Page 5 of Loving Smoke

An hour and a half later, we rolled down Avenida Revolucion until we stopped in front of the Golden Tropics Gentlemen’s Club. The worst building at the end of the busy street. The neon sign was mostly burnt out leaving Gold Top Men’s Club. Might almost be a better name.

Blood and I exchanged a look as we dropped our kickstands. The two-story building looked like a good breeze would knock it over. Half the shingles were missing in the front and the ones intact were riddled with holes. Either bullet holes or they had an active termite infestation. I wondered what other infestations they had, but better my mind didn’t go there yet since this was my new home.

Blood moved the homeless guy sprawled out in front of the door and we entered. Not surprisingly, the inside was worse than the outside. The musty damp air of an air-conditioner that only works half the time and the stale stink of spilled booze, piss, and sweat. I’d been in some shitty places in my thirty-five years but this ranked number one. Even surpassing my cell at MCC.

“Fuck, this place looks worse than it did when we were here a few months ago.” Blood adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder.

“Jameson said to see the manager. A guy named Ricky Morales. He has the keys to the rooms upstairs.”

Blood grunted. “I’m starting to think my cell in county last year is gonna look like an upgrade.”

I led the way past strippers who looked more like hookers. Most of them with the glazed eyes and bad skin associated with regular meth users. I might’ve fucked up with the club business, but I never employed anybody who was on the junk. Too unreliable, too much of a liability. And yeah, I smoked weed and did some lines, but I never let it get ahead of me. I’d seen way too many guys go down that path over the years and it never ended well.

“Hey, baby, how about you and me have a party.” A painfully skinny brunette latched onto me, but I kept walking and she kept hanging on. “C’mon, I love to fuck, suck, or do whatever you want.”

“Ain’t interested, babe.” I gently pushed her off but the stink of cigarettes and body odor lingered. First on the to-do list—get rid of the crackheads and tweakers.

I stopped at the end of the bar and flagged over the bartender. “Where can I find Ricky Morales?”

The girl gave me a big grin as she poured shots. “He’s in the office in the back. Second door on the left.” Then she pulled down the neck of her tank top. “C’mon back later and you can do some body shots.” She jiggled her tits and giggled again.

Fuckin’ hated women who giggle.

I jerked my chin and we made it to the back of the room without any more interruptions. The narrow, dim hallway contained a ladies’ room, men’s room, and the only other door on the left.

I rapped my knuckles against the scarred wood, then entered. Hard to say if it was Ricky’s office since all I got was an eyeful of a female ass and thick thighs riding a guy behind a desk who I assumed was Ricky.

“Hey, fucker!” Blood yelled. “You got company.”

The bimbo turned her head in our direction, but kept riding his dick. “Shit,” she screeched. “Just wait a fuckin’ minute, he’s almost there.”

A few more pumps and two loud groans later the chick threw her leg over the chair, righted her G-string, and faced us tits out teetering on five-inch stilettos.

She popped her hip and cupped her tits. “If you guys want a piece of this you’re gonna have to wait till my next set is over.” She strolled past us then threw over her shoulder, “And if it’s gonna be both of you, it ain’t gonna be cheap.”

Blood broke up laughing as he shoulder-butted me. “We’ve had more cunt thrown at us in the last five minutes than a whole week at home.”

“Jameson said to stay away from the bitches, but I think he sent me to the wrong place.” I pulled myself together and focused on the guy fixing his pants behind the desk. “You Ricky Morales?”

“Yeah.” He stood and zipped up. “Sorry about that, she can get a little carried away.”

Ricky looked to be maybe twenty-five, slim built with dark brown hair and tanned skin. He moved forward and stuck out his hand. I hesitated for a second thinking where his hand might’ve just been.

“You make a habit out of fuckin’ the help?”

His brow furrowed like my question threw him.

“She don’t mind.” Ricky winked. “None of the girls do.”

“I hope you strapped up cause some of these bitches look like they might leave something behind.”

Ricky laughed like he didn’t understand what I meant, then asked, “So, you’re the new owners?”

“Looks that way.”

“You are going to love owning this place.” Ricky waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well, that remains to be seen. Along with a lot of other things, but first things first—Jameson said you got keys for the rooms upstairs.”

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