Nick had started work at The Edge as soon as he turned 21, which was October 17 of last year. He’d been going to the place as a customer since he started going to the university. He knew he had to work, unfortunately, because he had his girlfriend and two-year-old baby to support. He worked the night shift and she worked the day shift at a small mom and pop restaurant that closed at 3. Most workdays days – including weekends – they had maybe four hours to share.
Although he wasn’t big and strapping like most of the other guys, he did have a purple belt in Tae Kwan Do. When he first started, the guys were kind of twitchy. They seemed to avoid him, some snapped at him. Then at one of their staff meetings Bear said, “The stuff isn’t gonna be around anymore so you’re gonna have to ride it out or quit.” His mentor Steve said that it was special free steroids. Nick now understood.
Nick had been brought up that his body was a Temple to God, so he chose not to defile it with drugs. He knew the other guys did it. That was their business. Some guys did quit, probably to go get more. Most stayed.
Nick read the sign when he punched out last night that there was going to be an entire staff meeting an hour before the club opened at nine. Yes, they’d get paid for at least one hour, no matter how long the meeting lasted. Since it was his normal work night, it wouldn’t make much of a difference to him.
When he got in, he saw there was a new calendar of assignments on the board. In Anilia’s beautiful red calligraphic handwriting, on different dates of the calendar, she wrote out some names and times. He recognized some of the names as Bitten.
The Bitten were VIP’s with special tattoos of vampire-like puncture wounds on their necks. They were allowed in and out of the club without a cover or a hand stamp. They could go to the DJ box, and they were allowed back into the club even after they started a fight, when normally they were banned for the night. They were on call bartenders, bouncers, peace keepers, and some even did favors for patrons in the club. Whether they were paid for it, he didn’t really want to know, and never got close enough to ask. Bouncers didn’t get involved with the Bitten, unless asked.
Also on the board was a hand-written note: “Contest: Anyone who can take down a new biker guy’s dick gets $5000. See Delilah.” He laughed out loud.
He walked into the back of the bar in his normal bouncer costume of a black hoodie with a Ministry logo emblazoned across it, black jeans, and steel-toed work boots. He fist-bumped his pal Ant, totally misnamed as he stood a good head and shoulders above him, and was as wide as the doorway. “Dude,” Nick said.
“Yah, dude.”
“What’s the meetin’ about?”
“We got a new owner.”
“No shit.” God, I can’t lose this job.
They all filed into the club proper. A section was usually earmarked for the meetings, just after the main entrance, along the booths and in the back. The bar was big enough so that someone could stand or sit on it to have the meeting. Most times Anilia would start, and each of the supervisors would take over. There were three: Bear, who oversaw the Bouncers; Kiko who managed the cleaning and maintenance crew; and Fatty, who took care of the bartending and now the DJ’s, music, lighting and other artistic elements – though that was supposedly temporary because the owner was expected back.
He was surprised, however, when he saw the place had a bunch of Bitten. Some were in street clothes, and others were in full regalia, probably planning on staying for the night. There was some chattering, mostly wondering what the meeting was for.
Then his attention was suddenly drawn to the side of the room, where a bald man in a black leather jacket was escorting Anilia into the room. The place quieted down and watched them, as if they were a king and queen entering court.
Nick couldn’t help but stare at the man. He was big, not as big as Bear, but there was something about him. He had a “Don’t Fuck With Me” aura, something his friend used to be able to do. It was just a sense of you didn’t want to get on this guy’s bad side.
The man turned and easily lifted her onto the bar, and she sat down with a smile, crossing her legs. He leaned on the bar next to her, looking around the room. Slowly his attention was drawn from him to her.
Anilia was dressed as impeccable as usual, this time from neck to toe in black leather that looked painted on her torso. Her arms were bare, and her legs were wrapped loosely with black leather straps. Her groin was barely covered by a strip of leather. Her heels were illegal weapons, they were that high and sharp.
“Hey, you’re the guy with your dick hangin’ out last night,” said Brandon, one of the Bitten, with a laugh.
The man launched himself off the bar, and that “Don’t Fuck With Me Aura” flared. People fell all over themselves to get out of his way. The man flicked out a switchblade. Brandon went white and tried to get away. The man moved in, grabbed Brandon by the shoulder, and held him down. He stuck the tip of the switchblade through Brandon’s nose ring and got into his face.
“Yeah, and if you don’t watch your fuckin’ mouth, I’ll stick that dick up your ass, got it, punk?”
Brandon gulped.
He withdrew the blade and let Brandon go, who fell backwards. The rest of the Bitten congregated around him, some gazing at the man as he walked away, some tittering around Brandon.
Nick also gulped when the man moved back. Anilia, however, looked at the man with a small smile. “This is Bruce Bombardier. He’ll be taking over as owner.”
There was murmuring. Anilia held up her hands. “Now, before you panic, this doesn’t mean anyone’s going to lose any jobs. It’ll be business as usual. We’re probably going to go back to extended hours once the University opens up next week. We’ll be getting a liquor license for hard liquor, which means we’re probably going to hire more bouncers.
“Some of you have noticed a new schedule. Some of the Bitten are new, so I’ll explain. If you’re assigned that for that day, that means you need to be here by the time specified on the calendar to help with the prep crew. We thought that was the fairest way to distribute it since they’re down a couple of people.”
There was some grumbling. Nick snorted – obviously the Bitten thought they were going to have an easy life walking around the club getting molested in dark corners.
Someone raised their hand, and Anilia picked him out of the crowd. “Does this mean Jacmes isn’t coming back?”
“It’s a possibility,” Anilia said sadly.
Bombardier said, “Anilia’s still the manager here. All th’ other supes are staying in place. An’ so’re the rest o’ ya if ya wanna stay. If Jacmes does come back, he c’n buy it back from me.”
The questioner looked sad. “I liked Jacmes.”
Anilia looked at Bombardier, then at the man. “Well. Next order of business…”
Nick zoned out off and on during the rest of the meeting. Finally, it ended, and he found himself going to the door with Ant. They stood outside for an hour, then switched off with someone else. “Coffee’s in the back room,” said Blake.
“Yeah, I need that.” Nick went into the back room. The coffee was in a huge urn, pre-made for the evening and kept hot. He poured one and doctored it up, then took a sip. He made a face and looked at the cup. “Kinda strong this time around,” he said.
Ant took a sip also. “Yeah. Willie’s usually better than this.”
“Willie makes shitty coffee, you know that.”
“Well, now the Bitten chicks get to make the evenin’ coffee.” He grinned. “Naked, I bet.”
“No way!” Nick laughed. He wouldnt’ mind watching some of them cleaning the place while naked.
After the break, they headed into the club proper. Nick glanced at the board on the time clock. On the handwritten note about $5000 for a biker’s dick, someone had crossed out, “biker guy” and wrote in “BOSS”.
Words: 1449
Inspiration: continuation of Bomber’s club
Music: I’m Your Boogie Man – KC and the Sunshine Band
Comment: Written in three hours. Straight.