New Story - again written exclusively on Steemit - WiP - Bouncer Part 35

This is turning out to be quite a tale (I know, my opinion...) and I think it'll make a novel-sized story.

I'm listening to the feedback and if something resonates, I've decided that I'll go with it (thanks @kiwideb).

Feel free to give feedback on characters, storylines etc - even if you think it's harsh.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 34

Pictures from Google free to use search

Please note: This is the FIRST DRAFT, no editing, written straight onto paper. I don't know how to highlight that any more than it is. I'll NOT be making any alterations to what's already been written. As a good friend and excellent author has said, First draft is a race to get the story down before it decides to stop telling itself to you. Thanks Glenn. @alienbutt

78 pages, 30,960 words so far.

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Liz led the way to her office and sat at her desk. Anthony stood at the door and as soon as Zack and Taylor followed the girl in, he closed it behind him as he left.

Zack placed the camera, lens and memory cards on the desk and stood waiting to see how Liz handled the situation.

She glared at the girl and suddenly the bravado and cockiness drained from the girl’s face.

“No police then?” she said in an attempt to save face, a sardonic sneer on her lips. Zack looked at the girl’s attitude and realised she was putting on a hefty front. The sneer was forced, the folded arms an effort.

“They’re downstairs waiting to see how this goes,” Liz said.

“Oh,” the girl said, her sneer evaporating and her arms dropping to her sides.

“Tell me who let you in, why you’re here and then how much you’re going to grovel to one of my valued staff members for injuring him, and I may hold off the more severe charges,” Liz said. “Otherwise, they can take you and throw the book at you for all I care and believe me, Mr Vasilyevich will make sure all charges not only stick, but are carried out to the fullest extent of the law.”

“My friend here is a cleaner, she said which window would be on the latch and I’ve been here since this afternoon,” the girl said without needing a moment to think.

“Name?”

“Mine or hers?”

“Both,” Liz said and looked up at the girl. Her eyes glinted with barely-disguised anger and the girl gulped.

When the girl had given her friend’s name and the name of the cleaning company so Liz knew she was at least telling the truth, Liz tapped her pen on her desk in her impatience.

“Name,” she said, demanding rather than asking.

“Nyx Marlowe,” the girl said.

“Is that a real name or a nickname?” Liz said. She tapped on the keyboard of her computer and the screen blinked as it changed from the search engine to a website.

“It’s my real name,” the girl said. Her head down, she looked defeated.

“You’re taking a media degree with a special interest in photography at Nottingham University,” again, not a question.

The girl looked up, surprised and annoyed at the same time. “Hey, how can you find that information?” she said, indignant.

Liz looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re questioning me about ethical practices?” she said.

Liz studied the computer screen for a few minutes.

“You’re not doing bad,” she said. “I suppose you were going to sell the pictures you got – before you got caught, of course?”

“Yeah, that was the plan,” Nyx said in a sulky tone.

“Head up when you’re talking to me,” Liz snapped at the girl.

Nyx jerked her head up. She didn’t glare at Liz, she was more respectful and perhaps that’s what saved her bacon.

Liz studied her for a moment.

“Keep out of the way this evening. Take pictures, but not in the VIP lounge, got it?” Liz said. She waited for a confirming nod. “Tomorrow, you dress smart. Trendy and fashionable, but smart, and you’re here half an hour before the doors open. If I find out you keep any pictures back, I’ll have you arrested on the spot and I’ll find something to charge you with. Do you believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you,” Nyx said.

“Good. You’ll work here whenever the club is open and if any pictures are good enough for the media, you’ll be allowed to sell them and keep the proceeds. I’ll pay you £500 a week for five nights. If we have a special occasion, I’ll pay you double as long as the pictures are as good as you deliver on your page, here,” Liz said and turned the screen to Nyx so she could see Liz had got through to her private web site where she kept all her pictures for her course work.

“How did you get through the firewall?”

“They always ask me that,” Liz said. “Get your gear and set up. I want pictures of the queues, the ‘beautiful people’ and the festivities. Every bottle of Champagne, every slip, trip and mishap and all the smiles and laughter. I especially want images of the cage dancers.”

Nyx picked up her kit and Zack opened the door for her.

“You think she’ll stick around?” Taylor asked.

“Looks like it,” Liz said, pointing to one of the CCTV monitors which showed Nyx stashing her coat and bag and rigging up her camera equipment.

“I’d better let Joe know she’s going to be around for a while. Just to make sure he doesn’t see her and wring her neck,” Zack said.

“Send him to me,” Liz said. “I’ll explain.”

Zack looked at Liz, she had a different look about her, more mature, less likely to take bullshit, and he nodded.