The Blue Room: Vol. 1 Page 2

  Now, Roni. That was a different story. Roni wasn't just about the sex to me. It's true, when I first met her, I didn't know she was my father's latest slam piece. But I'll be honest with you for a second. It wouldn't have made a grain of sand's worth of difference if I had. In fact, once I found out, it made it all the sweeter to have her squealing and moaning in my bed. It meant I had something that my father didn't. I had something he couldn't have. After years of underestimating me, of telling me I was worthless, of telling me I'd never measure up, my father had finally lost the one thing to me he thought he could never lose: a woman's touch. Screwing Roni was like sticking it to my father, once and for all.

  At least, it was. Until I found out about her and Danny. Found out she had a thing for Blues men: that she wanted to create a matched set. Get all three of us inside her. And maybe I wouldn't have minded so much if I hadn't cottoned on that she loved the bastard. Really loved him, in as sick and twisted a way as a girl like Roni was capable of loving. And that's what got me. Right between the ribs – slice-like. That even Roni, who couldn't love anyone, could love him. More than me.

  I'm not going to say I hated my brother. I loved him – in my way. I just wish he could fall on his stupid face once in a while, you know? And you wouldn't feel any different – if you were me. In fact, you'd feel exactly the bloody same.

  “I'm trying,” I say to him. “Believe me.” Like I had to convince him not to fire me. Like I had to grovel. “I'm bringing in new acts all the time. Look at that girl up there. Singer, stripper, whatever. She's riling up all the patrons. She's just what we need, here. Someone fresh. Someone virginal.”

  Danny looks disgusted. Still had that self-righteous little smirk on his face. “Honestly, I don't know why we still have this place. Just because it's dear old dad's pet project...”

  “Pet project?” Danny didn't understand a thing.

  “It's twisted, Terrence.”

  “It may be twisted, but it's brilliant. A private club so elite its membership registrar might as well be the Who's Who of the world. Who knew so many of the world's most influential people were also the kinkiest, the most depraved, the most...well, I guess maybe you'd assume so, wouldn't you?”

  “But just because we have to manage this place, Terrence...”

  “What?”

  “It doesn't mean we have to be like them! It's all fantasy here. But it's like a drug. You become addicted to it – but at the same time, Terrence, it'll pull you in so deep. You can't afford to get addicted to it. The sex, the smell, the feeling – it will take over everything you do. Especially since you're around it all the time. I'm worried about you, Terrence. The patrons, they only come here once in a while, to play-act at living this life. But you, Terrence. You're in it. You're in it bad and you're in it deep. And whatever sick, disgusting fantasy you're acting out with Roni – you need to quit it, now.”

  “Why?”

  Danny pretends not to hear me. “And that girl on stage --”

  “Yeah, the virgin.” I like the sound of the words on my tongue.

  “Virgin or not, Terrence, you'd better take care of her. Make sure she doesn't get abused by some of the rougher patrons around here. She's not a pro – she doesn't know what she's doing. She doesn't even know what kind of a place this is, does she?”

  “It's Hollywood. Every kind of place is this kind of place.”

  “You don't know that.”

  “I bet she does.”

  “They'll eat her alive, Terrence. And this place – it'll eat you alive, too.”

  I can't believe my ears. I remember back when Danny was worse than me, when he slept with more girls, took more drugs, did more everything. I remember when he was so deep in the hole it was me who had to drive him home, me who had to pour cold water on his face, give the girls some hundreds in an unmarked brown envelope and send them home with a promise on their lips never to tell another living soul what they had seen him do.

  “I just want to go home.” Danny's brow is covered in sweat. “I just want to get back home to my girlfriend, sit on the couch, watch some TV, relax. Be with the woman I love. Get away from this place, from this sickening atmosphere. I don't want any part of this.” He sighs so heavily. “So everything we talked about. You clear?”

  “Good and clear.” My voice is clipped, a mockery of professionalism. The way I bet he thinks his sounds.

  “Now, I'm heading home.”

  “But...” I can't stop myself. “Don't you want to hear whom I've booked for next week's performance?”

