Chapter 6 - Odd Jobs
After making sure the town car was spotless, Dean punched the address for the job into the GPS and drove downtown.
"Go three miles, then turn right on - "
Dean made a face as the feminine robot voice butchered a local street name. He shut it off immediately and gunned the engine, confident he could find the place on his own. Countless nights spent mapping escape routes with Seth and Roman gave him a pretty good mental map of the city.
The address belonged to a brownstone in a ritzy part of town. Dean figured they'd be headed to a party at a hotel or banquet hall. While they fake laughed at all their rich people jokes, Dean could sneak into the kitchen, make friends with the staff and get a free dinner out of the deal.
When the guy came outside, Dean's outlook on the night changed. The man was in his late 40's and dressed in a suit - an expensive one, which made sense, given the neighborhood. But he had a head of messy blonde hair, which was sort of unkempt considering the expensive suit. Then there were his eyes. They were deep blue, and had a barely controlled intensity when he set them on Dean.
"Mr. Regal?" Dean asked, since that was the guy's name, and that was how his dad wanted him to address clients.
"Are you my driver?" the man asked, surprising Dean with a polite British accent. The gentle quality of his voice only made the eyes seem more intense.
A fancy fuckin' psychopath. Just my luck.
"Yup." said Dean.
Mr. Regal stared into Dean's eyes and sized him up. Dean stared back, trying his hardest not to make a snide comment. His dad did not appreciate his humor when he practiced it on the job.
The man's brow furrowed. The staring continued. Dean was much younger and more fit than most of the limo drivers Regal was used to.
"How late can you stay out?" Regal asked him.
Dean's mouth curved down into a thoughtful frown. "There's usually a cut off, depending on the services ordered. But, uh..."
The scale of Dad's Disappointment tipped in favor of spontaneity, and Dean shrugged.
"You've got me all night, if you need me."
Regal's scowl became an appreciative half-smile.
"I'll compensate you for the extra time."
Dean smiled back. "No problem."
This Mr. Regal was quiet for the first leg of the trip. After telling Dean a different address than was on the job form, Regal pulled out a tablet and became engrossed with whatever information he was studying.
Dean studied his passenger in the rearview mirror any chance he got. There was something decidedly different about this man. The way he carried himself gave the impression that he had power. Not the kind people pretended to have because they happened to have some money. No, this guy had real power.
Regal felt Dean's gaze and glanced up, making eye contact in the small mirror. Dean looked away, playing it casual.
"Do you want to ask me something?" Regal asked. The sound proofing inside the car made his voice sound very close.
"Nope." Dean said.
"You're not wondering why I changed the destination at the last minute?"
"None of my business."
"It should be, shouldn't it?" Regal pressed.
"If you want me to ask, I'll ask. But I'm the type of guy who's usually up for anything. I like to be surprised."
Regal smiled softly to himself, eyes narrowed. It was Dean's lack of fear that piqued Regal's interest.
"There are people who might want to know where I spend my nights." The older man explained. "I don't mind if they find out after I've spent it. But the actual spending, I like to keep that information private. That's why I give false addresses over the phone."
"What, do you kill prostitutes or something?"
The words tumbled out without much thought, and the Dad Disappointment alarm rang dimly in Dean's head. Thankfully, Regal found his irreverence highly entertaining.
"No, that would be quite a waste." Regal replied with a chuckle. Smirking, he looked at Dean in the mirror and studied him again. "You don't do this for a living, do you?"
Dean watched the road, hesitating for a moment. That was another thing his dad didn't want him discussing. Roddy didn't want them to look like a small-time business. Dean was supposed to act like all the other professionals. But this guy was weird, and they were building rapport. Dean could not resist.
"Nah," he admitted. "This is a favor for the owner of the company. I'm his son."
"You're a good son."
Dean chuckled, thoroughly amused by that idea. "I don't know, I've ignored at least five company policies since leaving home tonight."
"I bet that doesn't even include traffic violations." Regal quipped.
"Just trying to get you to your party on time." Dean replied.
