What We Do in the Night (Day to Night #1) - Stylo Fantome


Smoky eyes to hide any tears. Glossy lips to soften any frowns. Hair pulled up high into a bun to help showcase one of her greatest assets – her face.

Flashing lights and thumping beats, beating down, down, down so far most people can't find it.

Most ... but not all.

“You look good tonight!”

Valentine O'Dell looked up to see her co-worker, Serge the bouncer, heading towards her, but she didn't stop dancing.

“Thanks,” she replied, twirling in a quick circle, then raising her arms above her head.

“You want a drink?” he asked, doing a slow one-two step in front of her. Poor guy didn't have any rhythm.

“No,” she said, turning her back to him. “But thanks anyway.”

“Aw, c'mon, sweetie! One drink!”

“Every night when I get to work, we go through this,” she laughed as she looked over her shoulder. “And every night I tell you no. When are you gonna stop?”

“When you say yes, sweetheart.”

“Well, that night is not tonight, so amscray – you're scaring the fish.”

Serge rolled his eyes, but did as he was told and shuffled off in an awkward sort of conga dance. At six-foot-five and covered in tattoos, Serge scared everyone, which was funny considering that in reality he was a big ol' pussy cat. Sure, he'd once bounced a guy for grabbing Val's ass, and another time he'd beaten up some touchy-feely frat bro for groping one of the aerial girls, but if you didn't cross him, he was sweet as could be.

Sweet, and totally off limits. Valentine didn't dip her pen in the company ink, she wasn't stupid.

As he disappeared from view, Val turned and looked around the crowd, trying to assess her odds. It was still early in the night, just ten-thirty, and it was also a Wednesday – not the busiest of nights for the club.

Near the entrance, there were three men sitting in a booth. It was up against a wall made of frosted glass, with blue and red lights strobing behind it, casting shadows over the gentlemen. On the floor, several other men were dancing, either in groups, or with single partners. A guy wearing only a pair of tight, white undies and flimsy angel wings was making out with a large, heavy set man.

Behind Val, there was a girl on the go-go podium, but she wasn't dancing. She was speaking loudly in Mandarin to a large group of Chinese businessmen, who would all randomly burst out laughing at whatever it was she was saying. She laughed along with them, occasionally patting her hand over the finger waves in her blonde hair, careful not to disturb the sequined eye patch she wore.

So basically it was the typical early evening crowd.

I wonder how the other rooms are doing?

Valentine worked at a club ... of sorts. It was very secret, and very exclusive. There were underground clubs, and then there was Caché. Off the map, unlisted, almost impossible to find – it was invite only, and not many of its patrons were willing to share such a special place with their friends.

It was insanity just barely leashed. Possibly the gates to heaven, but more likely the entrance to hell. No two nights were ever exactly the same, the bevy of delights ever changing, which was part of what kept people coming back.

To see what Caché would come up with next.

“Yo, Val!”

She twirled again and saw the club's owner striding towards her. She nodded at him, then started dancing over.

“Yes?” she asked, swiveling her hips to the beat. She noticed one of the guys at the table near the entrance staring at her. She shot him a flirty smile.

“Go watch the door – Angel says she needs help,” the owner, Marco “Del” DelVecchio, told her.

Valentine was surprised. Change was always fun, but it also meant taking her away from the floor and her real job. Still, a break was welcome, so she stopped dancing.

“I'm on it.”

“Hey hey hey,” DelVecchio stopped her before she could walk away. “I said she needs help – I didn't say to stay there all night. I want your ass wiggling its way across this floor within the next thirty minutes, got it?”

Valentine saluted him.

“Ass will be wiggling, sir.”

“You keep busting my balls, girly, and I swear. Get outta here,” he growled before walking away.

As she headed off the dance floor, Val made sure to wink at the guy who'd been staring at her. He gave her a nervous smile back, then frowned when she left the club area.

Caché was just outside the