Chapter 22: The Bored Billionaire
Liam stepped into the Night Rose with the air of a man entering a funeral rather than a high-end gentleman's club. David walked beside him, his eyes scanning the room with professional alertness, though his posture was relaxed. To Liam, the neon lights were too bright, the music was too loud, and the smell of desperation was too thick. He had only agreed to come because David insisted he needed to "see how the other half lives" after the disastrous dinner with Sandra.
"Relax, Liam," David shouted over the bass, leading him toward a reserved VIP booth that overlooked the main stage. "You've been acting like a monk for three years. Just have one drink. Watch one show. If you hate it, we leave in twenty minutes." Liam sat down, his tailored suit jacket unbuttoned, looking entirely out of place among the rowdy businessmen and high-rollers. He ordered a neat scotch and stared at the empty stage with a bored, clinical detachment. He had seen the posters outside for the "Girl in Red," but he expected just another girl in cheap sequins trying too hard to please men who didn't care about her name. To him, this was just another business transaction, and a poorly managed one at that.
Backstage, the atmosphere was chaotic. Eliana was supposed to make her grand debut, but the stress of the past few weeks, the lack of sleep, and the sheer terror of the upcoming performance had finally broken her body. She lay on the small sofa in the dressing room, her skin pale and clammy, a high fever burning through her. Anita hovered over her with a damp cloth, her face etched with worry. "You can't go out there like this, Eli. You'll faint before you even reach the pole."
Anita went to find Chief, the manager, to break the news. The "Girl in Red" would not be appearing tonight. The disappointment in the club was palpable when the MC announced that the headline act was "unavoidably absent." Liam, sipping his scotch, felt a strange sense of vindication. Typical, he thought. Build up the mystery only to fail on the delivery. He watched the other dancers with a glazed expression. They were beautiful, certainly, but they moved with a mechanical precision that lacked soul. He was just about to signal David that he was ready to leave when he saw a familiar face approaching their booth.