MR. MORENO'S SURROGATE ✔️

22 - Elijah

I fix my tux as I get out of my car at the back of my club. Lust is the name of the nightclub that I own. It makes good money, and part of the reason is because people come here to get drunk and fuck the strippers until they go unconscious or pass out from how much they drink. The only reason I ever come to the club is to handle business, or drown my sorrows in pussy or drinks. Whichever comes first. Of course now that I'm supposed to be married, I've put those days behind me, not for her sake, but mine. I have no intention of listening to her blabber on about how bad of a person I am for fucking someone else.

I don't know why I've ever attempted to do it with her. Since day one, she's always been a loudmouth and upfront person with her emotions, meaning she's not shy when it comes to expressing the way she feels. Plus she likes to argue, and I that's definitely a part of the reason I've never tried to. At first it was intimidating, now it's just goddamn annoying.

I walk in and immediately, there's a shift in atmosphere. It smells like pussy and alcohol in here and the music is so loud, I can feel it thumping throughout my body. I've left Cayson to whatever he's doing in the club, and I guarantee that it involves drinking and sex. Not only is my brother wildly irresponsible, he's also a sex maniac. He's slick with his wordplay and I have no doubt that the women he flirts with always drop to their knees if he so much as breathes in their direction.

I take the elevator at the other end of the club up to the second floor, which is the VIP section of the club. This room is slightly bigger with private dancing rooms, a bar, stripper poles everywhere, and one big stage in front. In some ways, it's just like downstairs, but it's the reason the club has its name in the first place. This room has magenta-like fluorescent lights that make the room's vibe come alive when you walk into it. This is the room where everything happens, the drunk sex, the fights, everything. You have no idea how many fights have broken out over the women these men fuck on a daily basis.

As I make my way to the bar for my usual drink, my phone rings. I'm tempted to decline when I see that it's Daro, but I pick up anyway.

"What, now." I ask, annoyed by the conversation already.

"Where are you? We have business you handle at your home." he says, scolding me.

But no one gets to push me over, so I rebuttal. "You know business gets handled at my club. I'm here now, so bring it here." I say, taking a sip of the Patrón in my cup.

"Elijah, this is serious. It's about the girl."

"And what makes you think that would make it any more urgent?"

"Bring your fucking ass. End of discussion."

He hangs up the phone and I groan, downing the last bit of tequila and swallowing it, ignoring the burning sensation in my throat from it. What the fuck can be so important about that brat that I can't escape my problems for five fucking minutes?

As I walk back out, I look for Cayson, and I finally find him sitting on a couch, drinking while he getting his dick grinded on.

"Cays, put your dick up and let's go. We're leaving." I say, throwing him a towel and looking away as he groans in frustration.

"We just got here. What's this about anyway?" he asks, picking up the stripper on his lap and taking her off him.

"My wife. We need to get moving." I say reluctantly.