Free Last Call by M.S. Brannon Page B

alongside the brick building and come to the back. I round the corner and see a door, probably an employee entrance. I take notice of the cars lined up in the back. The Escalade is the only luxury car, and my gut tells me it’s his. He’s here, staring down at his kingdom, and I will storm the walls of his castle to give him a piece of my mind.
    I walk to the door and try the knob, finding it unlocked—sweet! I twist the knob and creep in the heavy, metal door, slowly shutting it behind me in an attempt not to make any noise. Once inside, I start walking toward the clamor of the bar. I’m not sure where this hallway takes me; as a result, I walk carefully, looking for my way in. Then I can blend in with the crowd and find my way to his office.
    I take a right turn and find a door where the loud music is coming from. I decide to follow my gut and open it, finding it leads me to the hallway where the restrooms are. I walk down the hall and merge my way into the crowd. The place is packed, wall-to-wall with people. I shimmy my way through the slightly open spaces and make my way to the bar area where I spot the staircase.
    Unfortunately, there’s a bouncer standing at the foot of the stairs and it’s the only way to get me to my destination. Fuck! How the hell am I going to get by this guy? He’s all man and muscle. His arms are as large as tree trunks, and he stands a good foot taller than me.
    I make my way to the side and decide to wait him out, leaning up against the wall. The couple located at the table next to me is too busy making out to notice when I snag the bottle of beer off their table and turn my back to them. It’s slightly warm, but it will do just enough to calm my nerves.
    “Hey, where did my beer go?” the man says, looking at the girl, confused. He’s the quintessential tool with a fake, ridiculous tan, way too much product in his hair, and overly large muscles; one of those “Jersey Shore” wannabes. He probably spends more time getting ready than I do.
    I hatch a plan and take this as the opportunity to cause a diversion.
    “That guy… over there”—I point in the direction behind him—“walked up and stole it from your table.”
    The tool looks to the girl and gets pissed, puffing out his chest like a damn peacock and slamming his fists on the table. The next thing I know, he’s confronting a man with a striped shirt. What a dumbass. As the fight ensues, the bouncer guarding the stairs pursues. I take my only opportunity to go undetected and head for the stairs. I keep myself to the side, and as quickly and quietly as I can, I ascend the steps.
    When I reach the top, I’m out of view of the others down below, but I have one of three doors to try. I can’t remember which door was his office. I was in a drunken, excited daze Saturday night, knowing which door was his being the last thing on my mind.
    I open the first one and see the room is vacant. It’s a meeting room with ten leather chairs surrounding a table, its walls and fixtures white and chrome. I quietly close the door and move farther down the small hallway to the next door. I turn the knob and hold it in my hand. Will he be alone when I walk through the door? I really hope I don’t see him banging some other chick when he nearly just got done fucking me. However, he’s an asshole, so I wouldn’t put it past him.
    I take the opportunity to think about that. It pisses me off. Good! That’s the kind of rage I need right now. My mind gets muddy when I’m in his presence, and if I’m going to take any kind of stand against this fucking asshole, I need to have my wits about me.
    I take a couple of deep breaths and then storm my way into the door. And there he is, the king staring down at his kingdom, and he’s just been invaded.
     
     
     
    J ason
    The fight gets my attention when I glance up at my security cameras, which prompts me to go to the window. I’m looking down on where Mikey is pulling a couple of guys apart when