Fear the Boss(9)By: Sam Crescent
Seeing Lydia’s point, she pocketed the card. Part of her was overjoyed about his attention while the sane part of her knew it was a mistake. There was something off about Caleb, but she just didn’t know what.
On Friday night Caleb was sat in the VIP area drinking a strong scotch and looking over the club. From his vantage point he saw everything and everyone. He knew a select group of girls were seated in line with the dance floor so any man who wanted some action would see them instantly. A group of men were being watched with caution as they looked dangerous to him. He’d dealt with a lot of men carrying roofies for the girls. No woman was going home or being raped by a guy she didn’t want.
He had standards.
Henry threw himself down into the chair beside him. “I’m bored.”
“Go and find yourself some entertainment. I’ve got stuff to do.”
“You’re waiting for the blonde.”
Caleb glanced toward the door as another group entered the club. They were scantily clad women looking for action. He’d gotten the file on Donna Smith within twenty-four hours of asking for it. The reward he’d paid was over ten grand, but it was well worth the money. Every little detail, even her medical history, was down on paper for him to read. Tuesday he spent all day at his apartment reading through her file. He knew about the drunk driver who was serving time for killing her parents and about the foster parents, also dead, whom she’d lived with after the accident. She’d graduated from school at eighteen and was working within the month of their deaths. Her grades were good but not brilliant. She didn’t even apply for college.
She’d changed jobs five times before getting the job at Dreams. Her employers adored her. Donna was a hard worker, and she didn’t have any serious medical problems. She’d not been in the car when her parents were killed.
What he did know was the fact she wasn’t on any birth control pills. There was nothing exciting about her and she didn’t pose a threat to anyone, yet he couldn’t get her out of his head. She was there all the time.
“This is dangerous for us, your obsession.”
“I’ve never had an obsession, Henry. Stop worrying about it.”
“It’s a woman, Caleb. Fuck her already and move on. I know I will.” Henry stopped a waitress to order a beer.
“If you’re here to ruin my mood then please leave.” He sipped his drink and then stood. “I’m going to take a leak. Try not to scare anyone away.”
He walked toward the private bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Maybe he was losing his mind. There was nothing special about Donna Smith. The attraction was inside him, not her. She was a blonde, and he loved fucking blondes. Something told him she was different from all other women.
Women are whores, and you’ll do well to remember that.
His fighting mentor would scream that at them whenever a groupie was near them. Women were a bunch of distractions men had to deal with. They were only good for one thing and that was being a place to stick their dick.
“You’re thirty-five fucking years old. Get a fucking grip.”
She was twenty-three years old. Donna was twelve years his junior and way too innocent for this lifestyle. He made deals with crooks, criminals, drug dealers, and whores while Donna didn’t do anything beside work.
Running a hand down his face, he exited the bathroom and went back to sit in his chair.
“Are you done now?” Henry asked.
Shaking his glass for a refill, Caleb ignored his friend. Keeping his eye on the door, he waited for Donna to enter.
For the next thirty minutes she didn’t turn up. He had her address and would go and hassle her there if it wasn’t for the risk of the cops getting involved. Plenty of the police force was on his payroll, but he wasn’t going to let them know of his interest in Donna.
“I guess she’s not turning up, boss.” Henry stood. “I’m going to test out the goods next door.”
He watched Henry walk away then focused his attention on the club. Men and women were grinding together on the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blonde hair. Standing up, he stepped closer to the rail, and there she was, sitting at the bar. She must have arrived when he went to the bathroom. Buttoning up his shirt, he saw a man was trying to talk to her.