Her Predator

Alessandro

Alessandro

Drinking establishments and not-quite-legal businesses coexist in bars, with the former being the more profitable of the two. I had a lot of money invested in both of them. I was well-versed in the game...perhaps a little too well. People can be so predictable.

For example, the nervous salesman in front of me was sweating profusely and desperately attempting to conceal the fact that he was completely out of his depth. It was just after midday, which meant that Mr Rossi was concentrating on his other line of business because it was just about too early for alcoholic beverages at that point.

"If you would like to know the best powder you can find on the street, I can assure you that this is it," he said.

"Mr Rossi," I said as I raised my hand, interrupting this would-be business partner in the middle of his sentence. "Does my establishment have the appearance of a place that deals with substances that are found on the street?"

The salesman took a few steps back. His hair was greasy and lank, and it was dripping wet from perspiration. He could see the elaborate interior of Decadence - one of my exclusive clubs - through the glass wall of my private office, which he had entered.

Then I went on to say that I didn't expect any kind of response and therefore didn't wait for one.

"My clients - both the men and women who come to this establishment and those who seek my more specialised services - are people who appreciate the finer things in life. They do not have a drug problem. They come to me in search of pleasure, and I oblige. This, on the other hand, will not please them. It's not a good sign."

I wrinkled my nose as I held up a plastic sachet of white powder, expressing my displeasure with the product I had been presented with.

"However, Mr Costello, Sir -"

"Enough. We are done now." I made a hand motion to a man who was standing on the other side of the glass. Quentin, my bodyguard, walked through the door. Mr Rossi's shoulder was visibly shaken as he placed his muscular hand on Mr Rossi's shoulder.

"This meeting has come to an end. I'd like you to accompany my visitor outside."

"Please, Mr Costello, remember that this is a high-end product!"

"To be honest with you, Mr Rossi, I have no desire to do business with you. You are free to leave. And, please, tell me my next scheduled appointment is cancelled. I'm not in the mood to go see them right now."

Quentin nodded, allowing Mr Rossi to take a few steps back before escorting him out of the building.

Once I was alone again, I sighed with a sense of dread. Scaring would-be drug lords no longer piqued my interest the way they had when I first assumed responsibility for y father's business. Exercise of my authority, even over rats like Mr Rossi, had provided me with a greater rush than any illicit drug had provided me at the time. I used to take pleasure in the fact that people were afraid of me.

To tell the truth, I was bored. Having a sense of adventure in my life was something I was in desperate need of. I had considered broadening his business interests, but where should I begin?

**********

I fixed my gaze on the green pool table and sank to my knees to peer into the open hole.

"I'm not sure how you're going to pull that one off, Alessandro," James said as he leaned his cue stick against the table. James exuded confidence.

I smirked because I despised being defeated. I'd go around the table a million times until I figured out a way to come away with the victory. When you refuse to accept defeat, you are forced to win.

When I saw the perfect shot I knew I had to take, my pupils constricted. I walked back up to the table, slid the cue stick back and forth between my fingers twice, and then knocked the solid red ball into the far corner pocket, just barely missing Jame's striped ball in the process.

I got to my feet.

"You're next."

Then I stood there and watched as my friend walked up to the table and scratched his head, attempting to figure out what he was going to do. But that wasn't his problem at all. He gave away far too much information. Never allow anyone to see you sweat.

James grinned as he racked the balls back into the air. The back door was open, and Quentin, my head of security, was about to walk in. I rolled my eyes and turned to face him. He came over to us and shook our hands.

"Sir, Karl has requested to see you," Quentin explained.

"What did that bastard do now?" I inquired, taking a look around the table.

"He admitted that he was having difficulties collecting a debt from one of the regulars. His sister claims that she is your girlfriend."

"What?" I turned my attention to Quentin.

"Do you have a secret girlfriend?" James muttered under his breath as he fired the first shot, sending the balls scattering all over the place.

I looked at him with a scathing expression.

"No, I don't," I said as I turned to face Quentin once more. "Send in Karl."

This little girl had no idea who she was dealing with. I'd have to teach her a lesson about making false claims if she didn't stop.

**************

Lights blazed all around me, a riot of colours in every direction: red, blue, yellow, purple, pink, and white, with no pattern or reason other than to titillate. I stood there watching my blue suit glow a blue-violet under one of the lights, then noticed the effect spread throughout the entire room. In the centre of the room was a mirror ball. Wires were strung throughout the room to support the flashing lights, which were covered in threads. A stage with a pole and a girl could be found at either end of the club.

The music that filled the room was like a physical beast that was alive and moving through the audience. As it moved around me, over me, and through me as it alternated from one speaker to the next and the next, I could feel it thudding in my bones as soon as I walked into the room. Even without the heavily crowded dance floor, which was shared by strippers and customers alike, the atmosphere was vibrant.

The emotions that screamed in and out of this place were a cornucopia in and of themselves. Most of the time, I felt the happiness and lust that come with visiting such places. Even though I owned it, I rarely went to strip clubs. Unless, of course, it was for a professional meeting. You'd be surprised at how many business deals were hatched in bars and nightclubs.

I had to take a moment to take it all in from the other side of the threshold. I went to the bar and took a seat as soon as I could gather my thoughts. The light was embedded inside the hollowed glass that made up the entirety of the bar's construction. During the time that James was fixated on the dancer, I was looking around in search of the person I was looking for.