1.1.: A "Fair Exchange"
22 DAYS BEFORE THE SEXUAL TRANSACTION
Thursday, pay day, Adah mused as her gaze roved over the crowded underground club. The thought of getting her hand on the cash she was owed right now, would’ve made her a lot more ecstatic if only it would cover her entire debt. What she’d earned was enough to sustain her for the month so she was happy enough about it to entertain the idea of pouring herself a glass right in the middle of her bartending shift. Just so she could raise it to anyone who’d make eye contact with her in that moment. Though for the crime lords passing as tycoons of industry, she could tell that “pay day” wasn’t necessarily anything worth celebrating. Sure, they probably enjoyed the additional wads of cash dropped into their bank accounts and other hidden stashes, but whether or not this was the day when that would happen for them, didn’t seem to have any impact on how much of it they spent.
The room was packed to capacity. Every table, sofa, seat on the wall-long bench and bar stool was occupied. Anyone who’d decided to bring plus ones who weren’t regulars, had to either sit on their plus one’s lap or be content with staying on their feet. Though the space wasn’t always accommodating, it gave just the right vibes for its rather shady patrons to frequent it almost religiously. Past the pouring amount of dough and flashy-everything they possessed, they had this aura about them. Even the seemingly kind and approachable customers were donned with it.
They smelled like danger. The kind that only people who had grown up around it or had been through some form of trauma, could see coming a mile away. The type that was meant to draw normal folks in. Even when in the back of their mind, they knew better than to let themselves get sucked into that perilous orbit.
Most of the regulars who came to THE FRAY—44 in total—were men of over 30 years of age. Among those regulars, only eight of them were women. It’s not that it was harder for women specifically to gain access. The fact was, the club came about through the ambitions of old school powerful men who’d felt the need for a place where they could do their backroom dealings as they drank, ate and smoked to their heart’s content. Those women, along with the five youngsters who’d been able to make it as club members, had been able to realize this fit by proving themselves to be trusted and valued enough to represent the head of whichever organization they were a part of. However, said backroom dealings usually took place after closing hours. Anyone there during opening hours used the place to foster the bonds and relationships they sought to take advantage of in the world outside these walls.
The rules of THE FRAY were quite simple.
One, consume everything at your disposal.
Two, as THE FRAY is to be respected as neutral grounds, do not resort to violence of the physical form. Those who break this rule will be dealt with accordingly. This rule meant that they could threaten each other all they wanted, but said threats could only be executed outside the black painted walls of the club.
Three, every club member has the right to bring a single plus one. If they plan on bringing that plus one more than once, then she or he ought to pay the fee of regular club members regardless of whether or not they gain excusive membership.
Four, THE FRAY ’s workers, along with the female and male escorts present, are not to be abused or taken against their will. If such an incident takes place, rather than the law interfering, THE FRAY will be taking matters into their own hands.
The culprit will wish they hadn’t.
While she concocted the club’s new signature cocktail, Adah wondered if the new video she’d posted on her vlog this morning had been well-received by her viewers. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t see or hear him until he touched her, prompting her to look up and meet his glare. Ervin Medina. A 34—38, now—year old European of Turkish and Latin descent with bronze skin barely tempered by time. Though he’d neatly combed back his thick dark hair, his purple dress shirt wrinkled at just the right places to show he’d been through a hard day of work. He’d most likely discarded both his suit and tie some time during the day—something she remembered him doing back when they had an actual relationship—so he could roll the sleeves over his thick forearms.
She knew why he’d come; she’d made it happen. Knocked on a door where she shouldn’t have knocked, pressed buttons she shouldn’t have pressed and pursued things she should’ve let go of. All of it because her greatest flaw lied in just how selfishly greedy she could be. She’d wanted too much and now he was here.
If his missing lopsided grin was any indication, he was irritated with her.
Furious, she revised as she noticed the vein furiously pulsing by his neck. Adah could see the way anger wafted off him like smoke after a hot shower. However judging by the glint in his eye as he looked her up and down, his hot gaze absorbing all the ways in which she’d changed since they’d last met four years ago…
He wanted to fuck her.
Something told her that should she find herself alone in a room with him right now, there was a ninety percent chance that tomorrow’s TV headline would read Crime of Passion in Felonious Boys’ Club. Or something to that effect.
Adah managed a smile.
“Ervin,” she said his name so smoothly, he’d never believe her if she told him that his presence alone had her on the verge of having a heart attack.
“Meet me in The Room,” he ground out before he finally let go of her wrist.
She stayed there, staring after him for a good minute. Watching as he stalked away like the intense male Alpha he was.
