* * *
After having drinks, lap dances, and getting bits of information for over an hour and a half, the club manager visits our table.
“I hope you gentlemen have enjoyed the entertainment, but we’re closing early tonight.”
“Why’s that?” I ask, offering a friendly smile. A place like this doesn’t just happen to close early when it’s not even late yet.
“We’re having a private party,” the manager says. “A friend of the family has rented the club tonight for a bachelor party. Unfortunately, it’s by invitation only.”
As in, we’re getting our asses kicked out.
“Are you sure we can’t pay for a couple more hours? We’ll be discreet and keep to ourselves.” I yank out my wallet and reveal several crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
I don’t worry about Mikhail’s men recognizing me.
Maybe I should be concerned, but we’re in a corner booth in the back, the lights pointed toward the stage. In a dark corner of the club, we’re just two men enjoying the show.