“Come on, baby. You look like the perfect fit for my fat cock.” The overweight, smelly man grabbed Angel by the arm and dragged him towards the back room of the dingy club.
“Hey!” Wade called, and for a second Angel thought he might object to this filthy pig fucking his little brother. Wade snapped his fingers. “Cash first, asshole. A hundred bucks.”
The man grunted and dug out his wallet while still clutching Angel’s arm. He fumbled through the billfold and produced five twenties, slapped them into Wade’s hand then shoved Angel into the back room.
“Get off me.” Angel’s eyes began to burn as he pushed against the customer’s thick, somewhat meaty chest. Unlike the other places, here at the Phoenix, it was the dancer’s choice whether or not to accept an offer–Max had made that very clear.
“Is there a problem?” Cole was suddenly standing at the entrance, hands clamped on his hips, eyes narrow, hard, as he glared at the persistent customer. His gaze swept quickly over the man with disgust and he reached out, touching the guy’s shoulder with just his fingertips. “How about you back off my boy for a moment.”
“How about you go fuck yourself?” The man growled. “I got the cash, and I want some fucking ass.”
Cole looked at him dryly. “The only ass you’re getting in this place is an ass kicking if you don’t take your fucking nasty ass out of here.” He took a step closer to show he wasn’t joking. “The Phoenix is a high class club. There is a dress code, as well as a shower code. Our boys are clean and smell damn good…the same is expected from the customer. So how about you go home, scrape off the stink and don’t come back.”
“I have the cash.” The guy insisted, seemingly incapable of comprehending that Cole was kicking him out.
“Do you now?” Cole smirked, moving forward, causing the man to back away from Angel. He slipped his arm around Angel’s shoulder. “Well the cost of some private time with this fine specimen here is five hundred dollars. And that’s just the starting price. You got that kind of cash?”
The man looked Angel over skeptically. “He ain’t worth no five hundred bucks.”
Cole’s arm tightened around Angel’s shoulder and for the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, he felt safe and secure. At no time with his so-called family had he ever felt so safe or protected…or cared for. “This kid’s fucking sweat is worth five hundred bucks. And consequently more than your life is worth.”
The man grunted, started to retort, when a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. “How the fuck did you get in here?” Trevor growled. “I didn’t let you in.” He glanced at Cole. “Sorry about this. I just stepped away from the door for a second. Didn’t know this slug was going to slither in.” Trevor’s mere appearance said he wasn’t someone to fuck with. He turned the guy around with force and shoved him towards the front doors. “Get the fuck out, you nasty ass motherfucker.”
The unwelcome customer spewed a load of profanity at them but offered no challenge and walked out. Trevor looked at his hands and grimaced. “Now I need to go fucking sanitize my hands.” He glanced at Cole. “Watch the door for a sec?”
“No problem.” Cole chuckled as the guy headed towards the restroom. His arm remained around Angel’s shoulder and he looked down at him. “You okay?”
He swallowed thick and nodded. “Yeah.” He whispered. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.” Cole smiled. “You know, that nasty fucker’s lucky it was me and not Max who came along.” He chuckled low. “Max would’ve probably just shot his ass and dumped him in the alley out back, for trying to come into his club looking and smelling like that.”
A tight smile squeezing his lips, Angel murmured, “I thought you handled it great.”
“Aww, you’re just saying that.” Cole feigned modesty and Angel laughed. “So, you want to watch the door with me?”
Angel nodded and Cole walked him out to the front of the club.
“So,” Cole mused. “Your dance lessons look like they’re coming along well. Ricky’s a hot dancer, isn’t he?” Angel nodded, lips tightening. He felt Cole’s eyes on him. “Yeah, Ricky can teach you the saucy moves.” He said as he accepted the entrance fee from an incoming customer. “But if you want to learn the smooth, sensual stuff,” he winked, “You should get Dane to teach you.”
Chapter Five
Where Angels Fear To Tread