Kapitel 19: Chapter 19: The Club Was Packed
Yesterday's chaos dissipated, and West Strip Street was cleaned up, restoring its usual order.
The sun had just set, and it wasn't time for The Beast House to open yet. However, a line of dozens of people had already formed in front of the club.
More and more people kept coming, joining the queue.
Last night's news reports on multiple TV stations, coupled with today's bombardment by print media, led by the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, made The Beast House stripper club famous.
The entire metropolitan area of Atlanta had over 5 million people, providing a considerable number of potential customers for The Beast House.
Even if only a tiny fraction of them showed up, it would be enough to pack The Beast House.
As the line grew longer, curious passersby joined in on the fun.
Around six o'clock, getting ready to open early, Ivan and Blondie came to the porch.
Ivan took out a check and stuffed it into Blondie's hand, "Take the damn check and don't go buying junk."
Blondie glanced at the amount, "This much?"
Ivan responded, "Dumbass Martin keeps it real."
Blondie emphasized, "Boss Martin."
Ivan saw the long line outside the door and said, "Martin's methods are sleazy, but effective, way better than the lousy PR team."
The two opened the door and shouted to the queue of female customers, "Tickets are $20, have your money ready in advance!"
$20 bills were handed to them one after another, and they had thick wads in their hands. Within half an hour, the ticket sales were more than what they usually made in an entire night.
People kept entering, and the long line showed no signs of shortening; instead, it grew even longer.
Ivan was confident that their bonuses for the week were going to skyrocket.
A car arrived in the distance and parked at the end of the line.
Michael, sporting a ponytail, looked at the long line and then at the newspaper reports about The Beast House club. He slapped his forehead and said, "I'm such a dumbass. Such a simple method, and I couldn't think of it!"
Michael had to accept the sad reality that The Beast House had become famous throughout Atlanta, but it had nothing to do with him.
He wouldn't get a single dollar of benefit but had to come up with money quickly to fill a $10,000 deficit.
Earlier this morning, Vincent had already sent someone to hurry him for the money.
Thinking about having to sell his car and watches to pay off debts while the little bartender could collect a $10,000 reward, Michael felt quite unbalanced.
But he didn't dare to go to The Beast House and cause trouble; those people were not to be messed with.
Michael didn't leave immediately; instead, he observed carefully, frequently flipping through the newspaper, "Once I learn this, I'll be rolling in cash too!"
Inside the club, Martin made a Daiquiri and smiled, "Here's your drink, ma'am."
The female customer handed over a tip, "Great drink! Aren't you a dancer?"
With more customers waiting, Martin flashed an apologetic smile, "All the club's artists are on stage."
The number of people kept rising, soon exceeding 200. Nearly every female customer who came here to unwind was drinking, keeping Martin and Bruce very busy.
Martin received tips but didn't have time to sort them, so he just tossed them into a box under the bar.
A little past 6:30, the club was already packed to the brim. The men's troupe on the circular stage was performing a military-themed dance choreographed by the Savannah College of Art and Design.
Countless small-denomination bills were thrown onto the stage.
When it came to spending power, women far surpassed men.
Hart never realized it was so easy to make money.
Vincent stood at the doorway of his second-floor office, picked up the walkie-talkie, and told Ivan at the door, "Too many people. Don't let any more in for now."
The club was packed with customers.
Even the private rooms on the second floor were full.
Vincent lifted his cowboy hat slightly; with enough customers, the club's financials would see many possibilities.
His eyes turned toward the bar and saw Martin Davis.
Who would have expected that old jerk Jack Davis would have such an outstanding son?
Vincent waved Dana, the accountant, over, "Clear Martin Davis's debt and prepare a $5,000 check."
Dana hesitated, "It's just the first night. What about later..."
"You don't understand," Vincent cut her off. "He has ideas. If he succeeded once, he can do it again."
Dana said no more and went to prepare the check.
Vincent watched the lively dance floor and the flying cash, adding, "Prepare the other rewards as well."
Martin had given him a list earlier that morning. Besides the club insiders, there were two other participants in this operation.
Vincent didn't sweat the small stuff; the situation was well under his control.
Customers were constantly coming and going from the club, keeping it at capacity.
Late into the night, the club closed its doors. Bruce had finished tallying the liquor sales, recorded the accounts, and then opened a small drawer, pulling out a disorganized pile of bills and counting them one by one.
"I've never collected this much in tips," he said with a beaming smile, practically radiating joy. "44 bucks."
Martin stretched his arms, "Congratulations, civilized guy. You can buy a bunch of autographs now."
A thick stack of bills slapped into Bruce's palm as he said, "Pal, you're just jealous!"
Martin lifted a box onto the bar, "Take a good look, old Bruce! The tips I got tonight are several times what you made."
The box was filled with scattered $1, $2, and occasional $5 bills.
Martin continued to tease the poor civilized guy, "Here's a scary fact for you: I'm soon going to be richer than you."
Bruce was about to explode and retaliated sharply, "What do you have besides a good look? You're full of tricks and schemes inside!"
Martin quickly counted the cash, "Without my scheming, would you have gotten any tips tonight?"
Just then, there was a wailing noise from the stage. Hart ran to the center clutching a large pile of cash, leaving a trail of dropped bills as he went.
When he reached the stage's center, he clutched the cash and threw it into the air, letting the green bills rain down like a storm.
Hart spread his arms, basking in the money rain, shouting excitedly, "Hit me with it!"
Several other guys from the men's troupe ran onto the stage, frantically throwing money, creating a shower of bills.
As the bills hit Hart, he collapsed with a plop and couldn't get up again.
Exhaustion got the best of him.
Hart squirmed like a worm, his head covered in bills. He looked at Martin, "Please let me call you Dad!"
"Get lost!" Martin cruelly rejected him, "I don't want a dumb son!"
Hart wailed, "You can't do this, we need gender equality! Gender equality! Martin Davis, you jerk!"
Martin, seeing Ivan and Blondie approaching, said, "I'm having a backyard party at my place on Wednesday."
At that moment, Vincent came down from his second-floor office and called out, "Martin."
Martin went upstairs and entered the office, "Boss?"
Vincent handed him a check and a slip across the desk, "Your $7,000 debt is cleared, here's a $5,000 reward check, and starting tonight, your hourly wage is raised to $16."
"Thanks for your generosity," Martin didn't mind saying a few pleasant words, "You're a great boss."
Vincent handed him two other checks.
These were the hiring fees for Elena and Monica that Martin had requested.
Martin accepted them and politely invited Vincent to the party.
Vincent declined, saying, "Keep using your smarts. As long as it benefits the club, I'm never stingy with rewards."
Martin said, "Boss, we should stay close with the ATL Liberty Society to keep the customer traffic steady."
Vincent nodded, "Leave it to you."
Martin felt light as a feather when he went downstairs; the loan shark problem was finally resolved.
*****
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