Divine Job Benefits Ch. 03

"Standard dumpy half-bald white dude. Usually wearing a polo shirt."

"Good enough." Scott headed up the stairs. Misty and Latasha followed. He thought about telling them to stay back, but then considered he didn't really know what he was doing, either. The gun in his hand and the defeated guard proved his meeting with Ares was much more than a pep talk. He also hadn't forgotten Aphrodite's words.

Scott reloaded the gun, tucked it in his waistband behind his back, and gently tried the handle. It didn't turn. He couldn't see anything through the frosted glass that made up the top half of the door, but he did hear a loud "whack" and a man's yelp of pain. Scott's foot came up hard against the door.

The glass shattered and spilled on both sides of the door as it flew open. Scott found Diego, Damonte, and two other bouncers all seated on a couch against the wall to the side, with two other men standing watch with pistols in hand. Directly across the door were a couple of chairs, and beyond that a manager's desk. Mickey sat at the desk with a bloody wound on his head and papers spread out in front of him. A pair of unpleasant men loomed over Mickey in that same sort of outfits as the others.

Not one of them expected the door to crash open. To equal things out, Scott hadn't expected quite so many people, either, but his surprise didn't cost him a step.

One last tough appeared from around the door frame to get in Scott's way, dressed like a bouncer but hardly under anyone's gun. His allegiance was clear as he came at Scott with a closed fist. Scott caught his fist before it landed and unloaded on the man's stomach with his free hand in a rush of fast punches. He hit the guy over and over like a jackhammer, stepping forward into the room without letting go. Even under this effort, he knew where everyone else stood and how they moved, from the thugs to Misty and Latasha wisely staying out in the hall. Scott moved fast and thought much faster.

His first opponent crumbled. Scott pushed the turncoat bouncer up by the gut and the shoulder with a surge of strength to shove him over the desk. The effort confirmed he wasn't superhuman, but he sure was much stronger than he'd ever been. Mickey and the two men holding him in place all fell in a tangle.

Both of the guys watching the bouncers on the couch had their guns up now. A solid and painful kick from Scott sent one man's pistol flying. The other guy was out of reach, but Diego tackled him to the floor. A second later, the other two bouncers seemed to snap out of their shock and their fear of the guns to take down the second guard while Diego handled his.

That left the two guys with Mickey. Scott came around the mess of bouncers and thugs and the big desk. The turncoat bouncer wasn't getting up, but the others were. One was a little dumpy, not unlike Mickey. The other looked thick and dangerous. Scott twisted and tore the gun from the older one's hand. He stepped directly on him and then over Mickey on his way to the last thug. He pistol-whipped the last enemy hard enough to break his nose and finished him off with a sharp kick like he'd practiced each move all his life.

Scott didn't stop to think about it all until he claimed the last thug's gun. Then it all caught up to him: he knew all the moves, each of the guns and how they worked, and what to do about every problem. He took it seriously because any misstep could lead to someone getting shot, but he also knew how to find advantages and how to press them. He could handle bigger challenges than this.

The bad guys were all laid out. The bouncers had control of the last two. Scott found Mickey and the other middle-aged guy both still on the floor. Mickey didn't exactly look relieved, but the other guy was terrified. Scott held a gun in each hand...though not in any proper way to shoot. He didn't plan to.

"Wow, this was crazy," Scott said. His casual confidence surprised him. It felt less like a gift from a god and more like something within. After all the sex and now winning fights, he knew when to ride a wave. "How about you tell me who you are and what's going on?"

"What the... who the fuck are you?" the ringleader exclaimed.

"I'm the guy who beat up your guys and took all your guns. What's your name? You don't leave until I get answers. Talk."

"Jerry." He threw a resentful look at Mickey. "This asshole is in business with me and he fucked it all up. Now he owes me. He's selling me his club. Aren't you, Mickey?" For his part, the manager held one hand over the bruise on his head and winced but didn't answer.

Scott looked around. That explained the paperwork, at least. Damonte gestured at the bouncer who had attacked Scott. "Don here is working with them, too. Mickey yelled for help and we came to see what was up. Fucker helped them corner us."

He didn't go on. The bouncers were fairly quiet, too. Now that Scott thought about it, he figured they would be more talkative or even take charge. Instead they held back as if they had the same questions, or maybe they were happy to let someone else take the lead. In fairness, Scott did just crash in and save them.

