Chapter Eight

 

Maddox

 

Reece gave me the contact information for five potential new prospects who had been hanging around the Kings clubhouse the last few weeks, or even months. I knew just what I wanted to do to put them through their paces and see exactly what they were made of, and I let them all know to meet me at our strip club, Avalon, on Friday night for their “initiation.”

I had seen a couple of them ride by me toward the parking lot in the back of the club as I stood out front, but the new recruits waited until all five had gathered before coming around the building to face me. As they approached me by the door, all five of them cast repeated glances at the line of women standing behind a velvet rope, waiting to be admitted to the club.

“Do any of you gentlemen know why I asked you here tonight?” I ask them as they form a line in front of me.

They all glance at each other before casting their eyes down to their boots. One of them, a guy named Carl, sheepishly says, “No, sir.”

“Do you want to hazard a guess?”

After a moment of silence, Mike, a young guy who only recently started hanging around the club asks hopefully, “You want us to work security, see how we handle ourselves?”

I snort a laugh at that. “You saw the clientele waiting to get in tonight. Do you think those rowdy ladies are going to need a firm hand to keep them under control?” Some of the women in line hear my comment and respond with catcalls and whistles at the young men standing with me.

“They’re all women,” the ginger, not the smartest of our potential recruits, observes. “Are there a bunch of lesbians in town?”

The ladies who overhear that question burst into laughter and sporadic boos, before I reply, “I’m not aware of any unusual amounts of lesbians in town this evening. Dumbass. No, Mike was partially right. Tonight, we’re going to see how you handle yourselves. It’s ladies’ night here at Avalon, and you boys are going to be part of the show. Now, get your asses backstage and work with the performers to find some outfits. Don’t worry if you don’t like what you end up wearing, you won’t have it on for long.”

All five of them glance at each other and shuffle their feet as the women in line cheer. “Move your bitch asses!” I roar at the men, then step aside as they hustle into the building. “We’ll see you inside, ladies, in just a few moments. Make sure to take good care of my young recruits!” I call to them as I follow along.

Once I’m inside, I almost run into the back of Pete, a skinny young man who had been coming into the clubhouse since he was old enough to drink. “I told you to move your ass, Pete,” I growl at him.

“Dude, Maddox, I’m not sure about this…” he starts to protest.

“Then you’re not sure you want to be a fucking King!” I yell. “You have to be willing to do anything to be a brother in this club, and if that means waving your anorexic cock in a lady’s face, you rub it till it’s chubby and you shake that fucking thing like it’s your royal goddamn scepter! You understand me?”

Pete jerks straight up and damn near salutes me as he rushes to follow the rest of the boys to the back where the changing rooms are located. I can’t help grinning as I head to the bar, waving over the muscled and oiled boy toy in a bow tie tending the drinks tonight.

“What can I get you, sir?” he asks me politely.

“Pour me a Jack and Coke,” I reply, as I take a seat and watch the women begin filing into the tables scattered all around the stage.

“I love the way you handled that boy.” The bartender grins after he pours the drink for me and slides it to me. “My crew loves coming to work your club, you always bring us the cutest little recruits. They didn’t make you dance with us, did they? I’m sure I would remember you.”

I’m not taken aback at all by the man hitting on me, I just laugh and reply, “You’re right, I missed this experience when I was coming up in the club. I would have gladly done this compared to some of the other jobs they gave me.”

“Really?” he drawls. “Most of those boys are so embarrassed when they get out here, they whine and moan like it’s going to be the death of them. What other stuff did they make you do while you were trying out for the club that was so awful?”

“Prospecting,” I correct him automatically, “although tryouts is a good way of looking at it. I had to do all sorts of stuff, but the absolute worst was when I had to clean out the septic tank at the clubhouse. I had to do it with a shovel. Don’t think about that too hard,” I caution him. “No matter how bad you’re imagining, the reality was worse. So, so much worse.”

“Uh-uh, baby, no way.” The bartender waves me off. “You boys are crazy with that ‘do anything for the club’ business. Ain’t nobody going to catch me shoveling poop.”

“It was worth it,” I tell him as I raise my glass in a toast. The bartender is already moving away to take more orders as the seats around me quickly fill with women eagerly awaiting the show.

I’ve never been to a “male review” before and I have to admit the experience is eye-opening, even for me. I’ve been around the girls at the clubhouse when they were partying and feeling frisky, but these ladies tonight are cutting loose and going absolutely wild. I cheer right along with them as my recruits take the stage, mingled between the real performers. I even make my way up to the stage to make it rain a few times when my boys clumsily attempt to mimic some of the professional maneuvers. By the end of the night, they even seem to be enjoying themselves. Well, all except for Pete who, it turns out, I was being generous too when I called his dick anorexic. That poor boy’s unit is so turtled up when he gets down to his G-string that the women in the club yell for us to turn the heat up to see if we can coax the little guy out. They end up chasing him from the stage practically in tears, and I can’t help but add my laughter to theirs.

I’m having a great time when a pretty young redhead, her pale cheeks flushed with alcohol, elbows her way to the bar right by my stool. Instead of trying to order a drink, though, she lays a hand on my knee and forces my leg to the side, then wedges herself close to me. She’s so close, I can count the freckles on the upper slopes of her breasts, and smell the vodka she’s been drinking when she breathlessly says, “How much for a dance with you, baby?”

“I’m not working tonight, honey,” I reply politely, my good humor evaporating as a hard knot of guilt suddenly grips my stomach. “I’m just here to help make sure some of the younger talent doesn’t try to run away tonight. There are plenty of other boys who will play with you,” I assure her as I gently turn my stool and extract myself from her.

“Bah, you’re no fun,” she pouts before waving imperiously to summon the bartender. “You can always tell when one’s taken, I should have spotted it right off.”

“I’m not taken—” I start to protest, but quickly stifle myself. The guilt that is churning inside me begs to differ, and I realize…I miss Audrey. Desperately so, in a way I’ve never felt about anyone. I pick up my drink and finish it off in one swallow, then shake the glass as the bartender comes over to the redhead, signaling for a refill. I know I can’t feel this way about War’s sister, but I have to glumly admit as I pick up my fresh drink, that she’s taken root inside of me and being apart these last few days has only made this feeling, whatever it is, grow and swell inside of me.