"And that is much appreciated." said Regal. "So what is it that you do?"
"I'm, uh...between jobs at the moment. Just odd jobs, here and there."
"What is it that you want to do?"
Again, Dean hesitated.
Regal sensed it. "Odd jobs aren't an end goal, are they? If you don't want to take over your father's business, then what do you want?"
Dean didn't have to think very hard. Stealing cars was a fun pastime, and thanks to his friends and the positive reinforcement of well executed teamwork, they'd gotten good at it. But that wasn't the goal either.
"I wanna fight." he said simply.
Regal's eyes filled with inner light, as if Dean had said some magic words.
"I think you'll like where we're going." Regal said cryptically.
Dean looked in the mirror at his passenger, and forced a dry chuckle.
"Why's that?" he asked.
"Have you ever fought before?" Regal asked him.
"I've wrestled, and I box -"
"No, I mean really fought someone. Have you ever hit someone as hard as you can, with your bare knuckles? Fist on flesh?"
Dean took one hand off the wheel and held it up so Regal could see the evidence.
"Oh." Regal intoned, as if he'd seen a holy symbol. "I always have been good at reading people..."
Technically, he'd sustained his most recent damage in a fight against a defenseless pile of trash cans, but Regal didn't have to know that. Dean had been in plenty of real fights.
Their destination was a warehouse in a dilapidated industrial area. There weren't many working street lights, and the few commercial storefronts visible from their side of the street were dark for the night. This was where people worked, not where people lived.
The warehouse was lit from within, and Dean could see a small crowd filing through the door.
"Park the car." said Regal. "We'll walk in together."
"I'm not supposed to fraternize..." Dean said, his tone mocking, as he pulled into a parking space and turned off the car.
"This place is one of the biggest Not-Supposed-To's on the planet." said Regal. "I promise I won't tell Daddy." he added in a cheeky tone.
Challenge accepted, Dean thought.
There was a very large man checking ID's at the door; he didn't even make eye contact with Regal. Regal simply walked in, and it was accepted that Dean was his guest. It was quiet as the night outside but when Dean walked in, it sounded like a war was on. The floor was packed with people and everyone was shouting, either calling out bets or simply to be heard over the rest of the din. There was a cage in the middle of the place that kept rattling. Dean was tall enough to peek over the crowd. There were two people inside the cage, and they were beating the shit out of each other. Deans pulse quickened, sense memory causing him to feel the sting of the punches as the sound of them reached his ears. His hands curled into fists subconsciously, and his muscles tensed. One of the bodies slammed into the cage again, and the crowd cheered with satisfaction.
Regal glanced at the cage, uninterested in the outcome. He was more interested in Dean's reaction. He could see it now, how eager Dean was for a fight. Not so much before, when he was just an unlikely limo driver. But now, inside the warehouse, it was as if Dean had found his people. Eyes sternly focused, Dean's mind was already inside the cage.
With a primal scream, the fighter with the upper hand threw his entire body into a spear, lifting his opponent from the ground and then slamming him onto the concrete. The other man didn't get up after that. Moments later a bell rang, and the cheers were deafening. It sounded like the crowd favorite had prevailed.
The moment gave Dean chills. Now that the fight was over, his mind was once again his own. He looked to his right. Regal was still there, watching him with admiration.
"Thrilling, isn't it?" Regal said.
The cheers had died down abruptly. There was no hero worship as two bloody bodies left the cage, one limping on his own two feet, the other carried. The audience relaxed and began chattering about the next match while someone sprayed a hose at the floor.
Dean took another glance at Regal's suit.
"Are you a bookie?" Dean asked.
"More of an agent, really." Regal replied.
Dean nodded, and looked around the warehouse at an interesting mix of people. There were rich guys and their lady friends, and blue-collar types trying to make some quick cash. Then there were the slick-looking guys taking all the money between fights.
"It's all illegal, right?"