Misty and Latasha came into the room. Their scanty clothes were a contrast to all the big, fully clothed men, but neither of them seemed timid. They wanted answers, too.

"What kind of business?" Scott asked. "I'm guessing from the guns it's not about the dancers. And I know they aren't going any farther with customers than lap dances."

"No, not whorin'," Jerry grumbled. Then he winced and yelped when Scott kicked his leg. "Ow! What the fuck!"

"You don't get to talk about them like that. Not here, not around me."

"They're fuckin' strip—ow!" he shouted when Scott kicked him again. "Alright, alright! It's not about them, jeez. It's...other business. The booze and the cash."

"Mickey, what's going on?" asked Diego. He left the others to keep the thugs under wraps. "You never said anything about any other business. I know it isn't drugs. I'd have seen that."

"I'm not a cop," said Scott. "Nobody here is a cop. We're just people in a room with a bunch of assholes with guns and this doesn't go away until you talk."

"It's mostly money laundering," said Mickey. He'd been beaten up and scared before, but somehow he looked even more deflated now.

"Mickey, you stupid—" Jerry began. He stopped when Scott glared at him.

"There's drugs and guns sometimes, too, but only when the club is closed and none of you are here," Mickey went on. "It's only storage for a day or two. Maybe to hold a meeting."

"Jesus Christ, Mickey," said Diego.

"It didn't even involve you. Only a couple people knew."

"I felt pretty involved when this asshole stuck a gun in my face!" said another bouncer. "Feels like we're all pretty fucking involved now."

"And what if you get busted?" asked Latasha. "You think the cops are gonna know none of us are in on it? You think they're gonna care?"

"The least that would happen is everyone loses their jobs, and that's if they're lucky," said Misty.

"Who else knows?" Scott asked Mickey. "Who else?"

Again, Mickey winced. "Joey down in the bar and Ron, the assistant manager."

"Fucking snitch," said Jerry. "You think we're gonna forget this? Or any of you?"

Scott hit the safeties on both guns and set them on Diego's side of the desk. He hauled Jerry up by his shirt, turned him around against the wall, and pulled the wallet from his pocket. "Do you think I'm going to forget your address?" Then he looked at his license. "Wow, Laguna Beach mobsters. I feel like I shouldn't be surprised."

He left Jerry against the wall to put the wallet and its contents out on the desk. By the time Jerry turned around, Scott had his cell phone out to grab pictures of his license and insurance. "What are you gonna do with all that?" asked Jerry.

"I dunno, what were you planning with all those threats you just laid on everyone here?" asked Scott. "You had all these guys and all their guns and look at you now. Imagine what I'll do if you make me mad."

In truth, Scott didn't have such a plan. Perhaps Jerry sensed it from the way he stepped forward as if to intimidate him. "Who the fuck are you, even?" Jerry blurted. "Some kid with a—urk!" Scott slapped him hard across the face without even looking.

"Take your guys and get the fuck out." Scott tossed Jerry's wallet and cards back to him, not that Jerry could catch it all at once. "Pretty sure a couple of your guys here need a hospital. Forget about your business here and all the rest of it. Forget this place even exists and pretend tonight never happened."

"I've got a stake in this place!"

"Really? Legally? Is your name on it?" Scott asked. He looked at Mickey, who didn't look back but the older man shook his head. "Guess that answers that. It's time to go now."

Seething, Jerry picked up his belongings and muttered an order to his guys. The bouncers let them go one by one. The disloyal bouncer leaned on another man's shoulder for help. One complained about leaving without their guns, but the others silenced him as they staggered out.

"Somebody should probably watch them go," said Scott. He didn't say it as an order, but the bouncers exchanged glances and agreed without speaking. Damonte and the other followed. That left only Scott, Mickey, Diego, and Misty and Latasha in the room.

"I ain't working with this mob shit," said Latasha.

"Neither am I," said Diego.

"Kinda wonder if Mickey is anymore, either," said Scott. He looked down at the owner and manager slowly rising to his chair. "Did you know all this was coming? What happened?"

"Jerry fucked up a deal on his own and wanted to pin it on me so he could tell his bosses he'd get their money back. He's been pressuring me to make up for his mistakes and finally he came to this stupid idea. Doesn't matter. They won't forget me just 'cause you told 'em to," said Mickey. "Whoever you are. I don't even know you."

"Just a customer," said Scott.

