WE APPROACH A RICKETY SIGN THAT READS 'CAVERNOUS' perched on top of two skinny white polls in the middle an old ghost town. Just past the sign sits a small dumpy dive bar with a huge set of bullhorns towering over the entrance—a far cry from the yacht and Marina Del Rey. The worn yellow and black paint is chipped all over the building and the bullhorns look like something out of a taxidermist's nightmare. This is where he took me to celebrate? This can't be the club Steve was talking about.
We continue around to the back of the bar where to my dismay, dozens of high-end vehicles are parked orderly on a dirt lot. The place must be packed and I can't imagine why.
Modeus parks his bike next to three other custom bikes and kicks down the stand.
I remove my helmet and try not to act disappointed. "I don't believe I've ever been here."
"I'm sure you haven't. This is the club Steve was talking about."
"It's our club—me and my brothers—the band. Do you like it?"
I quickly re-gander at the place and smile superficially. "Uh, huh."
Modeus chuckles. "Come on. It's not what you think."
Looking at the place I doubt that, but I politely smile and grab his hand anxiously waiting to accompany me inside.
The smell of old beer and cigarette butts is pungent as we walk into the bar. The décor screams of the old west with wooden furniture and worn down rugs.
I feel my brow furrow. "I don't understand? The parking lot in the back is full."
As if predicting my response, his eyes relax with ease. "I will show you soon enough. Let's get a drink."
The bar in the back is empty except for a small chunky man standing behind it wearing jeans and a bright red t-shirt with black writing that reads: 'The Rapture Is Coming.'
The chunky man smiles at us as we approach. "Good afternoon sir. Might I call down for you?"
Modeus nods. "Good afternoon Frank. No, not just yet, I want to get my lady a drink first. We're celebrating."
Frank courteously nods and grabs two crystal scotch glasses from behind him and sets them down in front of us. He then grabs what looks like a very old vintage bottle of scotch and pours.
From the corner of my eye, I see Modeus watching me.
"Your mind is spinning right now isn't it?" Modeus asks.
"Yes, quite fast actually. What did he mean call down?"
Modeus slides my glass to me. "Here, sip slowly. It's not the sake from Nobu, but I'm sure you'll like it."
I grab the glass and bring it to my nose. The aroma is sweet and strong. I slowly take a sip and although I am sure I did not go hard on the glass, the power of the drink causes me to heave forward and cough.
"You alright?" Modeus asks.
I clear my throat and raise the glass to my eyes. "What the hell is this drink?"
"It's a very old scotch. I know it's strong." Modeus takes the rest from his glass and slams it on the bar. "But it's good."
I raise my eyebrow and proceed to do the same. I shoot the spirit back and hold onto the bar for dear life as my chest burns. "Wow. That's some strong stuff."
"You look stunning in that outfit by the way," Modeus says with a gleam in his eye.
Anxiety washes over me and I look down. "Why did you do that?"
YOU ARE READING
Condemned (Paranormal Romance) CompletedRomance
Brenda Summers, a telepathic A&R Rep., from a successful indie record label struggles to be noticed under the shadow of her boss Freddy Cartwright, an ex-motocross champion with whom she is having a torrid workplace affair. Brenda gets her chance to...