“Thank you.” I watch Linc try to hide his smile.
“Just out of curiosity, would the name Turner have also gotten us into this Willy Wonka’s playhouse of fun?”
The bouncer’s deep scowl returns, seemingly not as hospitable with Colt as he was with Linc.
“Yes. It would have.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Colt utters bitterly under his breath. “Well, let’s see how much trouble we can get into here, shall we?”
He’s pissed that his father knew about The Brass Guild and kept its existence from him. If their dynamics together weren’t already strained enough, this little tidbit is bound to create some friction between the two.
Not that I care. I’ve got enough daddy issues of my own, to take on Colt’s as well.
“Phones,” one of the security guards says before letting us step in over the threshold.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Phones. No one goes in with one.”
“Yeah, I’m not giving you my phone.” Colt sticks to his guns.
“Then I guess you won’t be joining your friends. Discretion is our number one rule,” the bouncer insists, shaking the small box in his hand.
“Just hand it over, Colt,” Linc orders.
“I don’t like this,” Colt rebukes, his stiff jaw ticking.
“You don’t have to like it. Just do it.”
Colt’s emerald eyes turn into cold jewels as he drops his phone into the small box under duress. I have to admit, I’m not comfortable with letting mine out of my sight either, but what can they do with it? Without facial recognition, no one will be able to access my phone. As far as I’m concerned, all they have is a useless pile of metal, and if releasing it gets me through the door, so be it.
With everyone’s phones now stashed away by the Brass’s goons, we are finally invited to enter. Once we step foot inside the high-ceiling entrance hall, I make an effort to school my surprise at my surroundings.
“So, this is what going to Vegas must feel like,” Stone utters in awe, mimicking my own thoughts.
I feel as if we just entered a scene of a James Bond movie, ready to be served a ‘shaken, not stirred’ martini while we scour the place for the villain, who undoubtedly will end up telling us his maniacal plot before the night’s ends. But that shit only happens in movies, and we sure as hell aren’t in one. This is real life, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.
Hidden away in the Blue Ridge Mountains lies an underground casino with all the frills, bells, and fancy lights you’d expect from such an establishment. From blackjack tables, craps, roulette, to poker games and slot machines, you name it. All of it can be found right here at The Brass Guild.
A den of sin. That’s what this place is. From gambling and booze to high-end escorts, this place has it all. And is quietly tucked away, hidden from the masses to ensure whatever sin is committed here stays confined to these walls.
My curiosity eclipses my previous apprehension, wondering if we didn’t just stumble into The Society’s favorite playground.
“Good evening, gentlemen. My name is Ruby. I’ll be your hostess tonight.” A red-haired woman greets us.
She’s wearing a black dress so sheer that I can make out the size of her nipples. By her looks, she must be in her early thirties—sophisticated and poised, despite her provocative attire.
I try to remember if I’ve ever seen her before, but aside from the well-dressed Northside men in attendance, the women here are hard to place.
Our hostess steps closer to Lincoln, fully aware that he’s the one that needs to be impressed. The smoldering bedroom eyes she lands on him are all for show. She and the two ebony sexpots at her side have seduction down to a T. Their half-mast eyes, and hungry gazes are carefully fabricated to entice the male patrons to open their wallets and leave their money behind. And from a quick glance around, I can tell they are quite good at their job.
“What may The Brass Guild tempt you with tonight? A little gambling, a show, or is it company you require?”
“That all depends. We saw a platinum blonde come in a few minutes ago, which sparked my curiosity. Is she in your roster of company?” Lincoln asks, his smooth southern tone making Ruby’s lashes flutter.
“Oh. You must mean Angel. No, sugar. As much as we’d love to have her, she’s not for sale.” She explains, running a red fingernail up and down Lincoln’s pressed shirt.
I’m not sure why, but I let out a sigh of relief when she confirms that Scarlett isn’t one of The Brass’s girls.
Angel.
Jesus Christ, Scarlett. Angel? Really?
It’s not very original, but I guess names are irrelevant in a place like this.
“But if it’s Angel who has tickled your fancy, I can take you to the showroom,” Ruby adds, entwining her hand with Lincoln’s while she nips at his jaw with her teeth.
The woman is all sex and no foreplay.
Lincoln chuckles under his breath before taking Ruby’s chin in his firm grasp, holding it just a hair’s breadth away from his face, and says, “Please do. I love a good show.”
“Ah, sugar, I’d love to give you one.”
“Angel first, Ruby.”
She lets out another seductive smile, thinking she’s got him on the hook.
“Will your friends be joining you, or can my girls play with them for a bit?”
“I’d love to play,” one of the dark-skinned sirens mewls, biting her bottom lip while looking at Stone.
“I think we can be persuaded. Can’t we, Finn?” Colt taunts with a sultry grin of his own when the dark-haired temptress starts playing with a lock of Stone’s hair.
Finn slams his elbow into Colt’s stomach and slaps the escort’s hand off of Stone.
“Hands off,” he growls.
The ebony seductress sticks out her tongue with a big pout.
“You’re no fun.”
“Yeah, baby. You’re no fun,” Stone teases with an all-knowing smirk.
“I’ll show you fun,” Finn grunts, grabbing Stone’s hand and walking away to God knows where.
“Where are they going?” the escort asks with a sullen pout on her lips.
“Knowing those two, they’re going to search for any dark corner they can find to fuck their brains out,” Colt laughs. “But don’t you worry, darling, I can entertain you.”
“No one is entertaining anyone,” Lincoln commands with a stern scowl directed at his cousin.
“See? This is who is no fun. You and East go and do your thing. One of us has to see the lay of the land. Show me the way, beautiful,” he says, putting his arms around the waist of the other two girls, and heading toward the gaming area.
Lincoln’s shoulders square stiffly, uncomfortable with Colt being on his own.
“He’s a big boy, Linc. And besides, he’s right. One of us should have a look around,” I whisper at his side, low enough to prevent Ruby from hearing me.