"Whatever. None of this shit is worth my life. You all do what you want, I'm out of here and I'm out of all this. Time to retire someplace a couple thousand miles away."

Scott looked down at the papers on the desk. Aphrodite's words hung close in his mind. "Are these papers legitimate? This really sells the club?"

"Yeah, it's all legit except the price is outright robbery. Sure I can find a buyer once I'm gone."

"Mickey, what the hell? What about all the people working here?" asked Latasha.

"Guess that's up to them. What do you want, a severance package? You see where I'm at here. I gotta go before those assholes show up at my house."

Scott scanned the papers and found the dollar figure easily enough. It stood out among the text. The number was clearly a punishment. There had to be taxes and licenses and other matters, but he also figured Jerry had it all figured out. Jerry didn't have a goddess on his side, either.

"Here, I can help." Scott picked a pen off the desk and made two simple corrections: he filled his name in on the buyer's line and then altered the price. Even the mobsters were more generous.

"Twenty bucks?" Mickey scowled. "The fuck are you smoking? You have any idea what kind of money this place pulls in every week? Get outta here."

"You put everyone's lives in danger and now you're abandoning them. God only knows who got hurt along the way by all the shit you were part of. You can either cut loose or face the music for all your bullshit. Honestly I'd make it a dollar but a twenty is the smallest thing I've got in my pocket right now." Scott looked to the others in the room. "Anyone else want to put in a bid? Maybe be co-owners?"

Latasha shook her head and answered, "Not sure I want to put my name on all this." Diego made the same motion. Misty just grinned, then winked when Latasha noticed her silent enthusiasm.

Scott pulled a twenty from his pocket and slapped it on the desk. He held out the pen. "Sign."

Though he glared resentfully at Scott, Mickey grumbled, "You want all the trouble that comes with this place? Fine. Better than trying to find a buyer, anyway."

He grabbed at the pen, but Scott hung onto it. "I want passwords for the computer and all the utility accounts, too. Write it all down. And hand over the keys."

* * *

Performance and entertainment carried on as usual on the main floor. Dancers showed off and customers cheered and threw their cash, all none the wiser.

A small couch against one wall went ignored by all despite three dazzling occupants. Shadows hung as if the closest lights covering their seats had gone out. A bit of magic did the rest. Magic helped them to see beyond the show floor, too, and even through walls. They reclined in the couch looking up toward the tinted window of the VIP suite. They heard every word inside.

"You know what I like about all that?" asked the youthful blonde beauty in the center. Aphrodite smiled at her companions. "I didn't tell him what to do. I don't see any sign of another god's influence, either. The fighting skills are from Ares, sure, but everything after? That was all Scott."

"You set him up," said one of the two darker-haired women with her. She was model-gorgeous, her looks a little more mature than Aphrodite but still stunning in a white shoulder-strap dress that hugged her curves. "You told him, like you told us."

"Not in advance," said the other woman. An onlooker might think her between the others in age, but was no less beautiful. She wore designer blue jeans and a leather jacket. "He didn't plan on coming here tonight and neither did she. This was all opportunity, wasn't it?"

"Can't ever get anything past you, Athena," laughed Aphrodite. "This was spontaneous. I gave the bad guys a nudge so they'd make their move tonight. I didn't guide anything else. You know how it works."

"The moves were Ares, yes," Athena confirmed to their other companion. "Everything after the fighting was all him. He's clever and he's quick. That much is natural."

"He's still a little timid," said the other.

"Oh, come on, Hera," Aphrodite chided. "You think he's going to execute them all and send them home on their shields? The world has changed. This isn't about wars, anyway. It's not that kind of heroism." Her grin turned sultry. "This is pure fun."

"That's what I'm talking about. Killing would hardly impress me. I'm talking about his way with women. That is the whole point to this, isn't it?"

"He grew up around users and abusers and he doesn't want to hurt anyone like they did," said Athena. "Also, he respects consent. He wants to make sure it isn't all too good to be true, so he's being careful even with Aphrodite's guidance. I'd rather see this than some man who takes it all for granted. Besides, he's growing into it fast." She raised her drink to her grinning lips. "I like him."

"Excellent," said Aphrodite.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," said Athena. "I'm not biting before the fruit is ripe enough."

"Phrasing," Aphrodite teased. She looked to her other companion. "That leaves you, Hera? What do you think?"

