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Crash laughed. “Right. Go ahead…call the cops. It’ll take ‘em ten minutes to get here. That gives me nine minutes to beat your ass.”
Gorman wisely slid into the chair. Once he did, Crash headed to the back.
Cole leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You know who I am?”
Gorman shook his head.
“I’m your new best friend, Artie. Or I can be your worst nightmare. It’s up to you. But here’s the deal. There’s already a strip club in this town. Didn’t need another one. So, Artie, this is how things are gonna go for you. You want to keep doing business here, you’re gonna kick a grand to the club, first of every month.” Cole grinned. “Think of it as health insurance. You pay your premium every month, you stay nice and healthy. You don’t, you’re gonna have some broken bones. And that’s just the first visit. You decide right now, you don’t want to play, no hard feelings. I’ll let you close up shop, and take your tacky club so
mewhere else. But that’s a one-time offer, good for today only. We clear, Artie?”
Artie turned red. He glanced around the table, and then he gave Cole a curt nod.
“And just to show you I’m a reasonable man, I’ll give you forty-eight hours to come up with this month’s premium. How about that?”
Artie nodded and stood up.
“I say you could leave?” Cole asked in a deadly voice.
Artie sat back down.
Crash returned to the table. Cole’s gaze slid to him, and then returned to Artie. “I’ll be back in two days. Either you have your premium, or I better find this place boarded up when I come back.”
Artie stared at him.
“This would be the part where you nod your head.”
Artie nodded.
“Good. Now you can go.”
Crash sat down. The waitress brought their drinks and retreated with a nice tip.
“What’d the girl say?” Cole asked, sipping on his drink.
Crash picked up his glass. “He’s pretty touchy-feely. Groping’s pretty much a daily occurrence. Insists the girls give him private lap dances. They don’t play nice, they’re out of a job.”
“You set her straight?”
“Yeah. She seems to think his whole staff will jump ship. We can probably shut him down with loss of talent, alone. Still like to give ol’ Artie Asshole a personal beat-down, though.”
“Yeah,” Cole nodded in agreement, smiling at the nickname Crash had given the guy. “Me, too.” His cell rang. Pulling it out, he looked at the display. Angel. Smiling, he put it to his ear. “Hey, darlin’. What’s up?”
“Hi, honey. I’m on a test drive with a customer.”
Cole frowned. “You supposed to be making personal phone calls during a test drive?”
“No, but she’s a friend of yours.”
“Yeah? What friends do I have that can afford a Porsche?”
“It’s Shannon.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, tell her I said, hello.”
“You can tell her yourself. She wants to talk to you.”
Cole’s radar immediately went up. “She does?”
