Chapter 323: Nightingale
*Cookie, I want to go. Please. With whipped cream and a blow job on top. – Karan*
The girls were at Molly’s house for a sleepover for one of his daughters. Pagan wasn’t even sure which daughter it was. Molly had five wives, he called them his pretties, and probably a dozen daughters, his little pretties, and a son. And the man adored every one of them.
Since his girls were out of the house, Cookie and Karan had talked him into going to a club with them. He did not even know that this place existed. Nor was it any place he would have normally gone by himself.
Nightingale was in the warehouse district of Ridgeview, backed up to the river. A little less than a mile down the road was Sticks’ custom furniture store across the river in Monroe. Shaking his head, Pagan decided that he was too old to be hanging out at a bar. Instead of checking out the scantily clad women, like Cookie and Karan were, he was thinking about how far he was from the shop.
Turning from the metal railing along the outer deck overlooking the river, and yes, he had already inspected the craftsmanship and welds, he decided that he was going to go home.
Walking inside the building he again looked around at the odd décor. The walls were shiny dark purple with black wainscoting, crown molding and decorative trim. Skeletons, spiders, gothic crosses, tombstones and centipedes covered the walls. The chandeliers were black with dark colored crystals on them.
This was definitely not a place he would have picked. As he approached the table that Cookie was at, he was prepared to make his excuses and head home. To put up his feet, watch a Clint Eastwood western and drink a beer. Or twelve.
Until he reached the table and saw the other women with his friends. Specifically, the one in the 1950s style summer halter dress. It was black with white spider webs, blue roses and small silver skull buttons. Her black hair had streaks blue mixed in with her curls and large freedom curls.
He knew the name of them because suddenly both his girls liked the old-style hairdos. Ashlyn because they were very girly. Alyssa because they were completely dark.
Light brown eyes with wide black wings and thick eyelashes met his. Yeah, he was screwed because his dick suddenly liked the club.
Clint Eastwood was on his own.
Shiloh smiled at him and gave him a once over. His shoulder length hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the sides and back of his head, along with his scruff were all at least one day past needing a trim. Working in the fab shop as both a welder and forger kept him in shape and the tight light gray t-shirt showed off his muscles.
Pagan smiled back at her as he placed his beer on the table. “Hi. Love the hair.”
“Thanks. How are your girls?”
“Both obsessed with kitten ears and freedom rolls.”
The other woman, she sported a flapper girl look with a semi sheer black and red beaded dress, laughed. “Shy is the best with the rockabilly.”
“Pagan, this is my friend, Gertie. Pagan did all the metalwork for the stores.”
“I had help.” He said shaking the woman’s hand. “Everything working out?”
“We’ll know for certain after Saturday.” Shiloh smiled brightly as the song changed. It was a symphonic metal rock song that was a little slower than the others had been. “Pagan, do you dance?”
“Not well.” He admitted.
“Good.” Shiloh laughed. “People will focus on your bad moves and ignore mine.”
Somehow, and he wasn’t sure how, they ended up on the dance floor. Their bodies were pressed tight against each other as they moved to the music. After a few songs, she took him by the hand and guided him to the balcony.
It was quieter up here, and darker. As they walked past an alcove, he was certain that he saw a man getting a blow job. Passing by another one, a woman was half undressed and pressed between two men who were both fucking her.
Shiloh opened a door, and they walked out onto a rooftop patio. They approached the bar, and the bartender placed a glass of white wine in front of her. Pagan ordered a beer before looking at the crystal and silver glass.
The silver stem looked like arm bones and a skeletal hand extended up to hold a silver spider web with a crystal flute inside.
The bowl that the pretzels were in was shaped like a human skull. Pagan accepted the beer and asked how much he owed. The bartender smirked and walked away.
“It’s on my tab.” Shiloh said as she walked to a table overlooking the river. Pagan followed her and sat at the small table.
“I have no problem-.”
“I’m sure. However, the patio is tab only.”
“Oh.” He smiled a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I just…”
“It’s fine.” She waved it off. “Balcony and patio are members and guests only. Mainly because the balcony has been known to become a sex pit.”
“So, I did see…?”
“A blow job and a threesome. Yes. Just because we like the death motif does not mean that we are dead ourselves. My sex life on the other hand, seems to have turned off its life support. Jumped off a twenty-story building. And just to make sure it was dead, did a shot of cyanide on the way down.”
“I know the feeling.” He said with a little chuckle. “First night in months that my girls are out of the house, and I was planning on going home and watching Clint Eastwood.”
“I love a good spaghetti western.”
They tapped drinks in solidarity.
“I’m a single dad, what’s your excuse?”
“I’m opening up, not just one, but two new stores and have a friend living with me while she’s getting over a bad relationship.”
“So, if I were to ask you back to my place, what would you say?”
“Clint Eastwood or something else?”
“Either.” He answered before taking a drink.
“Let me make sure Gertie can get home.”
Pagan smiled at her. “Karan drove her car.”
