Page 13 of Waste of Worth

Yes, yes he had.

DINO watched as one season left, and a new one came. He didn’t mind the passing time, the days bleeding together and the weeks drifting away before his very eyes. He wasn’t the type of person who counted time, unless of course, he had something to wait for.

He hadn’t had something like that in … well, forever.

But with new seasons came new business.

Case in point, the strip club down in the Heights that Ben had finally had enough of, and decided to sign over to Dino for a half-decent price. The Heights was one of the dirtier parts of Chicago, with a higher crime rate, shitty schools, and all the characters that came along with it.

Dino liked it.

If only because he could do nearly all of his transactions from behind the desk in a back office of the strip club as it allowed for little surveillance. All types of people walked in and out of the joint, and no one would blink an eye at the many patrons that slipped into the back offices, with envelopes in hand, after enjoying a show from the girls.

Dino took each and every envelope with a grin-and-bear-it attitude, only counting the money and dispersing the dirty cash where it needed to go when he was alone again. Automatically, seventy percent of anything he made went to the boss of the Outfit. Then, ten percent of his cut went to Ben without question.

He was left with the rest.

It wasn’t anything to scoff at, as far as that went.

Add in his many business ventures, from clubs to restaurants, and Dino was doing okay financially. He only wished his many bank accounts, including the several he had offshore to hide funds, would give him some sense of security.

They didn’t.

“Hey.”

Dino glanced up at his brother’s voice, finding Theo leaning in the doorway of the office with his usual scowl in place. Theo always stuck around to keep an eye on the people coming in and out when tribute was coming up and people had to pay their dues. It was the only time the two brothers managed to work well with one another without some sort of fight starting up.

Money could do that to people.

“What do you want?” Dino asked.

“New recruits are waiting for you.”

Dino sighed, rubbing at his temples to ease the headache starting to form. He’d slept like shit the night before—frankly, he slept like shit every night—but he was running on less than two hours sleep over a span of several days. It was starting to show, considering he didn’t have the slightest fucking clue what Theo was talking about.

“The what?”

“The people who put in applications for the dancing job—strippers, Dino.”

Oh.

Yeah, shit.

“How many showed up?”

He’d have to watch a routine from each one. Most men probably wouldn’t mind that, getting a free lap dance or watching a woman grind mostly naked against a metal pole. Dino wasn’t one of those men. Once he saw one or two strippers, he’d pretty much seen them all. It certainly didn’t help that he saw them every night when he came into the club to do business.

“Three,” Theo said.

Dino pushed his papers away, and grabbed the stacks of cash he’d set aside. Tying a rubber band around one of the smaller piles, he tossed it over to his brother. Theo caught it without hesitation, stuffing the rolled up bills into his pocket, his pay for the week.

“Vet them for me?” Dino asked. “I’ve got a headache and I need a drink.”

Theo cocked an eyebrow. “You okay?”

That seemingly simple question took Dino off guard for a second, if only because his younger brother rarely put forth any effort to actually seem like he cared. Dino didn’t mind because it was just Theo’s personality. Some shit couldn’t be helped. They were products of their violent raising.

Dino was the same way, mostly.