"Oh, quite." Regal answered, though he was sure Dean already knew. A surly young man with bloody knuckles was not going to clutch his pearls. He did seem green, however. Like he'd heard of these places but never knew where to find them or who to ask.
Now he knew. He could feel the electricity. He could feel it in his bones that this is what he was supposed to do. It was everything Coach Michaels tried to make him forget.
His instincts.
Back on the other side of town, AJ was reminded yet again that this job of hers was not at all what she wanted to do. While she waited for the bartender to complete her latest drink order, AJ glanced around the club. She was always on the lookout, terrified of the possibility that someone who knew her would come into the club. One acquaintance of her parents and her cover would be blown. Then again, maybe that acquaintance wouldn't want her parents to know that they'd been to that club. Even when she was busy, the back and forth of fear and reassurance was always playing in the back of her mind. She had to keep reminding herself that there was nothing wrong with her chosen job, there was nothing wrong with what any of them were doing. It wouldn't be the end of the world if someone found out...but if she could keep it to herself for just one more night, that wouldn't suck either.
AJ glanced up at the stage, where Summer Rae was performing. Her particular act slanted more towards burlesque; she kept a certain amount of clothing on, so it was more of a tease. AJ thought of the Bellas and their vaguely incestuous twin sister act. They'd go on right before Kelly, who was the main draw of the club. She bared it all, and loved every second of it.
All of those girls were naturals at this, while AJ found herself struggling in the role of server. Sure, she could fake it. She had a beautiful smile that got compliments every night. She was witty, and always had comebacks when customers made rude comments. Even if they seemed like animals, she knew how to flirt with them.
She just couldn't help but feel that all the attention was for the wrong thing. She didn't want to be a sex object. She wanted to be respected for her own talent and skill. Just because she was good at it – making the customers feel welcome, and therefore making the customers spend more money – didn't mean it made her happy.
Kaitlyn was good at hiding it too. Everybody loved her, which made AJ happy, since she loved Kaitlyn too. They were each the other's reason for sticking it out. They both made good money there, better money for less hours than any other bartending gig, and for now it was worth the hassle from Vickie and the occasional bad customer. They were saving up for school, and so they could stay in training at the gym. Nothing was going to stop them.
"All set." the bartender called out when he placed the fifth and final shot on her tray.
Summer Rae's mile long legs and sequined tassels dazzled on stage while AJ walked through the darker dining area. She was concentrating on keeping the tray steady, so she wasn't aware of the hand that snuck out to smack her on the ass until it happened. The guy got a good squeeze before letting go. Her first instinct was to dump the drinks and beat him unconscious with the tray, but Vickie's policy was clear: the first ass grab was free. If it happened again, AJ was allowed to give a polite warning. If it happened three times, then she was allowed to call the bouncer over for support.
"You gonna shake that for me later?" the guy asked, clearly trying to impress his friends. They were all watching, waiting for her reaction.
Swallowing her rage, AJ forced a smile and turned to face his sneer.
"I'm shaking it right now, aren't I?" AJ asked. "This way you get to see it up close and personal."
"You could come sit on my lap. That'd be personal." The guy gave his friends a big, open-mouthed grin and laughed at his own joke.
"Just be a good boy, or you'll have to leave, okay?" AJ said sweetly, pretending that his departure would break her little heart.
She turned and pretended not to hear whatever rude comment came next. Their regulars were mostly nice people; they respected the girls and the services they were providing. It was just the douchebags trying to impress their friends that were the problem. But they were douchebags with money, and AJ's revenge would be taking as much cash from them as she could.
With the full tray balanced on her hand, AJ stopped by the entrance where Erick sat on his stool for the night.
"Keep an eye on the guy in the orange polo shirt?" AJ asked.
"I got both eyes on him already, don't you worry." he assured her in a humorless voice. AJ wanted to kiss her big, burly protector on the cheek, but that was against policy too. Only the customers were supposed to get that sort of attention. Vickie would sell them all into slavery, given the chance. It was nice to know there was someone there watching out for them. Someone that was almost seven feet tall, and built like a tractor-trailer.