An Underground Club (a story)
You’d swear you’d been there before, cuzz it looked like any other back alley club, in a big city. The kind you had to know the owner of, or be on a list for. The kind you had to be vetted for. No stranger got past the doormen without knowing a few things. The colour of the night, the name of the owner and a password too. They didn’t even get into the alley without that.
Most of the neighbours gossiped about some millionaire’s club, but it looked so unkempt. If a bunch of millionaires were slumming it, they probably at least wanted a clean place.
Then they discussed whether it was a bikers’ club. But though there were maybe 1-2 bikes in the area, that wasn’t really enough for a club.
So they thought maybe it was a gamblers’ den. And figured if it was, it was some poker and billiards den. But they didn’t think that much security was necessary for that. Just to make sure, they watched what happened when pretty girls came near the alley. Nope, they needed the passwords as well. Huh!
They thought maybe it was a sex club. And that thought only stayed in their heads for the time it took to think of the pretty girls again. Nope.
The neighbours were stumped.
They did know that the club wound up around 10 pm and went thru till @ 4 am. So they were aware that the club had an after hours’ license.
They did know that people went in and stayed for hours. not the usual bar hopping that went on everywhere else.
There was music, but it wasn’t pop, dance or jazz. Something ethereal played that they hadn’t heard before.
They also knew that there were no brawls in the alley and nobody was ever seen getting a blow job there either. They couldn’t even say that any drug deals went down there.
And if the cops came by, they were in and out within @ 5 minutes.
Usually, when a new business owner came to town, they joined the local business associations. And this owner sent his manager. He made excuses about ill health. Yet the owner’s car was at the club 7 nights a week.
One of the neighbours worked at city hall, and all she could say was a corporation owned the club. It must be his then. A corporation owned his car as well. Or so said the guy who worked at the DMV.
They were curious and if they could have gotten away with it, they would have broken in, or stormed the place.
It was driving them nuts… till one neighbour overheard someone say the owner’s name was Osiris. And they laughed when that went around.
Well they were pretty sure no Egyptian gods were in this city, or neighbourhood.
So they put it down to a goth club and left it at that.
When the owner heard the conclusion, he laughed. He had always thought the name he used was a good decoy, and he was glad to be proven right. The last thing they wanted was neighbours getting so curious they stormed the place.
If they only knew!
Well, as long as this continued, they could stay here. It was a great layout for their needs. He and his undead would be cozy here for awhile.