Page 8 of The Bloke

Two days had passed since my last test, and I could see the finish line ahead of me—even taste the sweet reward that came with it—wealth, power, control. I knew I’d have more questions for Nick and Dustin after the ceremony, but getting there was my primary objective.

The blokes and I were sitting in the lounge backstage from the showroom, all in our opening number outfit: a black tank top, blue jeans, our signature black leather belt with the words Heaven Down Under stamped on the silver buckle, and white sneakers—curtain call was in thirty minutes. The ten of us relaxed before the show while Jaxon was out front greeting the guests and taking photos as they filtered in and got seated.

“Nick’s been praising you a lot these past two weeks.” Darren sat beside me on one of the couches as I downed the rest of my Celcius energy drink. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed his right hand and noticed the black obsidian ring he wore. Glancing around the room, I realized they were all members of the MUR.That explains a lot.

“Yeah, what about?” Playing dumb, I shrugged and stretched an arm out along the back of the couch. Based on the fact that everyone here was a member, I knew that was what he was referring to.

“You know exactly what, but fair enough.” He spun his ring around his finger. “All I’ll say is that he’s impressed with you; honestly, all of us are. We didn’t think you had it in you.” Darren admitted with a chuckle. “Country boy, raised on a farm his whole life and just shows up here out of the blue? You continue to surprise us, mate.” He blew a low whistle, lounging back onto the couch.

As I gestured to the opposite side of the room where Nick was talking with Benji and Tate, I rolled my tongue along the front of my teeth.

“Tell me, do all revue dancers enter initiation?” I already knew I wasn’t special, but I had been curious if protégés were chosen or if everyone got a shot.

Nick had been busy since the night at Solitude, and I haven’t been able to ask him for confirmation.

“So, I’m guessing you are well aware by now that our friend Nick over there is your sponsor, correct?” Darren asked, pointing his finger toward Nick, and I nodded in response.

I knew that from the mansion, but I didn’t know what it specifically meant and entailed for him. “Well… while being a dancer in any of the revues qualifies you for membership, it requires a sponsor to enter the initiation process—someone to vouch for your worth to the MUR.”

“And Nick believed that I was worth something?” My brows raised at the thought that someone here actually gave two shits about me.

“Yeah. Surprised all of us when he said he was going to sponsor you. If I’m being honest, I sure as fuck wasn’t.” Darren laughed, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Thanks…” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes and crushing my empty Celcius can before tossing it on the coffee table.

“Didn’t he tell you what happens if a sponsor’s protégé fails?” Darren leaned towards me with a frown of concern. I didn’t answer him, knowing he was about to tell me the answer regardless. “Not everyone gets sponsored because of the risk that comes with it. You bring someone in from the outside; they know what we do from day one. If they can’t handle or complete any of their tests, the sponsor has to take matters into their own hands. They are responsible for their selected protégé until death.”

Darren sat back with a sigh, and I pressed my lips into a hard line, glancing back over at Nick.

If I couldn’t finish my last test, Nick would be required to kill me. Great. I wasn’t nervous before regarding my initiation, but now? Fuck me.

After finishing our post-show rehearsal, I returned to my locker, pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. I planned on going straight home and getting some much-needed sleep before physical training in the morning. Jaxon had us scheduled for a bright and early session starting at five.

While lacing up my sneakers, I heard my phone vibrate against the locker's metal shelf, so I stood to pick it up.Nicklit up the screen, and I unlocked it to see a new text message from him.

Nick: Ready for your last test? It’s gonna be a fun one.

Nick: Meet me Strip side in fifteen.

Me: OMW

Pocketing my phone, I shut my locker door and headed out of the showroom to meet up with Nick. How could he believe that any of these tests were fun? I mean, when you spend your life doing it, then I guess, yeah, it becomes a game more than a job, but fuck.

I may be overthinking all of this, and I need to let go and embrace the new life that being a member of the Men Under Revue will create for me. If I pass this final test, I will officially become one of them, making jobs like this my new normal no matter what.

Stopping just outside the double doors leading to the strip from Neon Palms Resort and Casino. A whistle caught my attention, and I looked over to where I saw Nick waiting for me, standing with his arms crossed over his chest at the other end of the long pedestrian bridge. I picked up the pace and switched to a jog to catch up with him.

“Nice choice of outfit,” Nick smirked.

“I had every intention of going straight home tonight.” I huffed, running a hand through my hair and resting the other on my hip.

“As long as it’s easy to clean. We’re partnering up for this next one.” There was a layer of excitement to his tone.

Why am I not surprised that he would be excited to participate in one of my tests? Then again, he did appear bored as fuck when I left the hotel room of the last one.

“Another hotel room?” I inquired, gesturing my chin down the long strip of casinos and hotels that lined Las Vegas Boulevard.

“Nah, not this time. We’re heading into the basement of Neon Palms for this one.”

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