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Nick sidestepped, faltered, regained his balance, then reached for the blonde VIP hostess on her way to the bar. He wrapped his arm around her waist jerking her closer. “Why don’t you get a bottle of tequila and we’ll do a shot together?”
“Vanessa’s working.” Samson leaned in and whispered something in the girl’s ear. She shot Nick a look, then scurried off to the bar.
Nick craned his neck as she weaved around the crowd. “When’d you hire her?”
“I told you before I hired some extra staff for tonight, but you were already three shots in.”
Nick tilted his head at the sarcastic edge to Samson’s voice, then threw him a glaring challenge. “Counting my drinks now?”
Vanessa picked up her drink order at the bar, then veered around the other side of the room to avoid them. “What the hell did you say to her?”
“I told her she had a good chance of making a thousand bucks tonight unless she gets fired for fooling around with one of the owners.” Samson blew out a breath and mumbled something too low to be heard over the throbbing music.
“Since when did you become such a hard-ass?”
“Just try to keep it together, yeah,” Samson warned.
Not tonight. Impossible.
Nick put his blood and sweat into making Club Wicked a hit. Wasn’t his fault the one-year anniversary fell on the same day the only woman he ever gave a damn about walked out of his life forever. So, on that date, October 19th, he acted like a pussy and indulged his self-pity.
Samson eyed Nick’s shot glass. “And slow down with the booze.”
Exactly what Nick had no intentions of doing. Booze helped him forget the woman who haunted his memories, the woman who got away. But that wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t gotten away, she’d been banished from his life because of a fucked up deal with a mob boss. A deal made ten years ago. A deal made out of desperation. A deal with a huge price tag and an even bigger secret attached to it.
Samson leaned into Nick’s ear. “Josh Turner wants you to?—”
“Josh Turner’s an asshole,” Nick said low enough to be covered by the pounding music, but loud enough for Samson to hear him.
“You might want to keep that to yourself since he’s booked five sky boxes and brought half of Hollywood with him.”
“He keeps calling me ‘pal.’ It’s fuckin’ obnoxious.” Nick waved his empty glass, lost his balance, and swayed against the tiny gold lights imbedded in the metal brass railing.
Samson clasped his shoulder and spun him around, giving them an aerial view of the club. “We got twenty thousand square feet of people dying to throw us their money, along with Tiesto spinning for seventy-five K in the DJ booth. The bouncers are making it harder than fuck to get in, and yet”—Samson waved his hand at the two tiers below them—“the place is packed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nick mumbled. “I get it.”
“Good, then let the staff do their job, stop acting like a punk, and put on your party face.” Samson pushed off the railing and pointed to Nick’s glass. “And stop drinking up all the profits.”
“Hey, guys.” Josh Turner ambled over all swagger and fake charm. “This place is great.”
Josh made a name for himself with his pretty-boy looks and a string of second-rate action/adventure flicks he felt entitled him to be obnoxious and condescending. The old joke about movie stars looking taller onscreen applied to Turner, and Nick guessed his muscles, and his receding hairline weren’t the only things digitally enhanced.
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Samson kept his voice cordial.
“My pal here is treating me real good.” He tugged Nick around the shoulders in a half-hug, and the smell of gin and sweet cologne made Nick’s stomach flip end over end. “Some nice pieces of ass up here, too.”
Samson flashed Nick a quick glance that saidkeep it together, and Nick sucked in a sharp breath.
“I bet you got them all over your dick,” Turner yelled in Nick’s direction. “Never realized nightclub owners had so much access to free pussy.”
“What else can we get you, Josh?” Samson kept his voice lazy and relaxed, but Nick saw the telltale clench of his jaw. “Another bottle of . . .”
“We’re good.” Turner leaned into Nick, all confidential. “Listen, pal, my next movie is about the mob, and I thought with your background, growing up on the streets, maybe you could help me with the lingo and life in the ‘hood’.” Josh paused for a buddy-buddy wink. “I’ve also heard all the New York stories and if even half of them are true you’d be my go-to guy on how it feels to whack somebody.”
Nick narrowed his eyes, and his lips twitched.
Samson moved to Josh’s other side. “Why don’t I show you around, give you a behind-the-scenes tour.”
