Devil In The Waters // Book 9 // Chapter 6

Whoops, sorry about the gap there. A bit of misunderstanding on my part led me to believe I had a simple dental surgery the other day, but nope, it was a doozy, ha ha. Put me out of commission for a bit. Anyway, back to DITW:

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The cartoonish silhouette of a ragged alley cat glowed in pale green on the back of Josh’s hand. It provided club security proof he was permitted in the Pink Champagne Room. Even though the sight of it caused him anxiety, he liked the way it looked below the cuff of his expensive suit.

On the second floor of the Alley Cat Hotel were the club’s VIP rooms, where small groups or single individuals could get a private show from some of the Alley Cat’s dancers. Full nude. Leather half moon bench seat that ran a crescent on one side of the velvet-wallpaper room, open carpeted floor space for a dancer, then a closed door opposite. Bottle service. Grey Goose tonight, served with ice and half cans of Canada Dry. Devlin sat on Josh’s right with his tie loosened, Rumble on Josh’s left, and Glenn on Rumble’s left.

The Alley Cat Hotel was the name of the gentleman’s club that took up most of the first floor and some of the second floor of the hundred-plus year-old hotel called the Sherwood Hotel. A hundred-plus years ago, when Toronto wasn’t much of a city at all, just a collection of close bustling rural villages connected with street cars and serviced by a busy port and railway, the prow-shaped, five-floor Sherwood Hotel was a well-heeled traveler’s mainstay. For the last thirty years it housed the Alley Cat, one of the city’s prominent—and expensive—strip clubs.

A blond Russian girl named Minka danced for them in high heels. Her red camisole top lay in Glenn’s lap and now she held the back of a prop chair she’d brought along, swooping her panty-clad ass in Johnny Rumble’s drunken face, dancing to a remix of Doja Cat’s “Kiss Me More.”

Rumble spanked her ass cheek with his thick-fingered hand and Minka waved her finger no, but then took his hand and brought it back to her ass cheek and let him squeeze and coddle her. Devlin shook with laughter at Josh’s side, leaning way back, one arm resting on the back of the bench, the other holding a vodka ginger in place on a thigh.

The Jays had beat the Cubs 5-3, and they’d left the private box on the second out, top of the ninth, before the traffic got too hectic. Rumble was loaded and looking for trouble. His face was ruddy and lined and his eyes bleary and dangerous looking. The thug from high school had become a thug in adult life too, now wearing an expensive suit and working as a goalie coach for a prominent Toronto hockey school. Turns out Rumble had got picked up by the Washington Capitals after the second year of university but washed out of their camp before he’d ever got his skates and goalie pads on NHL ice. It left Josh wondering what washed Rumble out. Punching out a coach or another player, maybe biting off someone’s nose or excessive fighting. Who knew. Whatever it was, Josh was sure it was violent and fit in line with Johnny Rumble’s noxious personality.

Johnny Rumble was Devlin’s stated reason for visiting the Alley Cat, teasing Rumble in the limo, leaving the Rogers Centre saying, “Johnny’s had his cock in a cage and now it’s finally free. We’re going to take it out on the town tonight and show it a good time.” Johnny’s wife had signed their divorce papers, and what Devlin made sound like a contentious divorce was now at last settled. Johnny only grumbled and ground his teeth, scowling, looking agitated. But he didn’t turn down the offer to go to the Alley Cat—in fact, it might have been the only thing that saved Glenn and Devlin from a fist fight. Josh cowered in the limo, pushed into the corner, hoping and trusting Devlin and Glenn knew how to handle a fucking troglodyte like Johnny Rumble.

With Rumble’s leathery mitt still on her upturned bottom, Minka thumbed down her panties at one side, revealing her ass. Johnny sat back so he wouldn’t get in the way of her work, admiring what she revealed to them all. The panties came down, showing them her white ass, swaying to the music, the panties catching between her thighs a second before tugging free and falling to the floor. Rumble scooted forward and palmed both cheeks again, parting them. Minka allowed him, going on her tip-toes and shaking her buns for Johnny. He spanked her ass harder this time, making Minka yelped. Josh’s heart stopped, imagining in a terrified moment that the door would open, security would come to Mina’s aid and they would all end up in jail tonight. He’d have to tell Kimmy what happened, how he didn’t want to be here at all, how he couldn’t say no. But it would be humiliating. And what if it went on his record and jeopardized his job, maybe even ruining this promotion he’d just been awarded, canceling his trip to Italy?

His skin prickled with green unease and he shifted and squirmed in his chair.

But Rumble wasn’t the first aggressive customer Minka had ever experienced, and she just stepped away and spun around, letting all of them see her pussy. Josh could hear Rumble growl beside him, even over the music. Then she spun once more, elegant, like maybe she’d done ballet back in Russia, sitting backwards on the chair with her forearms over the seat back, legs wide open, giving all of them a much better view of the space between her thighs.

