“Don’t flatter me, same old rules—split it fifty-fifty when we meet, I don’t want a cent more!” William Smith took out the money, roughly divided it in half, and handed Henry Johnson his share.

Henry Johnson grinned sheepishly but didn’t refuse. The two of them had been partners in scams long before coming to Jinxiu, and were already masters at it—one played the bad cop, one the good, and whatever they swindled was always split evenly.

……

Just as they were divvying up the money, William Smith’s rarely-used phone started chirping at his waist, sounding so old-fashioned it could’ve been a pager. William Smith pulled out his old Nokia 5110, saw a somewhat familiar number, but couldn’t recall who it was. He answered, puzzled, “Hello, who’s this?”

“Oh my, brother, you need to come quick, something big’s happened here!” The voice on the other end was half-crying, and William Smith immediately recognized it as the ever-mischievous Mama Miller.

“What’s wrong? Speak clearly!”

“Some damned people came and beat up one of my girls. Brother Smith, Sister Miller is counting on you… Please, come quickly!” Mama Miller sounded like she was about to burst into tears, as if afraid William Smith wouldn’t come: “A girl who just started today got beaten up, and it was your security guards who did it… Ah! Ah! Now the security guards are fighting each other… Hurry, someone’s going to get killed.”

“Okay, okay, don’t panic, I’ll be right there!” William Smith hung up, muttering, “What a mess, she didn’t even say who hit whom.” Damn, there’s always crap to deal with, but today’s especially bad.

Muttering to himself, William Smith had already reached the stairwell, then turned back to Henry Johnson and said, “Tiger, come with me! There’s trouble at the karaoke club!”

Chapter 08: Trouble Brews in a Place of Right and Wrong

When William Smith and Henry Johnson hurried to the scene on the third floor of the karaoke club, the private room was already surrounded by a crowd. Several security guards were trying to keep the guests and hostesses from crowding in, so it was impossible to see what was happening inside. Amid the chaos, the only thing distinguishable was a shrill scream of “Aiyo!” from inside the room. William Smith heard it and thought, “Damn, it really has turned into a fight.”

There’s really nothing you can do about this. In entertainment venues, no matter the place or the quality of the guests and hostesses, fights are never in short supply. Sometimes guests get jealous, sometimes the hostesses do, sometimes the mamas fight over business, and then there are the troublemakers, the drunks—truly all kinds of chaos. Since William Smith became head of security, the troublemakers had decreased a lot, but William Smith wasn’t a god—he couldn’t control all the hormones flying around between guests and hostesses. The good thing was, these days, all the jealousy and fighting was internal to the club and didn’t affect its core interests, so overall, it was still manageable.

“Make way, make way!” The crowd felt a strong force from behind and instinctively parted to form a path. Of course, the hostesses stepped aside when they saw security chief William Smith coming, while the guests were simply pushed aside. Then they saw two security guards with stern faces stride into the room—one with a face full of flesh and a stocky build, the other of average height, with sharp features, a tall, straight posture, broad shoulders, and a scar at the corner of his eye that made his dark face look naturally intimidating. These two stood out starkly among the previously chattering hostesses, making everyone’s heart skip a beat. The noisy room suddenly went silent, as if someone had hit the mute button.

The private room was a mess. The coffee table had been kicked over and lay on its side, one of the club’s security guards was already on the floor, surrounded by broken glass—clearly from a smashed beer bottle. The other three were cornered against the wall by a burly man in black. William Smith estimated the man was at least 1.9 meters tall, half a head taller than himself, and the three security guards facing him were clearly at a disadvantage, already forced back to the wall. Sigh! What’s most lacking in the 21st century? Talent! Every time there was a fight, William Smith felt his team was too weak—especially these security guards, most of whom only bullied the weak and feared the strong, wilting as soon as they met a real tough guy.

On the main sofa sat a man in his thirties, leaning back, with a slick, baby-faced young man standing beside him. Clearly the main players, both dressed like successful businessmen, but the older man looked pale, with sunken eyes. William Smith had seen plenty of this type in the club—put nicely, they were overworked and weak; put bluntly, they’d just had too much sex and were exhausted.

In the corner by the window crouched a woman, presumably the beaten hostess. William Smith looked closer and immediately fumed—it was Rose, the southern beauty under Mama Miller’s wing whom he’d just met a few hours ago. Her white short-sleeved shirt was torn at the shoulder, she was clutching one side of her face, and one eye was swollen. As William Smith entered, the mature woman’s eyes were fixed on the weak-looking man, like a lioness ready to pounce, nothing like those hostesses who trembled after being wronged.

“This woman’s got a fiery temper!” William Smith thought to himself, secretly impressed.

……