Page 2 of Dark Ink

“No, but Angel isn’t Megan Fox, is she?”

“Angel is a celebrity in her own right. An entertainer.” I stand up, hoping he’ll follow my lead. He doesn’t. He just turns his glistening face, following my movement.

He’s silent for a moment. “She’s upstairs, right? I’ll go and talk to her. Or can I book her here?”

“Book her for what, sir?” My smile falters. I don’t need all this. I need a shot of vodka and my bed.

“Do I have to spell it out? She’s a whore. What do you think?” He scowls.

My face turns serious. “We don’t use that word here. Please leave.”

“What? I’m here to give you my money and you want me to leave?” He puts his palms on the table as if he’s going to hold on to it. I roll my eyes. I’m not going to drag him out. He’ll walk out on his two feet.

“The private rooms are booked in advance and paid for. We have no free rooms and the bar is now closed, so we have nothing we can offer you at the moment. You can keep your money.”

“This is ridiculous. I want to speak to the manager.” He looks around the empty lounge area.

“Iam the manager,” I say with more satisfaction in my voice than I care to admit. “This is a club, not a brothel. We don’t offer what you’re looking for. It’s time for you to leave.”

I turn toward the little corridor leading to the main doors and swipe my arm in that direction.

“I’ll come again.” He stands up. He’s only a little taller than me, but his body is round and heavy. If he wants to, he can hurt me. Part of me wants him to do it, so I can hurt him back.

I peer past his shoulder. The two security guards are already walking our way. Do I need saving? Do I need assistance?

I can do this on my own. I won’t let this shitstain intimidate me.

“Don’t come again,” I say. “Nothing will have changed.”

“You’re acting all high and mighty for a whore. But you will—”

It takes me less than a second to press the knife that was strapped to my thigh to his pudgy, sweaty neck.

“Out,” I spit in his face. “Now.”

“What the fuck?” He tries to push my hand away, but I keep it flexed strong. As he wiggles, the blade nicks him and he yelps. “You can’t do this.”

“I just did.”

His eyes are wide, darting around like he’s looking for someone to save him. That’s right. I don’t need saving. He does.

I move the knife away and point to the door. “Don’t forget to never come back.”

“You stupid wh—”

“Do you want to get stabbed? Like, for real?” I shove him forward. “Leave while I’m still being nice.”

He mutters something under his breath and stomps out. Finally.

The two security dudes join me, their faces full of uncertainty.

“All in hand, boss?” one of them asks. I don’t know them very well. They both started yesterday and I’ve already forgotten everything Damien told me about them.

“Yes. What’s your name?”

“Dean.”

“Dean, from now on, if someone uses the word ‘whore’ in a derogatory way around here, throw them out,” I say with a sigh and head for the bar.

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