Page 113 of Rut Bar

After a brief hesitation, she nods. “Okay.”

I leave her in her office and head downstairs to teach the other bartender’s the drink special and update the board. Once the club is open and packed with customers, I feign a stomach bug and dump my work on the others. They’re happy to absorb my tips even though they’re mad they have to cover my slack.

My cousins gave me some of the stuff we need, but I still have to grab some things from the store. I throw on a baseball hat I stole from costuming and pay in cash. Vee’s standing out back in the shadows when I pull into Rut’s parking lot and idle.

She opens the passenger door and slides in, and I haul the duffel bag from the back and hand it to her. “Here. Change your clothes and shoes. They’ll be big on you, but you can stuff the toes of the boots with the extra socks.” I pull out of the lot and merge into traffic while she inspects everything.

“What are we doing?” Vee asks while she rummages through the bag and pulls out the navy sweatsuit I bought her and another baseball cap I swiped from Darlene’s costume cubbies at Rut. “And why am I dressing like an old man?”

“We tried things Brendan’s way,” I answer. “Now we’re trying mine.”

“Should I be scared?” she asks.

“Never.” Reaching over, I take her hand and squeeze it. “I’ll never let anything hurt you.”

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” she says sarcastically. Vee unbuckles her seatbelt and wiggles into her sweatsuit. She kicks out of her heels and tugs on the socks, then stuffs the extra pair into the oversized boots.

“Don’t forget to tuck all of your hair up in that hat,” I remind her.

She struggles to contain it all but eventually twists it up enough to shove the hat onto her head. “What, no balaclava to complete the look?” she asks, teasing me. Once she’s dressed, she buckles up again. “And what’s with the navy? Were they fresh out of black robber chic outfits?”

I shake my head and grin. Trust Vee to be more worried about her outfit than the illegal things we’re about to do. I love this girl. She’s perfect. “Black stands out too much in the dark. Dark blue or gray or olive green blend into the shadows better. A ski mask would attract way too much attention. Keep the hat on and your face tilted down. We won’t have to worry about the cameras for long.”

“I don’t know if it makes me a bad person that I’m more excited than scared right now,” she says while she stares out the window.

“I think sometimes you have to do the wrong thing to make something right.”

“So the ends justify the means?”

“If you’re doing it for the right reasons, yeah.” I’ve never been very concerned with society’s inflexible views of behavior. What’s so wrong with doing what it takes to get what you want? I didn’t want my father’s life, but I understand why he did the things he did. Because he did them for us. His family.

Vee sighs and fiddles with the temperature controls, cranking the air conditioning higher to keep her cool in the warmer outfit. “So what exactly are we doing? Are you going to tell me now?”

“They can’t open on time if their building’s a wreck.”

I wait for a protest that never comes. Vee is like me. She helps the people she cares about. She does what it takes to take care of her family. I remember how it was in the early days while she was still finding her footing. When the club was struggling to find its niche. The people who fucked with her quickly found out she wouldn’t take it. It takes a lot of nerve for a young woman, an omega, to stand up to alphas. That’s half the reason I fell in love with her. She’s brave. Fearless.

I reach for her hand again and squeeze it, dragging it over so it’s resting on my thigh. We make our way to Hung. It’s on the opposite side of town, only a half-hour drive with moderate traffic.

Hung’s location isn’t as good as Rut’s. Terrible is putting it mildly. They’re too close to Skid Row and too far from West Hollywood. The building is a sad little standalone beige cube with tall windows that have posters blocking the view and affording the club privacy while advertising the services that will be found inside. A vinyl banner on the side says coming soon. Its parking lot is enclosed with a chain-link fence, and the highway overpass hovers over it at the corner. At first glance, you wouldn’t know it was a strip club. It could easily be a tax preparer’s office or a liquor store. It has none of the charm of Rut.

“Yikes,” Veronica says when she sees it.

I can’t imagine any omega feeling comfortable enough to drag their friends here. But an omega desperate to get out of an abusive relationship might brave it from thinking they have no other choice. “Are we still doing this?”

“I don’t even know what you have planned.”

That’s not a no, so I take it as a yes. “Look in the backpack in the back.” I circle the block and find somewhere to park further down while Vee drags the heavy backpack up front and rummages through it. She pulls out a can and shakes it.

“Spray paint? You think that’ll really shut them down?”

I shrug and park. “Would you want to go to a club covered with a bunch of spray painted dicks?” I ask her.

Vee snorts and shakes the can of hot pink spray paint. “Point taken. I’ve never done this before.”

“Used spray paint?” I ask her, feigning misunderstanding.

Vee gives me an unamused look. “Vandalized a building. Of course I’ve used spray paint.”

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