I can’t. I have a gig.”
A shout and then a chuckle takes over my ear. I yank the phone away to ensure I still have eardrums. “It’s about fuckin’ time you gotta job! I thought for sure I would be visiting you at the homeless shelter!”
“Bye, Brad.” I hang up on him before he could say anything else that would make me nervous about tonight. Or more nervous. Shit, I feel like I’m thirteen again and about to touch Mindy Millner’s boobs behind the bleachers during the pep rally.
In my defense, Mindy had the biggest tits in eighth grade. Those things were so big that they stuck out of her cheerleading uniform. When my dick jumped up to full attention, I got so nervous that I grabbed them too hard and she yelled.
Needless to say, I never got to go to third base with Mindy. She was a whore though. I know for a fact she slept with Brad.
I take a look at the ringing phone again and notice it’s Brad. Again. “What now, asshole?” I groan into the phone.
“You don’t even know what I need your help with.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think I want to know what you need my help with. I don’t want to go to fucking prison because of you!”
