A/N: Warning, music video accompanying this chapter potentially very offensive and highly inappropriate for young people (it's Steel Panther that is to be expceted), don't like that sort of thing don't watch it, and don't say I didn't warn you.

 The last figure finally wandered away from the bar, drink in hand, and Alex turned to me; a broad grin plastered on his slender face.

 “Right then, cigarette break time. You want to go first tonight or shall I?” he asked.

 My eyes had trailed back to the performers on the stage, the waif had attracted quite a crowd as she swirled, tantalisingly around her pole – the sweet and innocent look appealed to so many men. What I needed was a chance to speak with her, point her in Shane's direction and give him the chance to lay on his advances. From the length of time they'd been dancing I wagered that these three girls had at least another ten minutes left on the stage before the next change over. Once she'd just finished dancing would be the ideal time for me to catch her.

 I grinned, perhaps a little too enthusiastically given the slightly surprised look that fell over Alex's face as I turned my attention back to him.

 “No, you go first today. You started earlier than I did after all,” I said to him, encouragingly. By the time he got back from his break the waif would be done with her dance session and I could, hopefully, catch her during my free ten minutes. A win win situation all round.

 “You sure? You seem kind of distracted tonight. There something you're not telling me?” he asked with a grin. But still Alex grabbed his coat and started to dig around in his pockets for the packet of cigarettes he always managed to keep so well hidden.

 I cocked my head to one side and smirked at him. “Since when have I not been hiding something from you Alex? We all know that it's you who does the talking in our relationship,” I replied.

 Alex had no following response, perhaps he was just keen to get outside and get his fix of nicotine, he merely shook his head and poked the butt of his cigarette between his lips. He was the only one of us that actually used our few minute interval breaks to smoke – my human blood meant I was still susceptible to the same diseases, unlike my pureblood kin – but I was not about to decline the ten minute break when it was offered; and that it could prove to be most useful.

 Without further prompting, Alex slipped out from behind the bar and hurried towards the exit. I watched his back as he walked, a long and awkward gait to his steps – he really was far too tall for the lack of bulk his body held as if he'd been stretched too far on a rack. It was only when he'd slipped out through the door and into the alleyway that I turned my attention back to the bar.

 I almost jumped out of my skin when my eyes met with a muddy brown pair belonging to an ageing customer as he brandished a pint glass in my direction. It seemed beer was more important to this guy than the show, or, I supposed, there was a chance that none of the girls currently dancing were to his taste; it happened on occasion.

 “Another pint of the draught bitter when you're ready love,” he said. A note of impatience coloured the deep, gravelly tone of a voice tortured by too many cigars.

 Nodding, I plucked the glass out of his grizzled fingers and started to pump the handle, making a steady stream of beer flow from the tap into the glass. The deep brown liquid rose to overflowing, a light dusting of foam at its head, and I set the glass onto the bar in front of the many. A steady stream of foam and condensation trickled down the sides of the glass, soaked the new beermat and added to the collection of sticky drips that decorated the dark wooden surface.

 “That'll be two-forty please,” I said in a flat, bored tone. Conversing with the punters was not a part of my job description, decision I had come to myself, I would serve them beer to keep up appearances but I wouldn't allow myself to be distracted with small talk and people. Especially not when I was so close to success.

 He slid a five pound note across the soiled bar towards me. “Cheer up love, it might never happen.”

 An expression of disdain fell over my face and I rolled my eyes, I really hated that expression. I snatched up the money, jabbed at some buttons on the till and dug out the coins in change before I turned back to the man wearing a smirk.

 “On the contrary. I hope, very much, that it does happen.”

 I handed him his change as a confused frown descended on his brow. He opened his mouth for a moment, as if pondering whether to question my meaning, but in the end he muttered a simple 'cheers', picked up his pint and hurried away from the bar; probably making a mental note not to try and talk with the weird barmaid again.

 A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I grabbed a rag from beneath the bar and proceeded to mop up the spillage that had dripped onto its surface. Any little task to kill some time until Alex came back; besides I didn't want Shane suddenly on my case for appearing to be unoccupied, not when I had other plans for him.

 The sound of the hatch on the bar snapping open grabbed my attention – I was going to blame the sleep deprivation for so many people managing to sneak up on me without my noticing, it really wasn't a good sign. Alex had hurried back in from outside, his shoulders hunched and an obvious sheen of moisture shone in the messy tendrils of his hair.

