muse_shuffle | June Disc Two
Track 11. The great big city's a wonderous toy // just made for a girl and boy. (Ella Fitzgerald - 'Manhattan')
Remy sat casually at the bar of the otherwise deserted Red Room, an Ace of Hearts turning hypnotically between his fingers. A lazy faint smirk was on his lips as he looked at the man standing above him. Eddie, apparently. The owner of this ‘fine and quality establishment’.
The man squirmed a little under the gaze, the red eyes throwing him off, until he frowned and folded his arms across his chest to scrutinize Remy closer. “You want me to turn a whole night of patrons away from my club just so you can have a private show from Lola? She does those in the back room. The answer’s no, buddy. And if you think about hurting her, I’ll tear your dick off and club it with a hot poker. No one messes with my girls.”
“Whatever your usual profits are for a Wednesday night, I will match them,” Remy told him, the card making a soft flicking sound as it returned to its upright position in his fingers. “With tips.”
The creases across Eddie’s forehead just furrowed deeper. “What are you, some kind of demon? Am I going to find myself skinned, scalped and hanging off the Brooklyn Bridge by midnight?” he barked. “How can I be sure you’ll even cough up an amount like that, assuming I agree to take it?”
Remy quirked an eyebrow. His wallet was produced with ease and a pile of cash equalling no less than five thousand dollars was slid across the bar towards Eddie. The notes careened into an ashtray with such force, they landed in a messy pile with some flittering over the edge of the bar and landing at Eddie’s feet. “Call it a deposit. You’ll get the rest after my night with Lola proceeds uninterrupted by any of your staff members. And that includes CCTV footage you might feel you need to take. If she agrees to be in my sole presence for the night, you should trust her judgement, ami.”
A true businessman, Eddie didn’t hesitate in collecting and pocketing every last bill of the cash. “Why here?” he asked suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Gambit, homme. Here is where she feels comfortable. Here is where she shines. Why would it be anywhere else?” Remy took his cigarettes from his pocket and proceeded to light one up.
“And what is ‘it’,” Eddie bit out.
Remy tapped some ash out into the ashtray and wet his lips. “That is for Lola to tell, and Lola only.”
Eddie snorted. “You’re about as trustworthy as a fucking thief in a jewellery store. I should just fucking call the cops right now and be done with it.”
This amused Remy to no end, but outwardly all he offered with a quirk of a smile on the corner or his lips. “You should,” he agreed with a slight shrug. He stood up, exhaling smoke directly into Eddie’s face. “No deal, then? Tell Lola I said hello…” He turned and moved away from the bar to head for the door.
Eddie growled in frustration. “What am I supposed to tell the fucking patrons?”
Remy stopped at the door and took the cigarette from his lips between his fingers. “Pest control,” he offered with a smirk and left without another word.
- canmakeufeel referenced with permission
Word Count | 549
Remy sat casually at the bar of the otherwise deserted Red Room, an Ace of Hearts turning hypnotically between his fingers. A lazy faint smirk was on his lips as he looked at the man standing above him. Eddie, apparently. The owner of this ‘fine and quality establishment’.
The man squirmed a little under the gaze, the red eyes throwing him off, until he frowned and folded his arms across his chest to scrutinize Remy closer. “You want me to turn a whole night of patrons away from my club just so you can have a private show from Lola? She does those in the back room. The answer’s no, buddy. And if you think about hurting her, I’ll tear your dick off and club it with a hot poker. No one messes with my girls.”
“Whatever your usual profits are for a Wednesday night, I will match them,” Remy told him, the card making a soft flicking sound as it returned to its upright position in his fingers. “With tips.”
The creases across Eddie’s forehead just furrowed deeper. “What are you, some kind of demon? Am I going to find myself skinned, scalped and hanging off the Brooklyn Bridge by midnight?” he barked. “How can I be sure you’ll even cough up an amount like that, assuming I agree to take it?”
Remy quirked an eyebrow. His wallet was produced with ease and a pile of cash equalling no less than five thousand dollars was slid across the bar towards Eddie. The notes careened into an ashtray with such force, they landed in a messy pile with some flittering over the edge of the bar and landing at Eddie’s feet. “Call it a deposit. You’ll get the rest after my night with Lola proceeds uninterrupted by any of your staff members. And that includes CCTV footage you might feel you need to take. If she agrees to be in my sole presence for the night, you should trust her judgement, ami.”
A true businessman, Eddie didn’t hesitate in collecting and pocketing every last bill of the cash. “Why here?” he asked suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Gambit, homme. Here is where she feels comfortable. Here is where she shines. Why would it be anywhere else?” Remy took his cigarettes from his pocket and proceeded to light one up.
“And what is ‘it’,” Eddie bit out.
Remy tapped some ash out into the ashtray and wet his lips. “That is for Lola to tell, and Lola only.”
Eddie snorted. “You’re about as trustworthy as a fucking thief in a jewellery store. I should just fucking call the cops right now and be done with it.”
This amused Remy to no end, but outwardly all he offered with a quirk of a smile on the corner or his lips. “You should,” he agreed with a slight shrug. He stood up, exhaling smoke directly into Eddie’s face. “No deal, then? Tell Lola I said hello…” He turned and moved away from the bar to head for the door.
Eddie growled in frustration. “What am I supposed to tell the fucking patrons?”
Remy stopped at the door and took the cigarette from his lips between his fingers. “Pest control,” he offered with a smirk and left without another word.
- canmakeufeel referenced with permission
Word Count | 549