“Look at that pink fucking monkey,” Rumble said through gritted teeth and elbowed Josh in the arm hard enough to hurt.

Minka humped the chair, rocking her pussy back and forth on the seat, showing it, hiding it, showing it. Josh’s anxiety raced, thinking any second Rumble would lose any cool he might have, lurch forward and grab Minka and end the night with the cops showing up and putting them all in handcuffs.

Thank God the song ended. They paid by the dance, and once the song was over, that was it. Minka stood, naked in high heels, and accepted her camisole, Glenn offering it back to her with a sly but reassuring smile. She covered up her front bits without putting the camisole on, draping it across her body like a toreador before a bull. With her Russian accent, she said, “Do you want to go again?”

Rumble looked at Devlin like Devlin was his daddy, an almost childish, pleading look in his bloodshot, drunken eyes. Josh sneered in his mind, making a low-IQ cartoon voice for the belligerent piece of shit, saying in his head, “Please, Daddy, make the girl do another dance for me.” He couldn’t help chuckling at the hilarious notion, but hid it away in case Rumble caught him and knew exactly what he was thinking. Josh couldn’t see Devlin, but Devlin must have agreed. Devlin paid the bill tonight. Each dance cost a hundred dollars, the security guy outside the room logging the time and the number of songs for them.

Rumble rubbed his hands on his knees, rocking with horny greed, sucking his teeth and looking at Minka. He had a great idea, leaning forward to say to Devlin past Josh: “Let’s get that Chinese one in here with her.”

Josh could see Glenn wince and laugh. He nudged Johnny’s bulky arm, saying, “Easy, big boy. Josh’s wife is Asian.”

Rumble was angered. “So? What the fuck’d I say was so bad?” Then he turned and glared at Josh like it was his fault, though Josh had said nothing at all.

Instant icy fear chilled his heart and Josh put up his hands in surrender. “It’s fine with me, man.”

Already forgotten, Rumble said to Minka, “Tell your guy to bring up that Asian girl. You guys do a deal for two dancers?”

Minka said in her cold Russian way: “No.”

Rumble scoffed, said, “Then just bring up the Asian. You’re done. We already saw your cookie.”

Glenn pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Jesus.”

Minka had dealt with assholes before and she showed no expression, gathering up her things from the floor—out of Rumble’s reach—then leaving the room saying nothing else.

Rumble was back at Josh right away, defensive and arrogant. “I didn’t say anything bad about Chinese people, man.”

Josh was still in surrender, hands up. “I know, I know.”

Devlin, still lounged and easy-going, said, “Josh’s wife is hotter than any of the girls here. You can say anything to him and he’s still the winner. It’s why he’s not even paying attention, that girl humping her cooch on the chair.”

Rumble was pleased, nodding, looking at Josh with new respect. He leaned to the side toward Glenn and grabbed his nine-dollar bottle of Labatt Blue and swigged from it. He wiped his lips and said to Josh, “Oh yeah? She’s fucking hot, huh?”

“Smoking hot,” Devlin said.

It soured Josh’s stomach, but he didn’t show it on his face. One look of weakness and Rumble would be on him like a dog on a steak. Then Devlin said, “She went to Dalton. You don’t remember her?”

Rumble said, “How would I know her? I don’t even know her name. You know how many Chinese girls went to Dalton?”

“You know her,” Devlin said.

Rumble gestured at Josh. “I don’t even know this guy. How’m I going to remember his wife?”

Devlin nudged Josh. “Show him Kimmy’s picture.”

Josh moved cautiously, getting his phone out of his pocket, hoping the subject would change, but Rumble had patience when it came to looking at a hot Asian wife. He woke his phone and found a recent picture of Kimmy; one where she was wearing her suit with her hair up and all her makeup, lips in crimson.

“Ho-lee fucking shit,” Rumble said with horny intent, and took Josh’s phone from him, holding it closer for a good look. “What’s her name?”

Devlin said, “Kimmy. Kimmy Chang.”

“I’d remember this fucking chick. No way she went to Dalton.”

Josh reached for his phone, saying, “She didn’t look like that in high school,” but Rumble was too enamored with Kimmy’s picture, shifting so Josh couldn’t reach it.

“Holy shit, this is your wife? How the fuck did you get that? No offense.” He began thumb-swiping through older pictures and Josh’s armpits went hot and sweaty, still reaching for his phone but held at bay by Rumble’s threatening bulk.

Devlin eased closer to Josh, saying to Johnny, “Give him his phone back,” and Rumble did so with no question. But now his attention had been distracted by Devlin offering his own phone.

Josh took his phone back and swiftly hid it away in his pocket, while Rumble took Devlin’s phone and huddled over it like he was sitting on the toilet. Josh leaned forward, curious to see what had the idiot’s attention.

A photo of Kimmy on Devlin’s phone.

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Thoughts on Rumble?