 “It just started pissing down, I wouldn't go out there if I were you.” Alex exclaimed, giving his head a shake and showering me in drops of icy cold rain water.

 I hissed at the sudden cold as the water splattered onto my overexposed skin; I'd been cold enough as it was without the impromptu shower.

 “Hey!” I slapped the rag I'd been mopping the bar with against Alex's arm, “watch where you're shaking that mop.”

 “Hmm? Oh, sorry.” He laughed, grinning at me between limp strands of black hair that were plastered against his forehead. “Go on, go take your ten minutes now. I'll cover the rush as the dancers change.”

 “Yeah, damn right you will.” I retorted. Like that would make up for the cold shower he had 'unknowingly' given me. Still it meant I would definitely get to catch the waif as soon she came off stage, no chance of missing her.

 I grabbed my long, leather coat and slung it over one arm – as tempted as I was to wrap it around my shoulders and bury myself into the warmth of the red silk lining. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Shane watching me with a scrutinizing gaze as I stomped out from behind the bar and thumped the hatch shut behind me.

 “Have fun.” I smirked at Alex just as the music stopped and the girls took their bows.

 The crowd rose from their seats, some applauded, most just headed straight for the bar and I slipped into the crowd and hurried towards the break-room before Shane could catch me and demand that I stay and help with the rush.

 The staffroom was a depressing little hole of a place. Greying, threadbare carpet covered the floor, a few rickety old chairs and dusty sofas lined the walls. An off cut from a kitchen counter was set in one corner, beside a free-standing sink, covered with chipped mugs, sticky coffee stains and a battered old kettle that poured more limescale than water. A look of distaste fell over me as I looked around the empty room, remembering why I'd made a choice to avoid it whenever possible. Unfortunately, it was really the best place I could sit and wait for the waif. She would surely have to pass through on her way from the stage to the dressing room. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait too long.

 Just as I had dared to sink myself into one of the sturdier looking chairs, the door burst open and in trooped the three girls who had just finished their shift on the stage; bringing up the rear was the waif on the arm, much to my surprise, of Shane. Rosa cast me a brief smile as she shove open a second door and headed back to the dressing rooms, hopefully to change out of that uncomfortable looking outfit. The red head draped herself, languidly, over one of the sofa's and proceeded to pick at her nails, a bored expression masking her pretty, pointed face. Shane and the waif had made their way across the room and were having a hushed conversation beside the sink. I heard the deep, gravelly rumble of his voice vibrating through the air, but the words were indiscernible.

 A soft pink glow rose on her pale cheeks as an embarrassed giggle escaped her lips, and I couldn't help the gentle curve of a smile that formed on my own; at least my instincts were sill working in all of my exhaustion and permanent headache since I'd arrived. Perhaps I wouldn't have too much persuasion to do after all. One whole week of waiting for something promising to happen, could it really all be over so easily?

 Shane suddenly turned to me, a contemptuous look in his eyes. I dropped my gaze quickly but I knew he'd seen me watching them. Hopefully he would just think I was being nosey, or that I was jealous I'd missed my own chance with him. I did not want to put him off and ruin my chances of getting my job done. I risked another glance up and caught Shane's frown but he quickly returned his attention back to the waif. He muttered something into her ear, brushed his lips quickly against her cheek and made for the door back out into the club. He didn't so much as spare me glance as he passed by, much to my relief, I must not have made him suspicious with my staring. That at least was one less thing to worry about. I just needed to convince the waif to stay sweet with Shane and encourage his advances.

 She'd turned away from the sink to fully face the room, a rosy blush still highlighted her pale cheeks and her glossy pink lips were stretched wide in a broad smile. I was pondering how to begin broaching the subject to her when a sudden ear-splitting squeal ripped through my ears.

 “Oh god, that man is gorgeous!” She announced to the room.

 Her voice matched the rest of her, high pitched and bird like. It grated on something inside of me, or perhaps it was just the words she had spoken. I mean gorgeous, really? Well okay, Shane did have a sort of rugged appeal, if you liked the whole bald headed body-builder look. There had to be something attractive about him to have attracted all the girls he'd killed into his bed, and it certainly wasn't his sparkling personality. I supposed, it was because I knew the whole truth about him that he made my skin crawl; the truth can so often be ugly.

 “So, is he like the man in charge here?” the waif asked as she flicked her gaze between me and the red-head.

