I’m the newly elected President of this sorry MC. A bunch of fucking pussies who cut tail and ran at the first sign of trouble. They do, or rather, they did, own a lot of businesses in and around Marlowe. They walked away after a bloodbath they should’ve won between them and the Savage Angels. We killed some of them, and they killed a hell of a lot of us. It’s the way it is done in our world—we run whores, guns, and drugs, and if you fuck with us, we fight back. What you don’t do is run away from what’s yours.
Sitting on my ride staring at The Cherry, I’m watching as men and the occasional woman enter. This isn’t one of our clubs, never has been, but this place has stolen a lot of our customers from The Pink Pussy.
The Pink Pussy is now managed by the Savage Angels, but I’ll get it back. I’ve rebuilt the ranks over the last twelve months, and every day, we get new members. Soon we’ll take back what’s ours.
I want to get a look inside the club to see what all the hype is about. Especially a dancer called Destiny, who’s a crowd-pleaser. Word on the street is she doesn’t do private dances, and she won’t fuck you for money, either. If she worked for me and someone had the green, she’d be flat on her back, making me extra.
Climbing off my ride, I head for the doors. Security is tight—two on the door—and they look like they could take care of themselves. Big motherfuckers.
“Hello, sir, welcome to The Cherry,” says one of them as I step into the club while the other gives me a once-over and pays me no more attention. Without my colors on, no one is the wiser.
Entering the club, two more working security are on the inside facing the stage, scanning for potential threats. I head for the bar and wait for the bar staff currently serving all the customers in this joint.
It’s packed. Strippers are working the poles, loud music thumps, making it hard to hear anyone, and as I look behind the bar, a sign says two-drink minimum.
“Excuse me, handsome. I need to put my tray on the counter.”
I turn to see a petite little thing dressed in black, wearing a tight top and short shorts.
I give her my best possible smile and ask, “It’s busy tonight, something special on?”
Without looking at me, she takes all the empties off her tray and says, “It’s Destiny’s night. They all come for her. She’ll be on in an hour. If I were you, I’d grab a table and let us servers serve you, and you’ll get your drink a lot quicker too. Pretty soon, all the tables will be full, and they’ll stop people from coming in.”
“Thanks for the advice.” I turn and look around. All the tables closest to the stage are taken. There are a few empty tables toward the back, so I head for one. As soon as I sit, a server comes up to me.
“What can I get you?”
“Whiskey, neat.”
“Yes, sir.”
All the servers are dressed the same, but this one has bigger tits. The thin material of her top stretches to cover them.
In front of me is a large stage with four smaller ones surrounding it. The larger stage has multiple poles set up on it and the smaller ones have one each. Right now, on each of the smaller ones, there’s a scantily clad woman, enticing the customers, smiling at everyone as they work the crowd. I’ve been told when Destiny comes out, she’s the only one on stage, the other dancers mingle as soon as she appears. I’m surprised at the amount of security in the club, but no one is causing a ruckus. All the patrons appear to be having an enjoyable time, and like most establishments they know better than to touch the dancers.
My server is working toward me, and I decide I’m going to push the limits to see what security will do. She places my drink on the table and I place my hand on her ass.
“Honey, unless you want to be eating through a straw, you’ll remove your hand before someone notices. Get me?” Her attitude is impressive.
I hold my hands up. “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”
“We have a strict no-touching policy here. Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Wasn’t aware. I’ll make sure to ask next time.” I give her a grin, and she smiles back. I hold up a fifty, and she takes it. “Bring me another, and you can keep the rest.”
“You want that now?”
Throwing back the whiskey, I enjoy its familiar burn, and through gritted teeth, I dip my head at her. She scuttles away, and I look back at the stage. Security either didn’t notice my infraction or they don’t care.
A very tall man dressed in a suit, with his broad shoulders straining against the dark fabric, appears in front of me, blocking my view. Perhaps they noticed more than I thought? Glancing up at him, he smiles.
“I don’t swing that way, man, and you’re blocking my fucking view.”
His smile grows bigger, and he sits down opposite me. “Permit me to introduce myself. Tobias Dupont, manager of The Cherry.”
“Nice to meet you, Tobias.”
“What? Not going to tell me your name?” he smirks.
“Told you, not into guys. I fuck women.”
“Yeah, me, too, but you do not touch the women in this club, at all, ever.”
My server returns and places my whiskey in front of me and a beer in front of Tobias.
“Your girl here told me. I apologized. No harm, no foul.”
He glances at the server, who nods and goes off to her next customer. He smiles at me, grabs his beer, stands, and says, “Glad we got that sorted. Enjoy your night, Mr.?”
“You, too, Tobias, have a good one.”
He stands there for a moment, shakes his head, and walks away.
I’m not telling these fuckers who I am. They’ll know soon enough. I am Adriel, and my name means a flock of God. These fuckers are going to meet my flock soon enough.
The club lights dim, and all the dancers leave the stage. Men whooping and clapping can be heard, then a chant starts, “Des-tin-y! Des-tin-y! Des-tin-y!”
A man in a bright green suit takes the stage, arms above his head waving at the now- boisterous crowd.
“Are you ready?” he yells. The crowd’s response is to yell and scream louder. “I can’t hear you!” He cups his hand behind his ear and smiles at us. “The one! The only! Des-tin-y!”
Darkness envelops the club, and the music is turned off. A spotlight is turned on, illuminating the stage while the music starts low and slowly increases in volume. I look around the club, and all eyes are glued to the area where the spotlight is pointed. The curtain behind the stage is red and appears to be shimmering. It’s then I realize it is not the curtain shimmering, it’s material that’s the same color as them, and it looks like fans. The crowd murmurs, and the excitement in the air is contagious.
