Personal Demon by Kelley Armstrong Read Free Book Online

sickening blend of perfume and sweet drinks and hastily wiped up vomit. If you’re not in the mood, it can seem like the ninth pit of Hell, but you still can’t deny the life of it. Walking through this club now was like creeping through a cemetery.
    My footsteps and voice didn’t echo through the cavernous emptiness, but were swallowed by top-notch acoustics. Emergency lighting was the only illumination, too dim to even cast shadows. The overamped air-conditioning raised goose bumps on my arms and legs. The smell of cleaning chemicals barely covered the mildew from drinks spilled on the carpeted upper level. The only sound was the slow thump-thump-thump of music in a distant room, thudding like a dying heart.
    Bianca was saying something ahead of me.
    “Sorry. I missed that.”
    “I said crew members don’t officially work in the club, but you could be called on to serve drinks or help behind the bar if we’re short-staffed. Everyone’s expected to do their part. Is that okay with you?”
    I could tell by Bianca’s tone—friendly but firm—that this wasn’t open to negotiation.
    “Can’t say I’ve ever waited tables, but there’s a first time for everything.”
    “Good. Rodriguez is our tech guy and he’ll set you up with an untraceable cell phone. You’re expected to carry it at all times. If Guy wants you here, he wants you here now, whether it’s 2 a.m. or lunchtime.”
    “Got it.”

    “You’re expected to check in every day at five. He might not have anything for you, but he wants to see every face. So if you meet some hot Miami millionaire who asks you to join him for a three-day yacht trip to the Bahamas, the answer is no. Don’t even ask Guy. It’ll just piss him off.”
    “Got it.”
    “Speaking of hot millionaires, you’ll be expected to hang out at the club and make them feel welcome.
    And, no, that doesn’t include sleeping with them. Sometimes we pick a mark, ask you to get some information.
    Other times you’ll just be hanging out, dancing, having fun and convincing people that this club is the place to be.”
    “Got it.”
    She motioned me to a booth under an emergency light. “A few final things before we meet Guy, and these are the ones you really need to pay attention to, so let’s take a seat.”
    She waved at the room. “You’re probably thinking that despite all these rules and responsibilities, this is a pretty sweet setup. But I’m warning you now, Faith, that if you’re into the club scene, this is like being in a candy store with no money. I said we don’t expect you to sleep with the patrons. Change that to ‘you aren’t allowed to.’ No sleeping with them, no dating them, no giving them your number. You’re limited to one drink a night, just so your breath will smell like booze. After that, you’ll still order drinks but you’ll be served soda and virgin cocktails. While you are here in the club, you’ll be the model patron. If Guy so much as catches you smoking in the bathroom, your ass is on the line. If you do drugs, stop now. I don’t just mean while you’re here either. Guy expects you to be ready to roll at any moment.”
    “Harsh.” None of it mattered to me—I wasn’t about to get loaded and sleep with strangers—but I suspected Faith wouldn’t be as straitlaced.
    “That’s the way Guy runs things. We have to stay under the radar. You can’t get cozy with the marks. You can’t get us investigated for breaking smoking bylaws. You can’t get wasted and blow a job. We run this place squeaky clean on the outside. It keeps people from looking too closely.” She smiled. “I tell Guy he should have been a drill sergeant, but the guy’s a goddamn genius at this. He’ll make you work your ass off, but if you stick it out, the rewards are pure honey.”
    From the way Bianca’s eyes glittered every time she said Guy’s name, I could tell she was no impartial judge.
    “So, are you ready to meet your new boss?”

    HOPE: THE FACE OF AN