  “Whatever it is,” Danny doesn't even stop to look at me. “It had better be good.”

  I can't resist a grin. Here it is. My ace in the hole. “Oh, it is. It definitely is. Even you would approve.”

  “Uh-huh...” Danny turns to go.

  “The Never Knights. Next weekend.”

  Danny's mouth opens wide with shock. I love how it looks. “How? What? Why?”

  “Ask her yourself.”

  That's all I say as I close the door in his face.

  Chapter 2

  Unfortunately, my victory doesn't last for particularly long. No sooner have I taken in the joyous sight of my brother's shocked face, his mouth agape, gaping like a goldfish that had been lifted into the air, then a knock sounds at the door.

  I figure it was Danny, desperate for information. I figured his plan was to humble himself if he had to, if it meant figuring out what Neve Knight was doing at the Blue Room. A perfect plan, if I do say so myself. Getting Danny's dime onstage for all our patrons. Having her shake those delectable hips of hers in front of all those men who think they can have her. Now, when I say Neve agreed, I'm being almost completely truthful. Neve agreed to a gig. A gig at a “burlesque club.” Girls all love burlesque these days. It's almost trendy. Didn't quite tell her the full extent of her duties, or how much she'd be expected to take off in the process. But she'd figure all that out in good time. And Neve's a swell girl, I reckon. A real star. The kind of girl who will do what it takes to get the audience growling. Even if it means throwing off her shirt, her bra, her underwear – but now I'm getting distracted. What I mean is, a girl like her – she's no prude. Loyal to Danny or not, she's got some spice in her. That much I can see, even from miles off. It was a real pleasure having her sign on the dotted line. The Never Knights: onstage at the Blue Room.

  Even Daddy would have been proud at my daring. I couldn't help but grin to myself, thinking all the while: now that's how you handle a girl.

  So when the knock sounds, I figure it's Danny. He's going to beg me to reconsider, to axe the gig, to nix Neve and all her Knights of the Round Table once and for all. He doesn't want to see the girl he loves shaking her money-maker in the faces of the world's greatest money-makers. He doesn't want her to get seduced by a fat wad of hundreds waved into her face by men who could blow their nose with that kind of money and not even blink one of their billion-dollar eyelashes.

  But it's not Danny at all. I mean, Danny's there, but he's skulking in a corner, looking annoyed. Like he doesn't want to see me again for at least a hundred years. But he has to, because Troy Baker, our head of security, is standing in the doorway, with the kind of frightened-rabbit expression on his face that men as big and strong and brawny as he is only get when faced with someone even more powerful. In this case, me.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” The man's always deferential. Not a good look on a man of his girth. “My apologies, Mr. Blue.”

  “Go on,” I say, as lightly and airily as I can manage it. “What's the matter, Troy?”

  “There's, uh,” Troy coughs and looks like he'd rather be anywhere else but here. “There's been an incident.”

  He flinches, and already I know the news isn't good. I'm not one to shoot the messenger, but my father was, and Troy doesn't yet know I'm a heck of a better man than my father ever could be.

  “The new girl, Staci.” Troy's eyes are on his shoes. “When she finished with her performance, just a couple minutes
ago, she was walking off to get cleaned up when one of our, ah, patrons came over to her. Apparently he wanted a little tete a tete in his hotel room. Ideally lasting till morning.”

  Danny rolls his eyes.

  “Come on?” I shrug. “What's the big deal? Happens all the time.”

  “The lady wasn't having it,” Troy tries to be as delicate as possible. “She told him she'd rather spend her time elsewhere.”

  A rock drops in my stomach. None of my girls ever tells a patron she'd rather spend her time anywhere else than in his bed.

  “He got upset?” I start thinking up damage control, concocting the numbers of girls I know would be happy to replace the skittish Staci in a heartbeat. Maybe two at once would assuage his hurt feelings...

  “Worse.” Troy's not having any fun at all. “He got persistent.”

  “Yeah?” I'm not liking the sound of this. I'm not liking the sound of this at all.

  “She kept on refusing.”

  “Good for her.” Danny's voice is sharp as steel. “Glad someone in this joint has got some principles.”

