The Wright Way

Chapter 5 - The Wright Way

"The barmen hasn't arrived yet, but for you, I can personally mix something."

The man's name is Michael Brooks. I expected of an owner of a gay night club to be gay himself, but the way he flirts with Kendra suggests otherwise. On the other hand, perhaps it's his way to try and help his business pass the inspection. It's not working too well.

"Drop it," says Kendra, looking around the shadowy hall with tables and upturned chairs.

"Seriously, I can. I started as a bartender. Haven't I told you?" He grins at her. His toothy smile combined with his tanned skin and black curls makes him look like a pirate.

"Only every time we meet."

"So, what do you like? 'Margarita'? 'Rusty Nail?' How about 'Sex on the Beach'?"

"Why are those sacks blocking the back exit?"

"Oh, they've just been delivered." He waves dismissively. "The guys haven't arrived yet to put them in the kitchen. You know what, I'll drag them there myself." He rolls up his sleeves. "See what you make me do?"

Unperturbed, Kendra walks on, as I trail behind her. I'm not sure what I expected to find here, but the place looks like nothing unusual, just a big hall where people come to eat and dance.

We go downstairs. A short corridor leads to a couple of doors with a restroom sign above them. Apart from some blurry art pieces decorating the walls, there's nothing interesting in it. To the left, a few steps lead further down, past the 'Personnel Only' sign on the wall. I follow Mr. Brooks and Kendra down there and find myself in yet another corridor with four metallic doors, two on each side. Kendra presses the handle and peeks into the first one.

"A storage room," says Mr. Brooks. "As usual, nothing to look at."

"As usual, you've got the cleaning supplies all over the place." She gestures at the racks with bottles. "Haven't we talked about a fireproof closet?"

"This whole room is a fireproof closet." He knocks on the metallic door.

"It's not sealed hermetically, right?" She scowls at him. "Mr. Brooks, I don't think you're taking this seriously."

"I'm taking this very seriously." His flirtatious manner is gone now, and he visibly struggles to contain his annoyance. "It just feels like you're picking on insignificant things."

"They could be very significant in case of a fire."

He shrugs. "It's all insured, you know." He gestures around and smiles, then gets abruptly serious under her gaze. "Just kidding, of course. My patrons' safety is my main concern. All will be fixed."

"You could have saved both mine and your time by fixing things before I come here," she says, continuing along the corridor. "These are not surprise visits, you know."

He rolls his eyes at me behind her back. I try for a neutral expression. If Kendra is this confrontational with all the owners of the places she inspects, I can understand why Lagana insists on sending a bodyguard with her.

We step into the next room. I expect more racks with supplies, but when Kendra flicks the switch, I see what looks like a small apartment. There's a make-up table with bulb lamps along its perimeter, a table with a couple of plates on it and even a bed with what I first take for a roll of blankets. Then, the roll suddenly moves, sliding off the bed and to the floor.

"Crap!" Kendra cries out, backing away, nearly stepping on my foot.

"What the hell?" The blanket unwraps, revealing a man on the floor. He looks at us and I see a familiar, if unexpected, face. "Who're you?"

"What?" Mr. Brooks edges past us into the room, and stops there, his hands on his hips. "Joshua, get the fuck out!"

"You get the fuck out." The figure on the floor gathers himself up and sits up on the bed again, blinking at us sleepily. He's wearing a black polo shirt and jeans, and his hair is a mess. I notice the familiar black coat hanging from a rack in the corner. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Joshua, I told you," Mr. Brooks says through his teeth. "The fire inspection."

"Terrific," says Joshua. "Dear fire inspection, could you do something about the heating? Because it doesn't work. I'm sick of sleeping with my clothes on."

"Excuse me?" Kendra turns to the Mr. Brooks. "Does this man sleep here on a regular basis?"

"Absolutely not. It's our performer, just taking a nap before the evening show." He looks at Joshua. "And if he wants to remain employed, he'll gather his shit immediately and go home, right?"

"Right," says Joshua, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from under his pillow. He gets up and wraps one of the blankets around his shoulders like a cloak, then heads in our direction and stops in front of me.

"Do you have a light?" he says.

I blink, surprised. Mike was right when saying that my keeping quiet often leads people to act if I'm not there. His addressing me directly knocks me out of balance.

He waits patiently, his large grey eyes on me—seeing me for the first time.

"No," I hear myself say. "I don't smoke."

"Are you trying to tell me he smokes in here?" Kendra's shrill voice breaks our eye contact. Joshua turns to look at her.

"Do you sing?" he says. "You have a strong voice."

Not waiting for an answer, he brushes past me into the corridor. Surprising myself, I step out after him, leaving behind the increasing sounds of Kendra and Mr. Brooks' argument.

"Hey," I say.

He stops and turns, the pack of cigarettes in one hand, the other keeping in place the blanket around his shoulders, a strand of uncombed hair covering one eye.

"Yes?"

"Do you actually live here?"

His eyebrows go briefly up before his face settles back to its neutral expression.

"You have a problem with that?" He blows the unruly strand away from his eye, but it returns right back. "Apart from the fire hazard?"

I shrug. "I mean, when the club is closed... isn't it unsafe, to be here alone?"

"No." He gives a one shoulder shrug. "In fact, that's the only time when it's safe." He grins at me. "Also, you can save a shitload of money by not having to pay rent."

With that, he pops an unlit cigarette into his mouth and walks away, the blanket swinging behind him like a king's cape.