The Blue Room: Vol. 1 (3 page)

          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.