Page 3 of The Bloke

The rings signify our status and membership in the MUR. They’re subtle enough that we can identify one of our own, but those outside have no idea what they mean.

Once you completed your initiation, you were given a list of available jobs and could choose whichever you wanted. I went with a poolside bartender because I enjoyed the casual conversation and people-watching that comes with it. The endless sea of bikinis and the winters off were a nice incentive, too.

The Men Under Revue payroll sets you up for life starting from day one, so it doesn’t matter what job you choose after passing the initiation tests and receiving your ring. They reward those worthy of living within their secret society—especially those who complete their contracted jobs without causing problems and attracting unwanted attention.

The day job keeps you busy, but it also means there are more eyes on the Strip to maintain order and peace.

The only industry we haven’t tapped into is law enforcement. They were the only ones not on our payroll… Yet. We’ll get there eventually.

“That’s all for tonight’s training. Good work, boys. Now get the fuck out of here.” Jaxon called out, pulling his phone from his back pocket and exiting the showroom.

The rest of us, being tired and overly exhausted, just mumble and groan to ourselves as we pack up our shit and leave for the night.

It was roughly two in the morning, and I had to be at the bar by eight.

As they always say,Vegas is the city that never sleeps…and if that isn’t the fucking truth.

Chapter 2

Colby

THREE MONTHS EARLIER.

INITIATION: TEST ONE.

When I moved here, I arrived with nothing but a backpack and a dream to change my life. I knew the change would be a struggle from the very beginning, and because of that, I knew I couldn’t have asked for much—beggars can’t be choosers.

I was lucky to snag this job, dancing on a stage for a showroom filled to the brim with crazed women every night, but the checks alone weren’t cutting it. With Jaxon expecting daily strength training and constant dance rehearsals, there wasn’t enough time left in the day to work a second or third job—not like I would have had the energy to do so, either.

“Colby, you look like shit, mate.” Nick slapped me on my shoulder as he passed behind to reach his locker. He startedworking in this show over a year ago and took me under his wing when I got hired, like a mentor. “Getting enough sleep?”

Aside from Jaxon, Nick was another favorite in the show. He had shoulder-length blonde hair, which he tied back into a low, tight bun most nights. His ears were gauged, and his body was covered in tattoos. The ladies went fucking nuts for him and his baby blue eyes.

“Not in the least. How the fuck do you afford your penthouse while working here?” I ran a hand through my dark hair, forgetting it was already covered in body oil.Fuck.

I’ve been to Nick’s place a few times for drinks with some of the other blokes. He had a penthouse on the east side with a sweet-ass view of The Strip; it was breathtaking at night.

It was exactly what I wanted when I moved here, and I had no fucking clue how he could afford it if I was just barely surviving in my cheap one-bedroom apartment several miles out on the west side.

Nick sighed at my response and looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else was in the locker room with us. After confirming that we were the only ones here, he turned back to face me and grinned as if he was about to confess to a murder he was proud of dishing out.

“Look… I like you, and I can clearly see you’re struggling.” He paused, dragging his tongue along the back of his perfect, straight white teeth. “If you think you can handle some fucked up shit, meet me at my car after the show tonight. I’ll show you how I can afford everything.” He winked before pulling on his white tank top and stepping around me to exit the locker room.

I frowned as he left me behind to consider his offer.

“Fucked up shit?”I mumbled in curiosity.

I was sure everyone had a different opinion as to what is considered ‘fucked up’ these days, and my version might be very different from his. But whatever it was, I was game if it meantI could finally afford to survive here. With a slam of the locker door, I made my way backstage for the start of tonight’s show.

Leaning against Nick’s car,I waited for over an hour, looking bored as fuck with my arms crossed over my chest, staring at the cement wall of the underground parking lot—the sounds of screeching tires and clicking heels ringing in my ears.

Nick had to stay back for the post-show photo ops and to sign autographs for the women who purchased them. I was not obligated to do this, considering I was still new, but eventually, it would also be part of my show routine.

The lights on his car flashed several times, and Nick approached it from around the corner.

“Get in, we’re gonna be late.” He urged, unlocking the doors and getting into the driver’s seat without looking at me.

I shrugged, dropping into the passenger seat and pulling the seatbelt across my lap.

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