Page 30 of The Gentleness of Rage

“I’ve also had some ideas. Apache is going to create a space here,” Cayla explained, pointing to the map. “And make this a party room. It’ll have its own bar and waitresses, and a serving hatch will be run to it. The club could hold stag, birthday, and other parties. And if not in use, it’s somewhere the girls can practise new routines.”

“Security?”

“Cameras and two on the door when the party is happening,” Cayla replied.

“You’ve got some great ideas. We need to start putting out ads for recruitment. We’ve got vacancies,” Slate replied.

“That’s on my to-do list. Slate, we need to advertise for dancers, waitresses, bar staff, chefs, and cleaning people. I’ve also had an idea to run past you. Can we hold a ladies’ night once a week? Say on a Thursday. Hire some male strippers and make it purely for girls only. I think we’ll pull in a lot of customers,” Cayla said.

“Washington’s clubs typically feature separate areas for men and women. I prefer a different approach, and your idea is excellent. Go for it.”

“Great. Now we’re up to date,” Cayla stated. “Yes, that needs to go too!” she called out as a workman looked at the ugly ornate mirrors stuck to the walls.

“Thanks,” Slate replied as she bustled off. He was totally amused. Slate watched for half an hour as they ripped the stage out and winced as he saw how rotten the wood was. It was damn lucky that nobody had got hurt.

“Oh, Cayla!” he called, suddenly remembering something as Cayla hurried over. “Did you get the names of ex-dancers who were abused here?”

“Yes. I have a list of every girl that passed through those doors, even if for one evening. Considering shit has been occurring for two years since Royce took over, the turnover isn’t as high as I expected. But there’re some concerns. Some girls lasted one night and left. Some managed a week. And others just vanished. I have their names and addresses. Like some sort of fuckin’ idiot, Royce kept everything.”

“Rage is going to chase them up. Get me the list, and the money Rage found will be divided between those who were raped. We’ve also sent six of dancers to rehab. The doctor confirmed that they’d been drugged against their will. The six from the night we raided this shithole. We’re hoping because they were forced to take drugs, they’ll kick it easier,” Slate said.

“That’s good to know. There was some concern that they vanished. I can tell the others now,” Cayla responded.

“Wait, they signed contracts even though they thought we’d disappeared some of the women?” Slate asked, confused.

“Yeah. Slate, you offered the basic pay and health care. They’d have sucked all of Rage’s cocks for that little sign of respect. None assumed you’d harmed the girls, but there was concern. Now I can put their mind at ease,” Cayla said, and Slate nodded.

“Shit,” Slate muttered. What had Royce and his cronies made these women suffer? Slate’s mind flicked to Royce, and he wished he was still here so he could burn him alive all over again!

Jaelynn

Tiredly, I finished putting the paperwork into piles and blew a strand of hair out of my eyes. How Ezra and Slate had ever managed to get bills paid, I had no idea. This was my second day, and I’d been emptying boxes, filing cabinets, and lord knows what else. Every piece of paper found its place within a pile.

Ezra was due back soon, and I’d put the kettle on to wait for him. However, I needed some office supplies. Like pens, for instance!

The door banged open, and I sighed. Luckily, I’d weighted every pile down with something.

“Oops, sorry!” Ezra said, walking in.

“Coffee is there. Donottouch any of these piles!” I ordered as Ezra started to move one.

Ezra flinched, replaced, and patted it.

“Ezra, I need some office supplies. Pens, pencils, erasers, drawing pins, paperclips, paperweights…”

“Here,” Ezra threw me a card, and I caught it. “Get what you need.”

“Just like that? Is this a business card?”

“Yeah, and you ain’t likely to steal from me, babe. If you want, go shopping now,” Ezra said with a shrug.

“Er, I need files, too. And poly-pockets and labels, it will be expensive,” I replied.

“Jaelynn, you got a one-k budget. Go nuts. Hey, phone Silvie at Made by Rage. She has all colourful stuff. Ask her where she bought it from. But call her today because she is off from tomorrow. She’s going in for an operation…” Ezra trailed off, looking worried.

“Silvie?” Who the hell was Silvie?

“She’s Apache’s old lady. Silvie’s got a condition called SPD, Symphysis pubis dysfunction. Shit, we can spell that fucker in our sleep. Basically, Silvie’s pelvis is fucked, and it causes heaps of pain. She’s having surgery for permanent correction. We’re hoping it will save Silvie a lot of grief and agony,” Ezra explained.

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