Book 2: Old Friends

Dante

I trudge into Piacere as the sun starts to dip low in the sky. Long day at the docks today. It needed to be done—some of my foremen get uppity if I don’t check in often enough—but fuck, I hate docks days. The regular LEDs cast my club in an unattractive light, destroying all the magic. I shamble past janitors cleaning up and dancers in sweats practicing routines on the poles. I’m actually looking forward to the paperwork awaiting me downstairs because it means I get to sit my ass down for a second.

On a whim, I pause at the bar and wait for Carla to walk over.

“Send a glass of scotch down to my office.” I think for a moment. “Maybe just send the decanter.”

My club manager nods sharply. “The decanter would be smart. You have a guest.”

“A guest?” My eyebrows shoot up. “Who the hell did you let into my office?”

“A woman who swore up and down she knew you.” Carla raises her hands defensively. “She had the phrase.”

I spin a