The Club Can't Handle Me Right Now Novels & Stories

"You think I won't?" "If Stanton is half as good as they say, he'll make sure you don't. Like he already said," Colt explains. "But I hope you do." "What?" I shake my head. "I can't." "It's only my wish," Colt says, and there is a note of regret in his tone. "I'm afraid there are forces involved now that make it difficult for the club to help as fully as we would like to." I sit up straight, the lingering sadness evaporating into alertness. I ask him, "What are you talking about? What forces?"

“I …. I didn’t want to call like this. I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to. What happened?” She sniffles, trying to pull herself together, but the effort only seems to make it worse. “It’s the club. Everything is just … too much right now.” I close my eyes briefly, listening.

Overall, it wasn’t a horrible night, but I’d still rather cuddle on the couch with my two favorite people. That game night was the last game night that I’ve been able to participate in since. Things picked up at the club due to me having to let most of the employees go because they weren’t willing to take the classes. I’m actually fine with that because there were too many employees for my liking. Most just saw the club as a place to have sex and that’s not how my club will be run.

I was always up my abilities when it had to do with work but now, I lacked the focus. I couldn't use the weekend to complete the remaining paper works as I had planned. I called the club myself after Justin messed up. The shit home of a club manager told me that she doesn't work as a stripper anymore. That's good to hear but I wanted to know where she was yet, he could not give me an answer to my question.

Immature as it was, it was his own rebellion. "As some of you know," his old man said, "Charity has been retained by the club to help with the situation at CRISIS." "What situation is that?" he asked as obnoxiously as he could. They'd left him out, and he wanted them to suffer for it. He wanted them to have to explain it in front of everyone. This pissed him the fuck off.

“We’re having a hard time retaining customers, but you should seen it last night, it was packed.” My head tilts, studying him. Could Kingston have been right about him failing at this too? “Damien.” “Okay,” He sighs, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ll be honest with you, I don't know what I’m doing wrong, A. Things just changed one night, and I have been trying to get customers again, but nothing is working. I really thought I had something good going here.” “You still do,” I tell him. The club is in ship shape, it might not be full, but it’s got customers, customers I can count on my fingers but it’s something. “And you better figure out how to save this club before your brother finds out.”

Minus asked. “Nothin’. Not a goddamned thing I can do about it. It’s aggressive and it’s having a fucking party all over my insides. Besides, it’s not like the club has a health plan to pay for treatment. Hell, before we started getting’ patched up by Doc Eldie, I hadn’t seen a doctor since I was a kid. Probably why I’m in the state I am now. She was the one that spotted somethin’ was wrong with me in the first place, but by then it was too late.” “Then why the fuck are you telling us?” I asked.

These people are a bunch of idiots, she thought. “I do not expect that you all won't understand how much of a damage speculation that arose from jealousy can ruin a united industry like ours. Whoever said such word, I will forget it. But I don't want my reputation to be tarnished further than what some bad people have already done…”she was saying when everyone yelled at her to sit down. “I don't care if you were framed or not. But what I saw today, was enough for me to refuse this open preference. I am in this industry before you and I am your senior.

"Must be nice though. Two Alphas fighting over you." I open my mouth to correct her, to lay out exactly how untrue that framing is, how none of this was something I asked for or wanted, how being rejected in front of two hundred people doesn't magically become romantic just because someone else happened to notice. The words are right there, ready to spill out in careful, reasonable detail. I stop myself. Barely. "I need to get to the clinic," I say instead, and walk away before I can undo my own restraint.

"What's going on?" There was a pause on the other end of the line. A long pause. The kind of pause that preceded bad news, the kind of pause that said I'm sorry before the words ever left someone's mouth. "I can't represent you anymore, Joe." The words landed like a punch to the gut. "What do you mean you can't represent me anymore?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You're my lawyer. I pay you. You don't get to just quit."