Club Fang

Fang signaled the feline waitress and placed their order, Kev opting for a soup this time, curious to see what Reepia's kitchen could conjure up besides massive steaks. As they waited, Kev's attention was drawn to the dance floor, where the energy had reached a fever pitch. Tonight, instead of the melancholic strings, a lone pianist commanded the room, his fingers dancing across the keys with breathtaking speed and precision.

Kev, though unfamiliar with the pieces being played, was captivated by the sheer virtuosity of the performance. The pianist's skill was undeniable, each note resonating with emotion and power. Having dabbled in music himself back on Earth, Kev could appreciate the countless hours of practice and dedication that had gone into honing such talent. The drums and guitar had been his instruments of choice, and he'd even managed to compose a few original songs on his computer. But hearing this level of mastery on the piano filled him with a sense of awe and inspiration.

The music shifted, transitioning into a fast-paced waltz. The dancers on the floor, as if guided by an invisible force, seamlessly adapted their movements to the new rhythm. Couples twirled and dipped, their bodies swaying in perfect synchronicity with the music. Kev found himself mesmerized by the spectacle, the interplay of light and shadow, the graceful movements of the dancers, and the evocative melodies weaving a tapestry of emotions.

Their food arrived, a steaming cup of soup for Kev and a T-bone steak with a side of pork-chops for Fang. As Fang dug into his meal with his usual gusto, he noticed Kev's rapt attention focused on the pianist. A soft smile touched his lips.

"That's our entertainment manager, Amadeus," he said, leaning closer to Kev so his voice could be heard over the music. "He's a maestro on the keys, isn't he?"

Kev nodded, his eyes still glued to the dancers. "He's incredible," he whispered, a genuine admiration in his voice. "I've never heard anyone play like that."

Fang chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through Kev's body. "After his set, I'll call him over and introduce you two," he promised. "He's a bit eccentric, but a true genius."

Kev's curiosity was piqued. He wondered what kind of face lay behind such masterful talent.

As they finished their meal, Fang casually draped an arm around Kev's shoulders, pulling him closer. A sense of contentment washed over him, a feeling of relaxation he hadn't experienced in a long time. Unlike Kev, who was still captivated by the music and the dancers, Fang's gaze roamed the club, taking in the scene with a practiced eye. He observed the staff as they moved about their duties, noting minor inefficiencies and potential areas for improvement. But tonight, his usual critical eye was softened by a newfound sense of peace. The presence of Kev beside him, the warmth of his body and his scent, had a calming effect on him, easing the constant tension that coiled within him.

For once, Fang was more interested in the human at his side than in the minutiae of running his club. Normally, he would be pacing the floor, checking on the kitchen, inspecting the security checkpoint, ensuring every detail was perfect. But tonight, he was content to simply sit and observe, his focus shifting between the mesmerizing performance on the dance floor and the captivating presence of his new assistant.

He caught Dale's eye across the room and offered a lazy wave. The bartender, a knowing smile playing on his lips, nodded in acknowledgement and returned to his work, pouring drinks with his usual flair. Fang chuckled softly, a warmth spreading through him. It was a good night, a night of making exciting connections.

Fang raised a hand, catching the eye of one the VIP section's bouncers, a wiry-looking ferret man with sharp, observant eyes. "Hey, Twitch," Fang called out, his voice a low rumble that cut through the music. "Can you fetch Cindy?"

The ferret man nodded silently, his gaze sweeping across the crowd before disappearing into the throng.

"Cindy's the head of housekeeping," Fang explained to Kev. "She's responsible for keeping this place spotless, which is no small feat considering the... activities that go on here." He paused, a wry smile playing on his lips. "She might not be here yet, though. She usually doesn't show up until later."

Kev, having finished his meal, lit another cigarette, the smoke curling lazily upwards in the dim light. Emboldened by the relaxed atmosphere and the lingering warmth of Fang's arm around his shoulders, he decided to push his luck. "So," he said, a playful glint in his eyes, "do you want to dance?"

Fang chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not much for dancing, Kev," he admitted. "Besides, I need to keep an eye on things. Can't have the staff thinking it's okay to slack off just because the boss is having a good time."

Kev laughed, a light, carefree sound that echoed through the booth. "You started your day with a Bloody Mary," he pointed out, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "That's hardly setting a good example."

Fang's smile widened. "That's different," he retorted playfully. "Drinking on the job isn't against the rules. Dancing, on the other hand..." He trailed off, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

 Kev and Fang shared a laugh, the sound a welcome counterpoint to the usual cacophony of the club. The tension of the earlier encounters seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie.

"There's only one other manager you haven't met yet," Fang said, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "Lanon."

He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Lanon is in charge of... personal relations."

Kev's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Personal relations?" he echoed, unsure of what that entailed.

Fang cleared his throat, his gaze shifting momentarily. "Some of our clientele," he explained, "have... specific desires that they can't always fulfill on their own. Our club provides... certain services to cater to those needs."

