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So far, I think just knowing Justin from before has gone a long way to earn his trust and respect. The next step is meeting Decker, the legend of Marquis himself. Curiously, he’s yet to make an appearance, which just seems to add to the mystery surrounding the man.
After clocking in for my third shift just five days after first walking through the doors, I’ve been outside with Hawk and another guard for half an hour when Justin comes out, clapping Hawks back before grabbing my hand and shaking it. He doesn’t let go though, he holds on, staring me dead in the eye. “Good news, Lawrence. I talked to Decker and Hawk. You’re being promoted,” he announces.
I arch a brow, a mix of intrigued, surprised, and naturally suspicious. “Promoted to what?”
He lets me go and laughs. “No offense to Hawk and his crew, but your skill set is more valuable inside than out.”
My head swivels to the man standing beside him. Hawk just snorts. “Don’t look at me like that. He’s not wrong. You’re wasted on the door. You got over a decade on the job and that was dealing with far worse than a fake ID, entitled drunk fucks who think they’re doing me the favor, and all the other drunk, horny, and high club goers on the Strip.” He jerks his chin toward the club. “Get inside and stop looking like you've just jumped the queue ahead of me. I'm the one who told J to do it.”
“You suggested it, but you weren’t wrong.”
Hawk chuckles. “I’m never wrong, J.”
Justin rolls his eyes, his lips twitching. “Anyway, I need someone I can trust to be my eyes and ears when I'm not here, and that’s you.” His gaze scans my expression. “Don't make me force you, Lawrence. Just say thank fuck and let's go. Hawk won't hold it against you because you’re essentially the same, it’s just he’s my outside eyes and you're my inside ones. You're equal.”
I turn to Hawk, not wanting to make an enemy of him. “Only if you're OK with this.”
He bumps my shoulder with his. “Fuck, Aiden. Just get your ass inside. You're holding up the line.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a mock salute before arching a brow Justin’s way. “What the fuck are we still standing out here for?”
He rolls his eyes at me but does it while laughing. “My point exactly. See you, Hawk.”
“Later, J. Later, A.”
I turn and walk backward. “A?”
Hawk shrugs and holds two fingers out as he lifts his hand to his forehead. “Better than L.”
“Yeah, you win with that one,” I say, waving him off. We leave Hawk working the line while Justin and I head inside.
Once we’re in the elevator heading up to the control center, I take my chance. “You want to tell me what this is all about then?”
I’m not complaining. No longer being on the door or having to stand sentry next to the dancefloor helps give me access I didn’t have before. It’s also the perfect chance to get closer to Justin and eventually Decker. That’s not to say that it isn’t a little suspicious. Why would a club with so many cameras and such stringent security promote a new staff member after a few shifts?
Is it because they see potential or so that they can keep a close eye on me?
“Man, you really are a suspicious bastard,” he says, and for a moment I wonder if I spoke my thoughts out loud. I forge on regardless.
“I’ve been screwed over before, remember.”
His lips curl up on one side, his eyes glittering with approval. “Way I heard it, it was you doing the screwing.”
I rake my hands over my face and huff out a huge breath. “Screwing myself over? Yep. Doesn't mean I can't be bitter about it.”
“I’d be worse than bitter, man. But that’s all in the past now. Working here is your chance to start over and get your life back on track. It worked for me, I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for Decker.” I make another mental note to follow up on that lead at another time. “The only thing stopping you is you. All you've got to do is man up, take it by the balls, and wring them out for all you can get, yeah?”
I screw up my face at the analogy and make a show of covering my junk with my hands. “Not too keen on wringing balls that aren't my own.”
Justin grins like a loon. “That right there is why you're the right man for the job.”
“Cause the only nuts I like are my own?” I say with a disbelieving snort.
“Look, I don’t care whose junk you're touching--or not touching. Whatever floats your boat. But you’re a good fit because you're real. You've done wrong and been wronged, but you're still standing and pushing ahead. That is the kind of man Decker and I want working with us.”
We step out into the corridor, one side is taken up by the control room, the other is lined with art works, photographs, all edgy designer shit that doesn’t take my fancy. Right at the end are Justin and Decker’s offices.
“See, you keep mentioning the man but I’m really starting to think the elusive Decker James is a mirage,” I tease. “How would he even know who I am?”
