Baby for Mr. Blake

Chapter 11

Tuesday, 6 June 2017 – Joshua

Skylar is laying on the cold floor. The once grey cement floor appears burgundy underneath her. Her screams are muffled by an evil laugh. I want to punch the guy laughing, but I cannot find him. She reaches out a hand to me begging for help. My hand moves to her shoulder and I push her back to the ground. In the pools of blood surrounding her I see my reflection and find the laughing man.

I leap from the bed and fall to the ground, stumbling in the linen wrapped around me. I curse and shout trying to untangle myself, but the material sticks to my sweaty body. I free myself and make my way to the bathroom to wash my face.

Atlanta has sparked the nightmares, intensifying them, it irritates me even more. My attempt to distract myself from her was worthless. I pull on my sweats and head to the streets. Block after block I push myself harder extending my limits. People are still rustling about even through it is two in the morning.

I trust my feet to guide me as I continue with the rhythm that they bring while hitting the sidewalk. I make my way past a group of young adults their drunken laughter reminds me of my own careless days. Distracted I stagger over a pair of feet of the couple sitting on the step, as they argue and voice their worry about their next meal.

In my slower pace I take a moment and look across the street. I gasp in surprise when I see the name Club Ortloff written above the entrance. I make my way to the door and see that the club is closed on Monday's, it explains the lack of activity, but places a bigger question mark on the money Crow Holdings receives from them.

I walk around the building in a hope that I would somehow find my answers sooner and be done with this city. The large bins in the alley is filled with empty bottles, cigarette buds and standard trash. Nothing seems out of place. Behind the one bin is a small door leading into the club and it is slightly ajar.

I enter and call a greeting, but no one calls back. I walk through the club, nothing seems out of place. The interior is modern and inviting each floor is showcased with a magnificent glass floor balcony. I close my eyes and envision party-goers looking out to the dance floor with a cocktail in hand.

I make my way to the top floor studying each part and call a 'Hello' as I walk pass. The top floor is richly decorated with black leather booths each accentuated by a glass chandelier. To the side of the bar is a narrow passage.

"Hello?" I call again and realize that I could have done serious damage to this club in the time I have been here. I hear the sound of a door opening and closing down the narrow passage.

"Can I help you?" asks the man as he enters the area.

"I am Joshua Blake, looking for the owner."

"That is me, Mr. Ortloff, I heard you were in town and wondered when I would make your acquaintance." There was an evil grin on his face.

"I hope then that you would be clever enough and answer me truthfully where the money comes from that your Club pays to Crow Holdings"

I start to walk down the narrow passage, determined to find an answer. He follows behind me at a quickened pace explaining how the club is very popular with a unique alcoholic range. In attempt to halt my action he grabs onto my shoulder as I open the door to the private office.

"Mr. Ortloff, do you think I am an idiot?" I grab onto my phone when I smell it. The unmistakable smell of blood hangs in the room. It was clear that he did not want me to enter the office and now, I know why. I move my fingers over the phone in my pocket hoping that from memory I would be able to open my dial and call 911.