 She really must have been new blood to be asking that question, that was even better news in my favour. Red didn't seem particularly keen to join in any conversation, she shook her head without looking up from her nails, so it fell to me to answer.

 “Who, Shane?” I asked. I didn't need the clarification but my question drew the waif across the room and into a chair beside me so that I didn't need to shout across the room to speak with her.

 “Well, not really. But he might as well be. Angelo is the club's owner, but he's not really here all that much. Shane is usually left to run things on his own.”

 “Oh, Angelo is the owner? I wondered who he was when he hired me. Thought he was just some sort of entertainment manager or something. They have those right?” she asked, but didn't care to wait for an answer before continuing. “But owner? Really? Huh, never would have guessed.”

 Mentioning Angelo had perhaps been a mistake as her attention seemed to be focusing on him rather than the target of my case. Perhaps it was a power thing that appealed to this girl.

 “Yes. Well, like I said, he owns the place but Shane is really the one in control around here. He's the one to get in good with if you want the best shifts, high tipping customers, that sort of thing. He's the one who can make that sort of thing happen.” I pushed on in an attempt to steer her focus back onto the security guard.

 “Oh, He'll do that?” she asked, eagerly, her pale eyebrows arched high on her forehead as she gazed at me with her baby blues; hopeful, almost pleading. “And what about other things? I mean, does he have like contacts in the, ah....adult entertainment industry?” She rolled the words awkwardly off of her tongue as if they were some alien language. Why she couldn't just say porn I didn't know.

 So, that was her plan then. Break her way into the porn industry through stripping, and she was hoping that Shane could connect her with the right people. I couldn't help but feel it was a very vain hope. He could help you into the business of prostitution, sure, but did she really think that some big-shot porn director would frequent that place? Still, I wasn't about to squash her dreams. I had my own needs from this girl and if she thought Shane could get her what she really wanted I would just keep on pointing her in his direction.

 “I suppose he could probably do that,” I said with a shrug. “He is the man in the know around here, or he seems to be anyway. Can't say for sure, I'm just a barmaid and he doesn't really like me very much.” I leaned in close to whisper into her ear, not that Red appeared to be listening to our words, “He tends to have his favourites, won't help just anybody. But he seems to have taken rather a liking to you, you might just get lucky.”

 I sat back in my chair and fought hard to keep the sadistic smile off of my lips as I watched the joyful expression widen in her blue eyes. I couldn't feel bad for pointing this girl to her death, it was a hazard of the trade and the reason I tried to never get close to the humans surrounding her cases. It helped to keep me cold and distant, but I was feeling a great sense of relief that it wasn't going to be either Alex or Rosa in the line of fire. I'd let myself grow far too close to the both of them in that one short week.

 “So, do you really think he would do something like that for me? I'm so new here, there must be other girls he's already helping out.”

 “You've just got to stay on his good side. I can see he's already taken an interest in you. Just, you know, butter him up a little, stroke his male ego and he's bound to help you out any way he can. See, the thing I've noticed about Shane is that if he likes you then he'll take an interest, the rest of us are left to fend for ourselves. He likes you, so make the most of it.”

 I swear she literally screamed with excitement as I encouraged her to go after him. She's opened her mouth to reply – or perhaps to scream again, though I was very much hoping for the former – but at the same moment the door was shoved open and both our sets of eyes were drawn to the object of her excitement.

 “Dahlia! Your ten minutes were up five minutes ago, get back behind the bar.” He barked at me.

 “Yeah, yeah. I'm going.” I rolled my eyes at him before leaning down and muttering quietly to the waif, “remember, stay on his good side. Bye.”

 “Evie,” she said to my back just as I turned away.

 “What?”

 “Evie, my name is Evie. And thanks.”

 “Right.” I nodded, forcing a smile onto my lips. I hadn't wanted to know her name, it was always the start of things becoming far too personal.

 I passed Shane in the doorway as he wandered towards Evie. I lingered in the frame for a moment or two, holding the door so it closed slowly inch by inch; listening, hopeful, to what exchange might pass between the two.

 “Thanks for what?” He growled at her.

 “Oh, nothing. I just asked her where the toilets were. You know, haven't really had the tour yet.”

 I was impressed by her lie, there was no denying that. I let the door click shut just as Shane held out a hand and pulled her up from the chair.

 “Well then, let me show you the sights.”