The Blue Room: Vol. 1

Read The Blue Room: Vol. 1 Online

Authors: Kailin Gow

BOOK: The Blue Room: Vol. 1
12.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

 

 

The
Blue Room

The
Blue Room

VOL.
1

 

 

Kailin
Gow

 

The Blue Room (The Blue Room Vol I)

Published
by Kailin Gow Books

Copyright
© 2014 Kailin Gow

 

All Rights
Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or
by any means, graphic, electronic, or  mechanical, including photocopying,
recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without
the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For
information, please contact:

Kailingowbooks(at)aol(dot)com.

First
Edition.

Printed
in the United States of America.

 

The Blue Room

 

When Danny Blue of the Never Knights
inherited his playboy billionaire father's businesses and legacy, he didn't
realized his father's pet project was the Blue Room, the most elite and secret
club in the highest circle. He was happy to let his half-brother Terrence Blue
run the club, but with Terrence's womanizing ways and carefree attitude when it
came to everything, he wasn't sure if that was a good idea.
Terrence Blue wasn't sure that was a good idea as well because it would cramp
his style as a former patron of the club, but when he spotted virginal Staci
Atussi starting at The Blue Room, he had a change of heart. Not only was Staci
Atussi a knockout without knowing it, but she was the challenge he had been
craving.
For Staci Atussi, working at The Blue Room was her solution to a desperate
situation, but as she became integrated into the world of The Blue Room and the
mysteries surrounding its patrons and the sexy Blues, she wondered if she had
traded in her desperation for something far more sinister.
The Blue Room is a New Adult Contemporary Suspense Series intended for readers
age 18 and Up.

DEDICATION

 

To My Readers, Betas, and Kailin Krusaders, Thank
You for All Your Love, Support, and Encouragement. You are truly one of the
most important reasons why I’m blessed beyond measure.

 

To God, Thank You for providing me the strength,
courage, creativity and sight to follow my calling. The glory is yours.

 

 

 

 

Prologue

 

Terrence
Blue

 

         
S
ome people, they're happy where they are, with what they
have. Some people are happy with the little things in life – the feeling of
sunshine on their faces, the sound of a baby's laugh, the taste of
fresh-squeezed orange juice on their lips. They're happy with the music from
the ice-cream truck down the street, with the sweet-looking girl who grew up
next door and who doesn't ask too much, with the smell of fresh flowers growing
on the edge of a cul-de-sac.

          Not me.

          See, there are things I
don't go in for. And mediocrity is one of them. The way I see it, anybody who
can get close enough to the best – close enough, I mean, to see it, smell it,
taste it, almost bite it – and who doesn't is a sucker, through and through.
Don't give me any of that BS about “mindfulness”, about “being happy with what you
have.” I wouldn't buy it. The things I spend my money on are the things you
couldn't even dream of affording. I spend my money on the best. The best women,
the best booze, the best drugs. The best sounds. And there isn't a single
person who's known me for longer than twenty minutes that's in any doubt of
that.

          So don't you think that
anything less will satisfy me.

          My name is Terrence Blue,
and everybody knows I'm a hard man to please. I've poured thousand-dollar
magnums of champagne down the drain. I've flushed fistfuls of cocaine down the
toilet. I've thrown supermodels out of my bed because I don't like the color of
their bras.

          And I can afford to. So why
shouldn't I?

          Now, I'm a businessman,
first and foremost. I'm no fool. I know that the money that comes in as a
result of my reputation as a hard man to please more than makes up for the
money I waste. It’s a funny thing about this business, isn't it? The more money
you burn, the more people keep throwing at you. I'm a magician. I make money
disappear – then reappear. But everything's an illusion here in LA. Living out
in La La land, you learn pretty quickly – or not at all. People want the
illusion. They want to think they're in a night club like the Blue Room because
they're better than all those other identical wannabes lining up outside the
door. They wanna believe they're special. And with me, Terrence Blue, they feel
special. And once you give them that feeling, they'll do anything to keep it
going. You think coke is bad? Try that feeling. There's no more glorious, more
addictive substance on earth.

          That's all you need to know
about me.

          So here we are. Terrence
Blue's Blue Room – equal parts Studio 54 and
Eyes Wide Shut.
A burlesque
club where you can do more than look, if you know what I mean. My pride and
joy. Where the girls can sing – but you'd be mesmerized even if you weren't
looking at their voices.

          Like this one girl. The
girl singing now. The light's dark midnight blue on her face, but it only
brings out that milky figure – her porcelain skin, that platinum blonde hair
with little fingers waves in it like Jean Harlow would have worn, there in a
bikini bottom and bra encrusted with gems – gems from my private collection,
I'll have you known – sapphires and rubies. And rubies at her lips, too – top
shel makeup, studded with metallic dust, making those lips so bright and
kissable you wouldn't mind stopping the song if it only meant you could pull
that mouth onto yours. Her lashes so long – like they were trying to keep you
away, like she had secrets to hide, that one.

