Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One Read Free

after regaining his
balance. “Me and my frat brothers come here every weekend. You kick
us out and we’ll tell everyone we know to never spend another dime
in this shithole.”
     
    I peered over
my left shoulder at the hundreds deep line of people waiting to get
into the club. It was twelve-thirty. Less than ten percent of those
people would get the chance to see the inside of the bar, much less
spend money on booze.
     
    “I think
we’ll manage without your parents’ tuition fund, boys.” That snide
voice was immediately followed by Aaron, the club owner. All
five-foot-three of him came strolling out the door looking like the
sleaziest sleaze who ever opened a nightclub. Dressed in a
six-hundred dollar suit with his fake-n-baked, fresh from the spa
face smirking openly at the shit disturbers. “You boys start
trouble in Cowboy Shotz and
you get escorted out the door.”
     
    “Trouble?” the
other kid blustered, his teeth starting to chatter. “We didn’t do
anything! These gorillas started it!”
     
    This was the
kid who took the cheap shot while I was dragging out his buddy.
Successfully trampling down the sudden urge to front kick him into
oncoming traffic seemed a moral victory.
     
    Aaron glanced
back at the three of us, inspecting each of our faces.
     
    Mark and David
looked at each other. Mark shrugged and pointed a thumb at me.
     
    Aaron quirked
an eyebrow.
     
    I grunted
again, motioning with my head to Affliction boy. “Caught him
stealing tips from Shelby’s jar.”
     
    “I told you
that never ….”
     
    “Shut it!”
Aaron barked. He gave both boys a level look. “You’re barred. Don’t
come back or we’ll press charges.”
     
    Then he turned
on his heel and stepped back into his club.
     
    I followed. The
boys curses and shouts behind me already not worth my time.
     
    Cowboy Shotz was an institution on the Winnipeg
nightclub scene. A converted old bank on the fringes of the famed
Exchange District right near the intersection of Portage Avenue and
Main Street. Literally at the center of town. Cowboy Shotz catered to less of a teeny-bopper,
fresh out of high school clientele and leaned more towards a mature
post-university crowd of professionals. It basically meant the club
had more affluent socialites eager to spend even more money on the
same drinks. Plus factoring in the faux-Western theme of the club
allowed for a wider variety of clientele as well. Not a hip-hop
club. Not a country bar. More than just a rock cabaret. Cowboy Shotz was a full on grown-up
establishment that offered a little something for
everybody.
     
    Plus, hot girls
in Daisy Dukes and cut off tops serving booze never hurt
either.
     
    The sound and
light equipment was reportedly state of the art. I was a bit out of
touch on what the cost and specs for a lighting grid and soundstage
were going for, so I took the bar manager Aasif at his word. All I
ever noticed was a constant static hum every time I passed a
speaker. Odds are someone botched the wiring or something.
     
    Money well
spent.
     
    It was a
spacious old building. Very high ceilinged with a full service bar
along one whole wall. A small spiral staircase behind the main bar
led to a small office directly above and to the right of the live
stage where some local flunkies were destroying my favorite Bon
Jovi track. A barely private VIP section was tucked away near the
front entrance, complete with high-def TV’s a champagne bar and
those fancy rope things to keep the plebes at bay.
     
    After nodding
to Aaron and the boys I threaded my way through the over-capacity
dance floor. Sweaty, gyrating bodies of all different shapes and
sizes made that a more difficult task than you’d think. While I’ve
obviously never witnessed a Greek Bacchanal in person I’ve often
assumed that it would resemble something like that dance floor.
     
    Only with fewer
spray tans and more fucking.
     
    Making my way
to the front steps I nodded to the girls at coat check and