A low bassline thumps as I step into the private room and look around. There’s a long velvet couch against a wall and a table in front of it. There’s a fresh drink waiting for me, and I turn to the guy watching the door.

“Are there cameras in here?” I ask, and he nods. “Do you sit out here the whole time?” He nods again as I pass him my credit card. After he runs it for the two grand, he passes it back, and I place it with the roll of money Tino gave me when we walked in the club. ...