Chapter 80 Drunk or Deliberate?
Matt saw Robert's state and immediately tried to persuade him, "What do they have to do with us? Let's go back and rest."
"Who's performing today?" Robert asked one of the guys next to him, swaying slightly.
"Rose Wilson."
"The foreign one?" Robert asked again.
"Yeah." The guy nodded.
Robert burped, grinned at Matt, and said, "Let's go in and take a look. I tried to meet her last time, but she wasn't there."
"It's getting late. Let's just go back," Matt frowned and said, "Chris Thomas is also there. If we go in..."
"Fuck, he does his thing, and I do mine. Is there any problem?" Robert shouted, eyes wide open, "Maple Street is only so big, I can't avoid them forever."
Matt was speechless.
"Come on, let's go in and take a look," Robert called out, leading the group into the music bar.
The music bars of this era weren't much different from before. The only difference might be that they focused more on performances, meaning there were often people with special talents performing here. Most of the patrons were older because younger kids didn't have the income. In such an environment, most people had trouble even affording food, and there weren't many rich kids around.
On the stage of the music bar, a tall, seductive woman was performing a rather provocative act, pushing the boundaries quite a bit.
Robert loved to play, so he had a bit of a thing for Ms. Wilson on stage. However, he had failed to meet her twice before, and with the Anderson family getting hit hard recently, he had some pent-up anger. So, when he heard the host auctioning off Rose, he didn't hesitate to say, "I'll bid $200."
As soon as he spoke, a spotlight shone on the entrance. Robert grinned and walked to an empty table nearby, waving at Rose.
"The gentleman at the door bids $200," the host announced loudly, "Folks, opportunities like this are rare. Ms. Wilson will be performing in Stardust City next week, so it'll be hard to book her again. Rich gentlemen, enjoy it while you can! Any higher bids?"
This kind of auction was mainly to liven up the atmosphere. Most guests participated just for fun. Many of them didn't actually want to get involved with the performers, and even if they did go out for a meal or a drink, it didn't mean they'd spend the night together. So Chris was just bidding for fun, boasting after a few drinks.
But with Robert's appearance, the atmosphere changed.
Chris had been friends with Terry for years. Although he didn't get involved in street-level competition, he owned two registered companies and controlled a lot of the Patrick family's business. He looked down on the Anderson family, who came from the bottom.
Sitting on the couch, Chris adjusted his black-framed glasses and curiously asked his friend, "Is Robert out of prison?"
"Yeah, I heard Police Chief Samuel got him out." His friend nodded.
"He got lucky and forgot who he is," Chris said with a smile, waving his hand. "Thomas, play with him."
The young man in front heard this and immediately raised his hand. "300 dollars."
"400 dollars," Robert said without blinking.
"500 dollars."
"600 dollars."
In less than five seconds, the bids had reached 600 dollars, far beyond the range of just livening up the atmosphere. The guests knew that the two sides were seriously competing, no longer just playing around.
At the door, Matt frowned and reminded Robert, "That's enough. Is 600 dollars worth it?"
"It's not about the money," Robert said, crossing his legs and staring at Chris with a smile. "Got any more bullets in your pocket? If not, I'll have her come over for a drink."
Inside, the young man walked back and bent down to ask Chris, "Boss, should we keep bidding?"
"No, let him show off if he wants," Chris said with a sullen face.
"600 dollars. Any higher bids?" the host asked.
No one responded.
"Let's have Ms. Wilson go toast the gentleman at the door," the host announced.
Robert stood up and asked, "Do you have any money on you?"
Matt was stunned and said, "If you don't have money, why did you bid?"
"Do you have any?" Robert asked impatiently.
"Yes." Matt nodded.
Hearing this, Robert pointed at Chris and shouted to the host, "I don't want the drink. Let the lady go to their table. That guy's been bidding for a while, he must be thirsty!"
The room fell silent, and even the experienced host didn't know what to say.
Chris sat on the couch with an extremely somber expression, saying nothing.
"Fuck, we hit them so hard recently, but he still dares to be arrogant?"
A big guy suddenly jumped up from the couch, grabbed a bottle from the table, and threw it at Robert.
The bottle shattered on the table, and a conflict was inevitable.
Seven or eight people rushed over and started fighting with Robert and his group. Chris tried to stop them several times, but it was no use.
At the door.
Robert, already quite drunk, was fierce but outnumbered. Plus, the club staff sided with Chris, so he quickly got hurt.
Three or four people cornered Robert against the wall, punching and kicking him.
Matt was wrestling with three staff members. Although he wasn't hurt, he was held back.
The brawl lasted about seven or eight minutes, ending with Robert getting beaten up.
The club manager hurried over to pull the attackers away and said to Robert, "What are you doing? You all know each other. Causing trouble here makes me look bad."
Robert wiped the blood from his nose and laughed. "Don't worry. It hasnothing to do with you. Fuck, getting beaten sobered me up."
"Got a car? Do you need to go to the hospital?" the manager asked.
"No need. It's just a scratch," Robert said, wiping the blood from his hand. He seemed drunk but was quite clear-headed. "Sorry for the trouble."
"It's not me, but the boss who won't be happy. Anyway, go clean up."
"No need, I'm leaving," Robert said, waving his hand and leaving the club first.
In the car at the door, Matt said unhappily, "Why did you do that? You spent money but got beaten up. If Benjamin finds out, he'll definitely scold you."
"I drank too much today," Robert said, tearing off a piece of tissue and stuffing it into his nose. "Let's go home and sleep."
"When will you stop causing trouble?" Matt sighed.
Inside the music bar.
After the manager had the entrance cleaned up, he went to Chris's booth, sat on the couch, and said, "Chris, stop drinking. Trust me. Go home early."
"Why?" Chris asked, tilting his head.
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