Page 4 of Day Shift

“Aw, but I love a challenge,” the man protested, smirking at me.

“Good luck with that guy,” I said to Slade, laughing and shaking my head as I walked past him and into the club.

The front room was a blur of activity tonight. I strode toward the bar area that ran the length of the left side of the dance floor. Gabriel, one of the other club owners, was pouring a drink with a flourish, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Anastasia! There you are!” he exclaimed. “Thought you’d never show up.”

Stepping behind the bar, I reached under the counter and pulled out the box where we stashed invoices, receipts, and such before taking them upstairs to the office. “Please, you know I wouldn’t miss one of my scheduled nights here,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“True, true. But hey, better late than never, right?” he said, returning his attention to the cocktail he was preparing for a customer.

“Right,” I agreed. With that, I quickly reviewed some of the paperwork in the box. Seeing there wasn’t anything urgent, I shoved it back inside and decided to deal with it later.

After tucking the box away, I headed downstairs to the underground gaming room. It was our most restricted area, a place for discreet clientele, secret deals, and high-stakes wagers.

As I entered, I spotted several familiar faces at one of the poker tables. Among them was the governor’s brother, who raised his hand to me in acknowledgment. As I stopped next to the poker table, I watched him toy with a stack of poker chips. He let them drop in quick succession, and a rapid, sharp clacking noise resonated from the table. The distinct sound, familiar in the poker scene, signaled tension and contemplation. He repeated the motion, and the chips produced another crisp, satisfying clatter.

“Good evening, Mr. Harrington. A pleasure to see you again,” I greeted him warmly. “How’s Lady Luck treating you tonight?”

“Ah, Anastasia! Always a pleasure to see you too,” he said, his voice dripping with the practiced charisma of someone used to being in the public eye. “And not so good these first couple of hands, but that’s all about to change now that my lucky charm showed up. You know, I was just telling these fine folks about the time you took down that arrogant billionaire, Callahan, with three queens.”

“Oh gosh, I remember that guy,” I reminisced with a grin. “Nothing quite like putting someone in their place.” I turned to address the other players—each person/man more powerful than the last—and nodded at one of our congressmen. “Gentlemen, is there anything I can get for you?”

“Another round of drinks would be lovely,” replied Marcus Gates, a prominent financier.

“Only your presence at the table, pretty lady,” another player chimed in, wagging his brows.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I said, sliding my fingers along the top of his shoulders. With a wink and a raise of my chin, I signaled one of the servers to come over. “Best of luck to you all.”

As I left them to their game, I heard my name over the hubbub of the room.

“Anastasia!” Lachlan, another co-owner, called out again from a shadowy corner behind the bar. I moved through the crowded room toward him, checking on each group of guests and stopping to chat along the way. The beat of the music vibrated through my entire body as I walked.

Eventually, I made it over to him and settled against the downstairs bar, breathing in the rich scent of aged whiskey before turning to survey the room. Club Xyst was alive with energy tonight. Clouds of expensive perfume wafted through the air. Voices deep in conversation boomed throughout the room, accompanied by the vigorous rustling of cards being shuffled and dealt.

“Hey, Lach, how’s everything going?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the noise. “Are we making a killing at the tables?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned. “The high rollers are in full force, and the house is doing well. We’re making a killing at the bar here and upstairs as well,” he added in his thick Irish accent.

“Excellent. And how’s our liquor inventory holding up?”

“Fully stocked, as always,” he assured me. “We’re prepared for any party that comes our way.”

“Good to hear.” I nodded in approval. Then, glancing around, I asked, “By the way, have you seen Lucian?”

Lachlan’s smile faded. “Ah, my brother is probably in the office fuming right now.”

“Really? What happened?” I asked, concerned.

“Apparently, the New York State Liquor Authority and police are threatening to take away our liquor license,” he explained, swallowing as if he were choking down a bitter pill. “Some spoiled twenty-year-old idiot got in here with a fake ID, got absolutely shit-faced, and ended up punching a cop just after leaving the club. The kid was with one of our regulars who swears he thought his younger cousin had turned twenty-one.”

“Damn,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. “That’s not good.”

“Yeah, Lucian’s pretty pissed about it,” Lachlan admitted, his expression growing grim. “It’s a pretty big mess.”

“Yeah, that’s a serious situation. Losing our ability to sell alcohol would fucking ruin us,” I said, gripping the edge of the bar and chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Well, I’d better go check on him. Thanks for the update, Lach.”

“Any time, Ana,” he replied, his smile returning.

The lively noise of laughter and conversation followed me as I ascended to the main floor. Here, the dim lights and music created a lively vibe, with the clinking of glasses and murmur of conversations adding to the ambiance. My heels, precarious on the slick hardwood floor, forced me to weave a careful path through the dense crowd to avoid a clumsy fall. The club was filled with an eclectic mix of individuals hanging out and having a good time. A signature aroma—a unique mixture of sweat and alcohol—permeated the place.

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