She watched the affairs in the manager's office in silence for a moment, but relented. "You know I'd never doubt your judgment in your area of expertise," said Hera. "I'm sure he'll be splendid in that regard. Beyond the obvious, Athena is right. He needs to grow a little more. I don't want to have to train anyone."

"I think maybe you would like that," said Aphrodite. "Maybe you're looking forward to it."

Hera shot her a look, but it was the look of a friend who'd been outed. She smothered her grin and reached for her drink to cover it. "We're in your realm here, I suppose."

"And what about yours?" asked Aphrodite. "Do we have your permission to proceed?"

"You know my conditions. They haven't changed. Go ahead. But don't get so explicit with him about my approval," said Hera. "I'll like him better if he's a little bold."

"Oh, I think he's already got that," said Aphrodite.

* * *

Mickey shuffled out of the office with a small box of personal belongings. He left behind his keys, his business and property rights, and most of his pride. Scott remained in the office with Misty, Latasha, and Diego.

"Guess that's done," said Scott. He half-sat on the front of the desk facing the others. The paperwork sat beside him all freshly signed and initialed in the right places. He knew he didn't have to ask how Misty felt, but the sparkle in his eyes came as a boost anyway. He looked to Latasha. "I'm sorry we didn't get to talk. Are you a regular here? I got the impression from Misty that some of the dancers move from club to club."

"I'm kind of a regular, but we all move around, more or less," said Latasha. "Dancers aren't really hired as employees. You rent time on stage. It's a system."

"Sounds like a way to take advantage of you," said Scott.

"It's the business. Just comes down to how much the club wants and how hard they push." Her skeptical frown returned. "You just took over a strip club without any idea how it works?"

"Pretty much. I want to make sure everything is fair here from now on. I could use your help. We could negotiate whatever seems fair to you." He shrugged. "Or if you're having second thoughts about not going in on ownership, we can talk about that."

Latasha held up her hands, almost laughing. "We're good. I'm not freaking out over all that. If I wanted it, I'd have said something." Her eyes softened as she looked him up and down again. He knew that look by now. "We're good," she repeated easily.

"Diego? You okay with all this?" Scott shrugged. "Latasha's got a point about me. I wouldn't blame anyone if they wanted to walk...or if you had second thoughts about buying in."

"Shit, ten minutes ago I thought I was going to get shot over whatever Mickey did. Or I'd be out of a job if I left alive. I'm not interested in any life of crime nonsense." He shook his head as he looked at the paperwork. "I don't think I want to own any business right now. It's not like I've gone over the books, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know. I have faith. Might find a lawyer, too," Scott grinned.

Diego laughed. "Could use a raise, though."

"Definitely. Maybe after I see the books and figure out what we've got? Like I said, I want things to be fair. Sounds like we've got a couple people to get rid of, though."

"Yeah." Diego grinned. "You mind if I do the honors? I don't like either of those fuckers."

"Be my guest. Can you make sure the rest of the club is running fine, too? Get everyone back to their spots?"

"On it, boss." It came out more as a handshake than a show of deference, or perhaps a pat on the head, but his smile was genuine. Diego walked out, leaving Scott alone with two women in nothing more than lingerie.

"Hey," he said, stepping close to Misty. His arm slipped around her bare back, gently drawing her close. "Little more of an interruption than I expected."

"Me, too." She grinned until he kissed her and let out a soft moan as his free hand stroked up and down her side. "I thought we'd be having more fun by now. Or maybe I could take you home."

"Think we need to hang around here until closing tonight," said Scott. "We could probably have some more fun until then?"

"And then my place?" Misty giggled.

"Maybe. I've got classes tomorrow. Also that whole revenge thing. But until then I'm all yours."

"You mind if I watch?" asked Latasha. Despite all her confidence, a shaky breath escaped her. "You two are hot."

"We'd like it better if you joined us," said Misty.

Latasha blinked. Scott came closer. "Might be inappropriate with me being the manager now," he teased.

"I like inappropriate," she said. "I'm not normally turned on by violence but it worked this time, too. Or maybe it's just you?"

"Maybe." Scott felt her tremble as he kissed her, as though all her strength evaporated except in her lips as she kissed back harder and hungrier. He held her up, gladly caressing and exploring her body. Misty's arms came around him to even out their amount of clothing, stripping away his shirt, belt, and more while he warmed Latasha up. They worked like a team while Latasha fell deeper and deeper into arousal.