New Story - again written exclusively on Steemit - WiP - Bouncer Part 7

I started a new story to share on Steemit. It's not my usual type of tale, but I decided it has legs so I'm going to let it run.

Meet Zack, my newest character. I hope you like him.

The first part was written a few weeks ago and since then, I've been mulling it over in my head where the story needs to go.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6

Pictures from Google free to use search

Please note: This is the FIRST DRAFT, no editing, written straight onto paper.

A little more than usual today, I seemed to have got caught up in the action... ;)

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With the tension in the room taken to below simmering point once more, Zack finally acknowledged his brother’s presence and wandered over to the bar.

Deb had a half-pint of orange juice (fresh, not dilute) waiting for him and he nodded to her as thank you. He picked up the glass and downed the contents without taking his eyes off the room and the activities.

The same girl that had asked for a taste of Taylor’s whisky leaned on the bar close to Zack and nudged him with her hip as she ordered a drink.

Taylor watched his brother’s reaction. Zack moved away from the proximity of the girl and as she turned toward the room after paying for her drink, he studiously ignored her. She said something to him but he shook his head without looking at her. She gave up and walked off, giving one long backward glance to the head doorman.

“What? You don’t like the talent?” Mikhail asked Zack when he finally got to the side of the bar where Taylor stood waiting.

“Not much actual talent tonight, Boss,” Zack said. He nodded toward the glass in Taylor’s hand. “I suppose you’ve dropped your car off at home and you want a lift?”

“You’re half-right. I need a lift, but my car’s out back,” Taylor said.

“You mean you’re asking me to drive your car?” Zack said, pantomiming astonishment. His eyes widened and the tips of his fingers rested on his chest. “I’m… I’m overwhelmed at this show of trust in my driving abilities, suddenly.”

“Don’t get sarcastic,” Taylor said. “I had a drink with the Russians and I forgot to order juice when I got here because you decided to put on a floor show for me.”

“It’s my fault you’re over the limit for driving?” Zack said. His eyes crinkled in a grin. “You’re gonna owe me big-style for this favour.”

“I think driving my car will be adequate payment, brother,” Taylor said, his grin matching his brother’s.

The girl that had been vying for Zack’s attention came back. She studied the brothers, one hand on her hip, the other holding the bottle she’d just bought at the bar. “Are you two related?” she asked in all seriousness.

“No,” the brothers said together.

The girl looked at them both side by side. She tilted her head sideways as she studied the brothers. After a minute or more, she finally said, “Well you look like each other.” And walked away.

Mikhail shook his head as the brothers started laughing after she was out of earshot.

“You boys,” he said. “You’re more like big kids.”

“You have to take entertainment where you can find it, Mikhail,” Taylor said.

Mikhail nodded at the words of wisdom and walked away. Zack wondered what had prompted the boss to venture down from his office so early in the night. He usually took a nightcap around half an hour before the club closed and then he brought his goons with him. Zac saw no goons and then wondered what else was different.

Nothing more kicked off that night and Taylor waited for his brother to finish work. Deb cleaned down the bar area and left before the last punter. Taylor watched from the bar, the dimmed lights in the bar and the raised lights in the room itself making it easier to see everything.

A coat and bag lay on the floor beside one of the tables. It would have been tucked out of sight while the lights were down, but it was plain to see when the perimeter lights came up.

Zack spoke into his radio. “Catch that last group, one of them has left a bag here and it’ll need to be claimed tomorrow if they don’t fetch it now,” he said.

A girl ran back into the room. She didn’t seem drunk – at least not as drunk as her friends had been. As she ran onto the dance floor to the table her group had occupied all evening, her foot hit a wet patch on the smooth surface and it slipped to one side, tipping her violently to the other side. She sprawled across the dance floor, palms reaching out, knees and hip slamming against the hard floor.

Zack winced. He walked over to help up the stricken girl. She sat with her hands over her face, elbows on her knees. The liquid on the floor had not only made the surface slippery, it had loosened the dirt and the girl’s legs were smeared with grime, in much the same way as the guy’s face had been, earlier. She was more fortunate, however. There were no shards of glass sticking out of her flesh.

“Oh you clumsy fucking cow!” a voice from the doorway yelled at her.

Zack helped her up and walked with her to fetch her bag.

“Are you ok?” he said, glancing at her.

“Yeah, and before you make an observation, that dumbass is dumped. He’s waiting for me to take him home and… well… fuck him,” she said. She looked up at Zack, her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Zack spoke into the radio. “Get that joker out of the club. The girl has to identify her bag before I’ll let her take it and I don’t know how long it’s going to take.