  “He got handsy.”

  “I'm not calling the cops, Troy...”

  “She got handsy.”

  Now I'm getting it. It dawns on me, and the feeling is sickening. “Oh, no, Troy. She didn't...”

  “Right in the balls, sir.”

  Instinctively, I wince and look down at my groin.

  “Oh, damn.”

  “It gets worse, sir.” Troy's staring at the door like it's a naked coed covered in strawberry ice cream.

  “Don't tell me.”

  “He fell back. Hit his head on the table. He's out cold.”

  “Shit.”

  “Serves him right,” Danny growls under his breath, but I ignore him.

  “We'd better go deal with this, then.” Danny and I follow Troy out to the main room of the club, and I find myself wondering about the effects of a concussion on short-term memory. If it's mild amnesia, I think, maybe he'll forget the number one rule of the Blue Room: that there are no rules, especially when it comes to the girls on stage.

  A crowd's already formed. I sighed a temporary sigh of relief for our no-cell-phones policy. At least I can be reasonably certain the paps aren't getting hold of this as we speak. The balding, wiry man with a furious red welt on his forehead is Angus Martin, one of the head honchos at Walton & Brothers, the biggest hedge fund on this or any other continent. Not the kind of man you like to piss off. I gulp.

  Danny looks at me, his eyebrows arched. “Your policy, brother. Your problem.”

  “It's gonna be okay!” I pretend like I'm cool with what's happening. Like it's all part of the plan. We get Troy to lift the man up. “He's going to the Empire Suite at the Blue Hotel.” I whisper in Troy's ear. “Call Brandi and Bunny. Tell them to wear their skimpiest satins and to be there when he wakes up, right in the middle of them. He'll think he hit his head on the headboard in a moment of, ah, ecstasy.”

  Troy nods and lifts up Angus, fireman-style.

  When we're alone, Danny grabs me by the shoulder, pushing me up against the wall. He's got that gravelly, growly Tom Waits-style voice he puts on when he's really, really angry. And for the first time, it hits me. Danny Blue isn't playing around.

  “That girl's probably sobbing her eyes out in the dressing room,” he hisses.

  “She'd better be.” I try and smooth my lapels. “After all, she's out of a job.”

  “How could you hire a girl like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like she doesn't know what she's getting into. A non-pro.”

  “Everyone's a pro if the price is right.” That's what my father always said. “And that's what the clientele like best. The virgins who go wild. Not pros.”

  “It's a different crowd, Terrence. You know that. She knows that. The girl can sing – but this isn't a place for singers. It's not a place for Never Knight, either. It's a different world at the Club than it is out there. If you mix them, someone's going to get hurt. And if it's Neve, then I swear, Terrence, I am going to come after you so hard...”

  I grit my teeth. How dare Danny be so self-righteous, after all the shit he used to pull? “That girl knew what she was getting into.” Didn't she? “She begged me to give her a chance to start here. That she could take care of herself. 'I want to make it as a star.' That's what she said.”

  Danny looks like he's about to heave into my face. “She looks barely legal, if you ask me. I hope to heaven you checked her ID.”

  “I did.”

  “Some sick bastards here would like it if she weren't even out of high school. But do you realize what trouble we could get in....”

  “Relax, bro. She's twenty-one. Older than your piece of jailbait...”

  “Don't...call...her...that.” Danny's eyes are practically bulging out of his skull. I love ribbing this guy, I swear. Making him mad is more fun than an amusement park in July. He deserves every ounce of irritation he gets, after all. Danny grew up a Blue, all of the perks, everything he wanted out of life handed to him on a shiny silver platter, spoon in the mouth and all. He needs someone to rub his nose in the dirt a little, from time to time. Keeps him sane. Keeps him good.

  “It's not the same.” Danny grimaces. “Neve's used to this world. She grew up in it. Being Keith Knight's daughter – she practically had vodka in her nursing bottle. She's used to fending off guys like these losers. But Staci – twenty-one or not, she's had a much more sheltered life.”

  I roll my eyes. “Growing up in Vegas, you mean?”

  “Not everywhere in Vegas is like the strip, Terrence.”

