Chapter 31 Welcome the Entry of the Tough Guy

In the morning, Scott Carter crawled out from under the counter, stretched lazily, grabbed a bottle of alcohol, and guzzled a huge gulp, his throat gurgling as he tilted his head back.

The alcohol melted away the stink of booze in his mouth, and as he swallowed it down, his spirits lifted.

When he went out for breakfast and bought a hot dog, he also "picked up" someone else's newspaper to help pass the time.

To tell the truth, he was much better at reading the paper than Elena and the others.

It was a tabloid that men really liked—The "Atlanta Interstellar News".

It often published interesting reports, such as a story about an Indian immigrant family's motorcycle exhaust pipe breaking.

The recent undercover reports about the Methodist Association versus the ATL Freedom Association were quite captivating.

In the eyes of the Clayton Community, those glossy figures on the surface were filthy inside.

Just last year, Scott heard that the child of a devout Methodist Sect follower had been hurt and had nowhere to turn for help.

Flipping to the second page of the newspaper, Scott looked for the story about the Methodist Association and the Freedom Association and saw a striking headline.

"Methodist Association accuses House of Beast of discriminating against men, House of Beast responds: 'Open to male customers after ten o'clock each evening!'"

Scott read the detailed content.

The Atlanta Interstellar News sent a reporter to the House of Beast for an interview, and the club's person in charge stated that the club supported freedom and equality, and there was absolutely no discriminatory behavior. House of Beast was open to all customers, but due to limited carrying capacity, they recommended that male customers enter after ten o'clock.

Scott was a man, and even though his head was a bit muddled from the alcohol, he understood the hidden meaning of the report.

Who were the customers of the House of Beast male strip club? What could a man gain by entering after ten o'clock?

Scott tossed the newspaper aside, pulled open the drawer under the counter, and started looking for money.

He only found 7 US dollars.

Scott slapped his forehead, remembered something, locked up the shop, and went into the community, coming near his home.

The bastard Martin had recently made some money!

Scott climbed over a waist-high wire fence and was about to go in and rummage when he saw a pair of broken pliers on the outside windowsill and a bundle of wire mesh below.

Scott's gaze swept over, and saw that the wire fence between his home and James's had been cut.

"Fuck! Davis father and son are all dogshit!" he seethed with anger, picked up the pliers, and snapped off more wire mesh, bundling it with the rest and dragging it off to sell for scrap, hoping to scrounge up enough money for a night out with the ladies.

......

House of Beast, everyone arrived at the club three hours early.

Martin shouted, "Old Cloth, bring out that goddamn poster."

Bruce carried a bundle of posters over and placed them on the stage.

Hart came over and unfolded one, which had photos of the club in operation, with all the customers' faces blurred out so only the silhouettes of women could be seen.

Prominent font formed the most straightforward message—Every night after ten o'clock, House of Beast welcomes tough guys!

Hart understood and, full of gratitude, said, "Martin Dad, I have to call you Martin Dad, you've saved my brother! My suffering, struggling brother…"

Martin pushed him away, "I only want your daughter."

Hart, who had long since lost any sense of shame, shouted to everyone, "You are all my witnesses, starting tonight, I'm saving up for gender reassignment surgery, next year you'll have to call me Miss Hart!"

Bruce urged, "Quit the chatter, you stupid pig, get to work."

Martin yelled at Ivan and the others, "Go paste the posters out on the billboard, and whoever's too damn slow, I'll marry Miss Hart off to him, let you love each other for ten thousand years!"

Everyone hurried to act, none wanting to marry Miss Hart.

Whether to explode or be exploded was a dilemma.

On the second floor, Vincent came out of his office and stood by the railing.

Martin turned back, "Boss, we can't just let people come in without oversight."

"I know," Vincent leaned on the railing with both hands, "They can hit on each other all they want, but they must not mess around in my club."

It wasn't difficult, after ten o'clock the House of Beast simply became the most common nightclub.

Martin had said all that needed to be said, he didn't understand club management.

And he was just a temporary worker paid by the hour.

......

Outside the club, a poster was placed in the display case, immediately attracting the attention of many passersby.

Anyone in Atlanta with even a slight interest in social news knew what the House of Beast was.

Men, some things don't require teaching.

A simple math problem written here might be incomprehensible to many men.

But more complex hints, men would understand and get the idea after seeing them.

Two friends were looking at the poster, one asked, "Coming to check it out tonight?"

The other replied, "Buddy, you know, I'm all for freedom and equality!"

That afternoon, people in the vicinity who had read "The Atlanta Interstellar News" made a special trip to check it out; seeing the posters put up by the House of Beast, they re-planned their evening.

As darkness fell, a long line of female customers formed in front of the House of Beast.

In the past couple of days, the club had issued related announcements; those who didn't like it could leave after ten.

Ironically, more female customers came.

When out for fun, it was always better to meet someone suitable in one place rather than having to venture to other venues.

At half-past eight in the evening, at the Black Bar across the street, twenty young and strong black guys were escorted to the large private room on the second floor.

Boyette was waiting for them there, saying, "You are the finest young men I handpicked from South City, each one of you the best. I give you the chance to make money, and you need to help me make money too!"

He looked at Diego, "Did you explain everything clearly?"

Diego replied, "I went over it carefully, twice."

Boyette's gaze swept across all the black faces before suddenly pulling a gun from his waistband, "Remember, no matter how enthusiastic the people coming at you are, no matter how much money they are willing to give you, you are not to leave immediately. You have to bring them into the bar, get them to spend money! Once they've spent enough, whatever happens next, I don't care."

These black guys didn't have many options, the local big-shot offering them a chance, they took it.

A few minutes later, twenty black guys showed off their strong muscles, standing outside the Black Bar, waiting for the customers their boss referred to.

Although women were continuously entering the bar, none came from the House of Beast across the street.

After a while, hundreds of men were queuing up in front of the House of Beast.

"Go across the street! The House of Beast opens to men after ten o'clock," a customer coming out of the Black Bar told his friend, "It's full of thirsty sluts over there, they'll hook up with you easily."

The two hurried across the road to get in line on the other side.

The news quickly spread inside the Black Bar, and more men came out, hurrying to the other side.

Those who regularly hung out at nightclubs near West Strip knew that people coming out of the House of Beast at night were especially easy to pick up and were big spenders.