Page 3 of Torment
“Toodles.” Turning away from him, I make my way back inside once more, no doubt leaving him seething at his bike.
“For the love of fuck, stay out of Rapture!” he shouts and a grin tugs at my lips. I don’t acknowledge him as the sliding doors part for me to re-enter the building. There’s no way I’m not going back there, he knows better than that. I’ve been gone for far too long now, and I need to get back to it.
CHAPTER THREE
Rapture isn’t likeany other nightclub I’ve ever been to. Most of them are filthy, with sticky floors and little to no seating areas. This place, however, is far from the typical, shady club.
Rapture is three floors. Each one has a bar that runs the length of the back wall of the massive floor plan. The first level has a dance floor surrounded by high top tables and booths. The second level has a smaller dance floor, and a number of private rooms and meeting rooms that are used by the high rollers to do business in. The third floor is a lot quieter–thanks to soundproofing–and there are a few small stages for dancers. That floor is only accessible to VIP members who pay an obscene amount of money every month for memberships.
The club doesn’t open until six in the evening, but the staff come in at four to begin getting this place ready for business.The servers make sure the booths and tables are spotlessly clean while bartenders tidy up the bar and restock the alcohol. They triple count their registers to make sure that the money is in balance before opening. In a place this size, they use every second of those two hours. Then, they close at two in the morning and start all over again the next day.
Entering the club, I weave through the throng making my way toward a booth in the back corner. The thump from the bass vibrates in my chest as sweaty bodies bump and grind to the music, grating on my last nerve. Shoving my way through the last few people, I findmybooth packed with a group of twenty-something year old, drunken idiots. Stopping at the edge, I glare down at them. They continue their conversation before one of the girls finally looks up and sees me staring. Her glazed over eyes roam my body up and down before they meet my cold ones and she smiles.
“Well, hey there. You look like trouble,” she hiccups and I roll my eyes.
“Mmm. Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Oh yes I would.” She tries to flirt through slurred words, and reaches her finger up toward my arm. I snatch her hand before she can touch me, and lower my gaze to hers.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. You and your friends…move.” I growl the last word and her eyes narrow on me.
“Fuck you, asshole,” she hiccups. I drop her hand and impatiently wait for them to get the fuck out of my way. They finally stand to leave, and make their way out to the dance floor and I drop down into the booth. Scooting myself into the furthest corner I can, I prop my legs up across the seat then pull out a cigarette and zippo from my pocket. Sparking the end of the cancer stick, I inhale deeply before letting a steady stream of smoke out as I watch the crowd, then divert my attention to where it should be. Behind the bar. I’ve chosen this spot for areason. It’s far enough from the bar that the bartenders can’t see me tucked in the darkness, but I can see them.
More importantly, I can seeher.
Six of them run around the back of the bar fetching glasses and bottles for the customers, and despite how busy it is in Rapture tonight, they work in sync skirting around each other. They split the length of the bar into sections of twenty, and two bartenders handle each section. I watch as her and the girl she’s partnered with tonight line up shots for their section. They start a countdown, shouting over the music, and when they reachone,all twenty take their shots. Glasses slam down against the top, and they line up another round.
“Don’t you have a fucking job to do?” a deep, gravelly voice rumbles on the side of me. I smirk then stub out my cigarette on the tabletop.
“I’m doing my job. Didn’t realize yours was to watch me do it,” I snark and turn my head to see Elias standing at the other end of the booth, watching me with irritation.
“Get a damn ashtray Karson, Jesus Christ,” he huffs, then sits on the other end of the booth. Watching him carefully, I gauge his mood. Elias is like the father I never had. He found me and Mav when we were eighteen and took us in. He trained us, treated us as his own sons, and put up with our–mostly my–shit. Tonight, I can see the exhaustion in his eyes.
Perdition is open twenty-four seven; there’s no such thing as a holiday, no closing for bad weather, nothing. While the security team has shifts and scheduled days off, a handful of us only take off a few hours at a time for some sleep when our dicks are in the dirt. Right now, that’s where he is.
“How about instead of worrying about what I’m doing, you go get some sleep?” I question, ignoring his comment about the ash tray. He raises a brow and narrows his forest green eyes on me.
“If I could keep you out of this fucking club and on the damn floor, I’d be sleeping right now. Karson, we have six guards in here atyourrequest. Cameras cover every inch, and two more guards at the entrance,” he says pointedly before looking over his shoulder towards the bar, then back at me. “I think everything’s fine here, take a walk.” The corner of my mouth lifts into a half smirk and I shake my head.
Out of the six, I trust three of them. I’ve gotten to know just about all of our security guards in the year we’ve been open. The three I trust were from Michael’s pool of men who have prior casino experience. They’ve worked in some of the country’s largest casinos, from the Northeast coast to Las Vegas, gaining experience and becoming damn good at their jobs. The other three have experience, but not as much and only worked gaming floors. The club is a whole different animal. When working on a gaming floor, most of your shift is walking around and watching to make sure that people aren’t trying to cheat whatever game they’re on–whether it’s cards or slots. Here, your head has to be on a constant swivel.
“You know I’m not going to do that.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh, then a halfhearted laugh.
“How’d everything go with the John Doe out front?” he asks, changing the subject. He knows me better than that, and knows that I’m not changing my mind–I’m here for a reason.
“The police got everything they needed, but not before we made sure we had it too.” He watches me for a minute before nodding in approval.
“Good. They always say they’re going to take over, but we know how that goes.”
I nod my head in agreement. We sit in silence for a while, watching the crowd in front of us dance, laugh and drink without a care in the world. It’s still relatively early and despite the factthat the club is packed, the night is just getting started. Elias slaps his knees and stands from the booth.
“Alright well since you’re not moving, one of us has to walk around the floor. Call me if you need me,” he says and I give him a nod. Watching him as he makes his way to the club's entrance, he disappears and my eyes scan the bar once more. He’s right, he can't keep me out of here. Despite the fact that I have one reason, and one reason only for being here, my being in Rapture has proven effective–which is why no one gives me any shit for not leaving. My attention may seem laser focused, but I don’t miss anything that’s happening around me.
The group that was doing shots at the bar all stand, and they begin to stumble their way to the dance floor. It doesn’t take long for another group to fill in their seats, but that quick clearing gives me a clear look at the one reason in question.
She quickly wipes down the counter and clears the shot glasses, and she tosses her head back laughing at something the other bartender says. When she looks back down, her long, copper strands fall in her face. Suddenly, her head snaps up and looks in my direction before the new crowd blocks my view once more. She can’t see me, but her body is attuned to my presence. She knows I’m here. I notice her jaw tense for a moment. But just as quickly she plasters on a smile for her new customers. A grin pulls at my lips, and I pull out another cigarette.