  “She's got an idea of what the club is about.”

  “As long as Angus doesn't sue...”

  “He won't.” I'm confident Bunny and Brandi will see to that.

  “And make sure the clientele know the rules. No means no. Even when you're a multibillionaire. And I refuse to have it any other way.”

  “Harsh.”

  “Revoke his membership if you have to. I'm not founding a business empire based on rape!”

  “The girls know what...”

  “No means no, Terrence.” Danny's so passionate it's almost terrifying. “Whether she's out on the street or working the Blue Room. Our girls have a choice. They always have a choice. You got that?” His look is menacing. “Got that?”

  He lets me up. My back is killing me.

  “Got it.”

  Danny Blue, in the right, as usual. Just my luck.

  “And that goes double for you. You can't sleep with any of the girls here. Even if they consent. You're in a position of power over them – you can't abuse that.”

  “Like I'd need to use my position of power to get some tail. I can get plenty of that on my own. And I'm not so inclined at the moment. Roni's keeping me busy.”

  “Just because you're a Blue doesn't mean you have to act like our father,” Danny scoffs. “You can keep it in your pants for a change.”

  “But fucking all and sundry is a family tradition.” I grin at him, but he isn't having it.

  “Not anymore.” Danny looks grim. “I'm the head of the Blues now.”

  Chapter 3

  Staci

  I'm in my dressing room, trying my best not to cry. It's not working. My tears are snaking through the glitter on my face, leaving ugly mascara trails of blue and purple all down my made-up cheeks.

  This, I think to myself. This is how stars die. For a second, it was like a dream. A fairytale. A Hollywood success story. Everything I ever wanted. I was on that stage, singing my heart out. The men in the audience – I recognized some of them. Big shot producers, directors, studio execs. The kind of guys who could make a girl's career.

  And I was so stupid. So bloody stupid. I thought I could get in on talent. That singing like a nightingale was the way to impress them, to make them take my name and number, to make them think of me when it came round to casting time. But I was a fool, through and through. I had faith, stupid,
naïve, blind faith, in the power of my voice.

  All anyone wants in Hollywood is the power of the tits.

  I felt anger swelling with my breast. The kind of rage it's tough to withstand at the best of times. But right now, I was livid. It felt like everything I'd ever wanted, everything I'd dreamed of – it had been so close. I smelled it. I tasted it. I breathed it all in. Fame. Fortune. Success. E: True Hollywood Story, right at the beginning. The moment where everything changes. That lucky break. I inhaled it like oxygen.

  And then there it was. Gone. Empty air. Shattered glass. The shards of broken dreams all around me.

  Maybe I should have gone with Angus Bolton. Maybe I should have done what he asked. It's only sex, right? Only flesh. What's flesh, transient, mortal, when you can have fame: which lasts forever? I'd have been getting the better end of the bargain, right? That's what I'm thinking, right now. That's what I'm thinking, with the tears streaming down my face, trying so hard to make sure nobody hears me cry.

  To make sure Terrence Blue doesn't hear me cry.

  He's the worst of all. He knew – this whole time, I feel sure. He knew what I'd be asked to do. Maybe he thought that I'd give in. That I'd succumb with the flashbulbs in my face and money waved at my tits. Maybe he thought I had desires I didn't even know I had until everyone's drunk and sweaty and the need is pouring off all our backs.

  He's wrong. He's wrong about me, I tell myself. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm not his kind of girl. I don't even like him. Sure – when I first met him, sitting across from him in that swivel armchair in his private office – I felt a certain something. Not even attraction. Just, like, a heating of the blood. A prickle down my spine. But Terrence Blue is a pro – no less than the girls he hires. He knows how to sell sex. It's positively written in his DNA. Being attracted to Terrence Blue is like admiring a Michelangelo sculpture. It's just what you do. It doesn't mean anything. Maybe some other girl would find him sexy, with his cocksure smile and that swivel of his hips like he could just thrust any girl against the wall at a moment's notice, and she'd moan with ecstasy because of how lucky she is to have him. Maybe that's how it works, for other girls. Not for me.