          I knew her type. I go
through dozens like her every day. Identical, like drones, robots, clones.
Fresh from Kansas or Iowa or Idaho or wherever – big in church choir, dreaming
of being a star, willing to do whatever it takes, scared of what that means.
Lucky for her, though, she could sing. Staci Atuzzi had a voice that could
knock your socks onto your hands, and she wasn't bad in a bikini either. Though
she didn't want me mistaking her for one of
those
dancers, oh no, she
was clear on that point. A prim little blush, pursed lips,
I'm not that kind
of girl,
all of that. The way she blushed when she heard what patrons of
the club regularly shelled out the big bucks to do with performers, you'd think
she was a virgin or something.

          Maybe she was. You never
know. Stranger things have happened in La La lands. But I can't say it's every
day you get a virgin trying to claw her way to the top of the greasy pole at
the Blue Room. I could have thrown her out, then and there. It's not good for
business if the talent gets a reputation for being fresh with the high-rollers.
People don't just come to The Blue Room to listen to a girl sing, after all.
But I liked her. Something about her made me want to give her a second chance.
Maybe she'd change her mind. I've been known to be convincing enough.

          Not that I know too many
virgins to convince. Let alone hot ones. The only one I could think of was Neve
Knight, that hot little number who kept my brother wrapped around her finger.
Either that, or Danny was keeping his success with her close to the chest. I
figured the latter. The girl was hot, but from what I knew of my half-brother's
reputation, he wouldn't be giving her a promise ring if he wasn't getting
something. What a waste, I figured. A girl like that – with an emo brooder like
my brother. I would have shown her a much better time. If she'd met me first –
but them's the breaks, in La la land. It's all about who you know, and when.
It's all about luck. And when it comes to chance, first one in always wins.
Early bird and all that.

          Besides, she was a nice
kid, and I – many things that I am – am not. I go through women like breath
mints. My idea of a long-term relationship is a weekend in Vegas.

          But looking at Staci shake
her hips, I start to wonder if maybe the whole virgin thing was just an act. As
she stars unclasping her bra, letting those full and delicious breasts as loose
as nature intended, I start to wonder if she's done this before. She knows what
she's doing, that one. She knows what she's making us want – and she's making
us believe that she wants it too. A real magic act. LA at its finest. She's
moving across the stage all assured-like, like she knows exactly what's going
on in every pair of trousers in the room.

          But she's got another thing
coming if she thinks she's got power over us. The kind of guys who I let into
my club are the kind of guys used to getting what they want. They got in here,
didn't they? And if one of them put down the right amount of cash, even the
blushing Staci might find herself in one of those luxurious pleasure suites for
the night, and then no doubt she could kiss her virginity goodbye.

          Her breasts free, Staci
starts wriggling out of her bottoms. I can see the contour of her hips. I can
smell the desire in the room. The fierce wolf hunger. We're all feeling it.

          Then, just as those
delectable panties fall to the floor, something blocks my view.

          “Danny!”

          My half-brother, his chest
so broad I can't see an inch of female flesh, is standing in front of me.

          His finger is in my chest.

          “Your office. Now.”

          Now, a man like me – we
don't like to be rushed. We take our sweet time. But I don't mind saying in
this case that – fully of my own free will, you understand – we went straight
to Danny's office. You may have heard that Danny grabbed me by the shirt and
dragged me there. I can't say. Had a bit to drink, after all.

          “What do you want, big
brother?” I almost spat in his face. “I was at the best part!”

          “What were you thinking?
What was going through your mind?”

          “Well, just now I was
thinking that those were the nicest pair of...”

          “I mean when you slept with
her?”

          Now, as I've told you, I'm
not exactly a one-woman guy.
Her
, on any given week, could refer to
between five and ten lovely ladies.

          “You're gonna have to be
more specific, bro.”

          “You gave her an alibi.”
Danny wasn't kidding around. He was the kind of mad where cartoon smoke is a
couple seconds away from blowing out your ears. “We can't prosecute her because
of your alibi, and now she's gonna get away with it. Attempted murder.”

          I'm sure I could have
listened to him, if I wanted to, but I'd had a bit to drink, and there was a
gorgeous naked girl prancing around on the stage of the Blue Room, so I can't
say I was paying a lot of attention.

          “Attempted murder? What,
man? I'm gone...
          “Attempted murder on Never Knight.”

          Now, I'm a lot of things,
and I forget a
lot
of crazy nights, but I'm pretty sure that murder's
not on my list of after-midnight vices.

          “Bro, I would never. A
walking bombshell like that – I would never do humanity the injustice of
depriving her of one waking moment in our company.”

          “You realize you're talking
about my soon-to-be fiancee?” I'm sure a lot of people think Danny Blue is
pretty imposing when he growls, but that's the thing about being someone's
brother. You can't take them seriously when you've seen them soil their onesies
after watching
Barney
that one time. “Anyway, your depravity, your lack
of morals....to go so far as sleeping with...”

          “Hey, I didn't sleep with
Neve!” I had to admit it. It wasn't for lack of trying, but the girl really
loved her boyfriend. And while I had to make a good show of wanting her –
didn't want to offend her, after all – I respected that.

Other books

Leaving Las Vegas by John O'Brien
The Ghost of Christmas Never by Linda V. Palmer
Our Divided Political Heart by E. J. Dionne Jr.
Dark and Bloody Ground by Darcy O'Brien
Seize the Day by Curtis Bunn
Uncovered by Silva, Amy