Page 4 of The Bloke

Nick drove a white Lamborghini Countach LPI 800-4, it was a sweet ride, and yet again, I still had no fucking clue how he could afford it.

“Late for what?” I asked, relaxing into the leather seat as he backed out of his spot and pulled out of the parking garage.

“Your first part of initiation.” He answered vaguely and gave me a wicked smile that radiated trouble. “You want to make the kind of money I do; you gotta earn it, and not the way we do it in that showroom.”

Nick peeled off down Las Vegas Boulevard, and without even asking, I already knew that I was getting myself into something I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t keep living like this, and I sure as fuck didn’t want to go back home.

I better not have to whore myself out for that kind of money, though.

Not fucking happening.

I’ll consider a lot for a decent income, but I will draw the line right fucking there.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a mansion in the middle of nowhere. I open the door and exit Nick’s Lamborghini as my eyes scan our surroundings. There is nothing out here, not even street lights. The only lights were those coming from the mansion itself.

The grounds were out of place but beautiful. Several stone fountains lined the circle drive, with a massive one stationed right in the center, and the grass was all artificial turf. With how dark it was, I couldn’t tell if the plants were too, but it wouldn’t have surprised me. To keep a garden this lush, green, and vibrant would cost a small fortune out here in the desert.

“Before you say anything, no, you won’t find this place on any map or GPS.” Nick chuckled as he shut his door, slipping his hands into his pockets as he strolled towards the main entrance steps.

I pressed my lips into a hard line as I followed him, remembering that I was the one who agreed to this in the first place. Where the fuck were we? Why was a massive mansion sitting here in the middle of nowhere?

As we stepped into the entryway, a butler greeted us while holding out a silver tray on top of which two masks rested. Apparently, they were expecting us; why?

Both masks were solid black, with tubing resembling glow sticks accenting the eye holes and mouth in neon red.

Nick took one of the masks and placed it over his face, and without being told to or asking what the fuck this was about, I picked up the second and pulled it on the same way. Either Nickwas fucking with me as a sick joke, or I was getting myself into some serious shit tonight.

“You may proceed to the lower level when ready. They are waiting for you," The butler instructed, gesturing to the descending staircase before exiting the foyer.

Without a word, Nick headed towards the stairs, and I gripped his arm just as he took hold of the rail.

“Nick. What the fu—”

“Relax, Colby. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you could survive it.” He assured me. What the actual fuck?

“Survive? You're not doing a great job of helping me relax, Nick. What is this?” I pressed as I released his arm and stepped back, ready to make a beeline for the exit.

Nick sighed before lifting his mask to show me his face. “There is more to The Strip than you currently understand.” He paused, searching for the right words. “There is a secret society that operates the entirety of it, and those of us who are proven worthy of joining are well taken care of.”

“And how am I going toprove myself worthy?” I questioned, roughly pulling my mask off and gesturing to the staircase with it. “A mask? It’s not fucking Halloween, Nick.” I couldn’t help but scoff at the ridiculousness of it all. Nick was fucking around with me, I was sure of it, and I bet he had half the blokes from the show here waiting for me like an episode of Punk’d.

“Look, I’m going to break this down for you, short and sweet, and then we are going down there…” Nick sighed long, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “To join, you must first be employed by one of the three male revue shows—which you already are. Secondly, you must pass three tests as part of your initiation to prove your loyalty and contribution to the MUR.”

“MUR?” I arched a brow in question and crossed my arms over my chest, still holding on to my mask.

“Men Under Revue. That’s what we are called, and soon you will be too.” He answered, “The tests aren’t easy, and most, if not all, require blood to be spilled, but after three months of knowing you, I believe you can handle it.”

“And if I can’t?” I added, not wanting to know the answer.

“We’re not going to talk about that because you will. Now put your mask back on, and let’s go before you lose your chance; you get one shot, that’s it.” He gestured his chin to my mask before pulling his back down over his face.Fuck it, here goes nothing.

When we entered thelower level of the mansion, I followed Nick down a dark hall and around a corner until we reached a vast open space the size of a grand ballroom.

Four men stood at the far end of the room, just in front of what appeared to be a stage. Each wore a mask similar to Nick’s and mine, except one set was green and the other blue.

“The other two revues. We initiate together.” Nick explained as he leaned towards me and mumbled under his breath loud enough so that only I could hear him.

I gave him a silent nod of understanding as we approached the others, lining up beside them with Nick standing behind me. Without warning, the three of us in the front were dropped to our knees.

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