Page 8 of Fool Me Twice
“Problem’s this way, Boss.”
“That wasn’t the problem?” Cane asked.
Ares grimaced again, nodding over to a guy lounging at one of the tables in the corner. He had a cigar hanging from his mouth, sunglasses on, scantily clad girls on each arm fawning all over him, and more girls and guys milling around the area, posing.
It wasn’t anything that stood out to Cane as weird. His clientele weren’t exactly run of the mill, so what if this guy looked like he’d come out of an old movie? The things that did catch his attention were the slates that were being exchanged and the very obvious way people were approaching and leaving with girls and guys to the bathrooms or shady spots.
Now Cane knew people traded in more than fights in his place. He usually overlooked it. But a guy thinking he could run shit under Cane’s nose was a completely different story.
“Motherfucker.”
“I don’t know who let him in,” Ares said.
“Well I know who’ll be seeing him out.” Cane stormed over to the table with Ares hot on his heels, getting pawed at by multiple sets of hands as soon as he was close.
It was like fighting an army of breasts and ass cheeks.
“Hey!” Cane yelled at the man across the low table. “Idiot!”
The guy peered over the rims of his shades. “Had a problem with one of the dolls, fella? I’m sorry. We don’t compensate for busting early. Take that up with your momma.”
What the fuck.
What the actual fuck.
“This is my fucking place, asshole. I’ll bust your face all over this table if you keep on talking, and then I’ll go visit your momma. How about that?”
The guy pouted. “Uncool, man. Very uncool.”
Cane had entered the fucking multiverse or something. This guy couldn’t be real. “Who the fuck let you in here?”
“There was no guy at the door, then I got inside and some other dude said I could do trade. So I set up shop,” the guy said easily.
The vein in Cane’s head was about to explode. There was no fucking way. “No one was on security?”
“Nah, fella.” He took a drag on his cigar. “Thought it was a bit strange, but to each his own.”
Cane’s head whipped around, expecting to find Ares ready to receive an order, but he was nowhere to be found. A ruckus to his left showed him fending off a woman who was trying to brain him with an eight-inch plastic stiletto, and behind him, the two fighters in the ring were…kissing?
Cane tried to make sense of it all. Tried to find an explanation. But nothing came.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON IN MY WAREHOUSE?!” he shouted.
A few people looked over at him.
“Bad night? I got a girl for that. Or a guy. Or both.”
Rage catching in his throat, Cane rushed to his office, slamming the door behind him and grabbing his phone. He stood against the tall glass overlooking the entire space, listening as the call went through.
“Candy Cane!”
Cane held the phone away from his ear, squeezing his eyes shut and reminding himself that one: the cursebreaker brought in a lot of money with his fights, and two: he was a fucking cursebreaker and people would notice if he went missing way too quickly for Cane to get away with it.
“I don’t need your shit right now,” he hissed.
“Why’d you call me then?” Ash asked, one of his damned lollipops rattling over his teeth as he spoke.
“The ring is cursed.”