Page 112 of Rut Bar

“Darlene just sent me this. A friend of hers saw it off the highway heading into LA.” Vee hands her phone to Brendan.

I look over his shoulder to see the screen. It’s a slightly blurry photo of a billboard lit up at night. Three handsome shirtless alphas post suggestively together while the ad announces the opening of a new burlesque club called Hung. It opens in two weeks.

“Oof.” I grimace and take the phone from Brendan to show it to Jamie.

“They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” Brendan says.

I roll my eyes and Vee shoots him a murderous look, and that shuts him up. This isn’t good. Vee won’t tolerate such flagrant copying.

“Oh! I know him,” Jamie says, pointing to a model. “He danced at Rut for a few months last year. He looks good. What was his name again?”

Vee gets off the couch and starts pacing, her hands going into her hair and fluffing it up. “I don’t care what his name is. And all three of them used to dance at Rut. They can’t do this. This can not be happening.”

Brendan scratches a hand through his short hair. “I mean… They can, though. As long as they don’t use the Rut name, it’s perfectly legal for them to open a club with the same idea. Nobody owns an idea, only the unique expression of it. You’ve never had competition before?”

Vee folds her arms across her chest and stands in front of the TV. “Of course I’ve had competition before. And none of those clubs made it. I’m not worried about some generic knockoff of my business. That’s not the problem.”

Brendan glances at us for guidance or help. I get why she’s concerned. The other clubs rebranded themselves for a themed night a few times a month. They weren’t dedicated to the concept. Those owners saw Vee raking in money hand over fist and thought they could cash in on the idea for a quick buck. But since they’d made their reputation by serving alpha customers with omega entertainment, they flopped. The omegas didn’t turn out in droves because those clubs didn’t have a reputation of being a safe space for them. It’s been a while since a club tried to copy her.

“It’s the name,” I tell him. “It’s too close to Rut.”

“Exactly!” She throws her hands in the air and goes back to pacing. “They’re gonna get confused,” Vee mutters to herself. “They’re gonna go to the wrong bar and ask the wrong people for help. Fuck. I’ve gotta warn Rob and Moira and the others. Where’s my phone? Thanks.”

Vee takes her phone back and starts typing furiously, her nails clacking against the screen.

“It’s late,” Brendan says. “Let’s get some sleep and we’ll talk to a lawyer tomorrow and see what the options are.”

Lawyers? Lawyers are going to tell her there’s nothing she can do. Brendan was right the first time. She owns Rut, she doesn’t own the concept of an all alpha strip club. She’s going to pay a lot of money to be told there’s nothing she can do.

“When does it open?” Jamie asks.

“Two weeks,” Vee mutters.

Two weeks is nothing in the realm of legal business dealings. They’ll be open and running by the time she gets an answer. But if I learned anything from my family, it’s that good business isn’t always legal.

Brendan distracts and soothes Vee enough that he convinces her to deal with it tomorrow and go to bed. And while we’re all settling into the nest, I lie there and think.

Three days later, I haven’t made much progress. Vee’s probably not going to go for any of the things my cousins recommended. To be fair, kidnapping the owner and convincing him it would be better for his health to rebrand is likely a step too far for most people.

I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. While I don’t have any ideas about how to permanently fix this, I know exactly how we can delay their grand opening. And if we irritate and delay them enough, they’ll get the hint and make better life choices. I might feel bad about ruining some poor asshole’s life, but he fucked with my girl. And that can’t be tolerated.

I finish mixing up today’s drink special, a pretty drink called In Cold Blood Orange, and bring it up to her office. She’s at her desk and Brendan’s not. There couldn’t be a more perfect time. It’s like a sign from God.

“Hey,” I greet her and hand her the drink.

She smiles, but it’s strained. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is twice as frizzy as it should be at this hour. I hate that she’s so upset. It kills me to see her worried. I need to fix this. To prove I’ll always take care of her, no matter what.

“It’s good,” Vee says after sipping it. She puts it down without finishing it. “What’s it called?”

My mind is made up now. This can’t go on. I hate how Vee shoulders everything alone. If she looks like this after three days, she’s gonna be a wreck in two weeks. And that’s unacceptable for the love of my life and the future mother of my baby.

I know what we have to do.

“Meet me out back at eleven,” I tell her, “but be discreet while you slip away. Don’t let anyone see you leave, and don’t tell the others.”

Vee frowns. “That’s way too long of a name to fit on the menu.”

“I’m serious. Trust me, Vee. We’re fixing this tonight.”

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