Kev's eyes widened in understanding. He'd suspected as much, given the suggestive comments from Rex and the overall atmosphere of the club, the mention of private rooms, but hearing it confirmed by Fang made it all the more real. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about the idea that part of the business involved escorts, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Fang, sensing Kev's hesitation, added, "Lanon has an undeniable eye for talent. He ensures that our... physical therapists are not only skilled but also discreet and professional." He paused, a hint of pride in his voice. "We have a reputation to uphold, after all."

The ferret man, Twitch, reappeared at their table, his movements quick and efficient. "Cindy's on her way, boss," he reported, his voice a hushed whisper.

Fang nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Twitch," he said. "And while you're at it, could you also fetch Lanon for me? Tell him I'd like to introduce him to our new assistant."

Twitch's ears flattened against his head, a subtle sign of displeasure. It was clear he wasn't particularly fond of Lanon, but duty called. "Yes, boss," he replied, his wispy voice hard to hear over the background noise. He turned and made his way towards one of the closed doors on the far side of the bar, his movements slow and deliberate, as if bracing himself for an unpleasant encounter.

Fang, ever observant, noticed Twitch's reluctance. He made a mental note to address the apparent tension between the two staff members later. For now, he turned his attention back to Kev, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Cindy should be here any minute," he said, his voice filled with anticipation. "Mind your manners around her."

He raised a hand to flag down the waitress. "Darling," he called out, his voice carrying easily over the din of the club, "could you please let Dale know that Cindy's on her way? And tell him to make her a drink. Something strong."

The waitress, her feline features lit up by a playful grin, nodded eagerly. "Right away, Mr. Fang," she replied, disappearing into the crowd with a swish of her tail.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the crowd, drawing Kev's attention. It had to be Cindy, the head of housekeeping. She was an older, but striking, red deer woman, her slender frame and gentle features a stark contrast to the boisterous atmosphere of the club. Her attire was simple and practical, a far cry from the revealing outfits worn by many of the patrons. She seemed completely out of place in this den of hedonism, her presence radiating a quiet dignity that set her apart. Her auburn hair was neatly pulled back, and her large, doe eyes held a warmth and kindness that belied the demanding nature of her job.

As she approached the table, the waitress placed a tall glass of iced coffee with milk in front of her. "Thank you, dear," Cindy said, her voice soft and melodious, a stark contrast to the raucous sounds of the club. She took a delicate sip, her hands wrapped around the glass, savoring the cool, creamy beverage. Then, with a gentle smile, she looked up and greeted Fang. "Good evening, Fang," she said, her voice carrying a respectful warmth. "I hope you're having a pleasant evening."

"Doing just fine, Cindy," Fang replied, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "And you're looking as lovely as always."

Cindy's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, and she playfully swatted Fang's arm. "Oh, stop trying to butter me up, you sly wolf," she chided, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Her gaze shifted to Kev, and her expression softened. "Hello there," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Cindy, head of housekeeping. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kev shook her hand, his own smile mirroring hers. "Kev," he replied. "The pleasure's all mine."

"You must be the new assistant I've heard so much about," Cindy continued, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"I hope it's all good things," Kev said, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

"Neither good nor bad yet," Cindy replied with a shrug. "But you certainly seem to catch people's attention." She paused, her gaze lingering on Kev's features. "Did you say you were a… human? I've never had the pleasure of meeting one until now."

Fang's arm tightened around Kev's shoulders, a subtle display of possessiveness. "This lad is my good luck charm, Cindy," he declared, his voice brimming with pride. "I'm sure you've already heard the news."

Cindy nodded, her smile widening. "Indeed," she said. "I'm happy for you, Fang. It sounds like the business meeting went well."

Fang's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned closer to Kev, his voice dropping to a pride filled whisper. "The walls may not have ears, but the cleaners do," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Dale might have a good memory, but Cindy gets information from every one of her workers. No one seems to pay much attention to them cleaning or changing candles, but they do pay attention."

Kev's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't considered the possibility that the seemingly innocuous cleaning staff might be a valuable source of intelligence. It was a testament to Fang's shrewdness and his ability to leverage every resource at his disposal. "That's impressive," he admitted, a newfound respect for Cindy growing within him.

Cindy, having finished her coffee, stood up, a graceful motion that belied her weariness. "I'll see you in the morning before you sleep, Fang" she said, her voice soft but firm. "I'm still quite busy, so I must get back to my office."

She offered Kev a warm smile, her eyes filled with a newfound approval. "It looks, to me, like you're doing a great job so far," she said. "I'll tell the cleaners to be good to you."

Kev grinned. "I haven't done much yet," he protested, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice.

Cindy chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "This is the first time I've seen Fang sit still for such a long time," she observed, her gaze lingering on the two of them. "You must be doing something right."

With a final nod, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Kev to ponder her enigmatic words.