Dangerously Close

1.

California!

When you hear the name of America's most popular state, what comes to mind? Celebrities? Theme Parks? Shopping? Historical sites? If you're not into the popular tourist vibes, what about off-beat routes where ghost stories lay. You know they are a lot to be mentioned in that state.

Hmmm?!!!

How about the food and the beaches? What about the places one dreams to visit? Let's mention two. Los Angeles and Hollywood. You've seen them in magazines, online blogs in the news, heck even in catchy songs dating back to the fifties or maybe later.

For some, California is one of the most picked states for small-town kids to rush for big city life. The big-name colleges attract them, better job opportunities, and the dream to become a star. Thousands either run away from home or in the position as this young man presently. Sitting at the back of the cab that smelled like sweat, cigars, and old food, he tugged at the new jacket he received an hour ago and glanced at his companion. After a year of doing errands, this was his first job trying to get closer to the big boss. This chance at earning cash without any long working hours was a golden ticket for him. He will be paid five grand for simply visiting this new club, even though he had a 'co-worker' that pay won't be split up. 

"This isn't a fucking field trip. Do what you're ordered to do," the man beside him grumbled.

"Okay. Yeah." The low country accent tinge his voice, giving away he was not a local. 

The cab driver came to a stop at the address they gave him. Unfortunately, the club they were sent to check out was on the other side of the street. Other cabs were offloading passengers while a few luxury cars pulled up with designated valets attending to them promptly. 
Their driver whistled at the sight before him, then took a peek at the stately three-floor building. 
"Whoever purchased this old place put in some work. A night club huh? Looks like one of those extremely posh places. You boys, be careful and don't step on those rich folks' toes," the man said.

"Thanks."

Both men clambered out of the car and stood on the sidewalk, surveying the club.

This was Pasadena, and old Victorian buildings like this were either remodeled or left as historical sites. 
The club kept the cream color of the brick building and large windows that were now tinted. The perimeter of the club had soft-colored lights glowing against the walls. The architecture was clear to the eye; imposing, elegant, romantic, luxurious were words to describe the building. The name of the club was Le Desir, aptly named. The name was French for lust, longing, and craving. It was stenciled on metal in a beautiful font with soft red and pink lights behind it, showing every guest how beautiful the building was and giving them the urge to go in. Though they were visiting, the young man couldn't help but give in to the feeling of being pulled into a trance. He crossed the street and joined the queue to enter. There was no pushing or wild behavior from the crowd like other clubs; they all stood calmly, speaking amongst themselves; that's when he noticed the similarities. Everyone was dressed either in semi-formal or sophisticatedly casual. He now understood why his boss had him dress this way and gave him a quick lesson in speaking politely. 

This was no ordinary club.

Six months ago, it was opened with big names in the society and the underworld (for those who know) on their guest list. After a month of their opening, they welcomed the general public. So many rumors began to circulate about Le Desir, and it caused a significant shift on the streets. Their boss was one of the few who were annoyed by this and had been trying to figure out who was the owner and what family they were working for. It was clear that the family backing behind the club owner has a lot of power—the renovation and strength to have this effect on the public.