<em>William Shea “Bert”: October 15th 2011 7:38 PM- Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>Bert drove his black Chevy Tahoe smoothly into the dirt parking lot out front of the “Fucking Gulch” and parked around the back. He always parked back there, just in case some clever asshole tried to slip out the back, Bert could run them down in his truck without giving them too much of a head start. It also made him feel more at ease with the general duties of being The Gulch’s head of security without having to worry that someone might be out vandalizing his truck after getting the boot from the club.<br/><br/>Doc’s Harley was already parked out front, it wasn’t often that any of the employees besides Joshua was at work before Bert. Nonetheless, Doc had proven himself trustworthy and Bert wasn’t worried about him doing anything dishonest. He did, however, take a moment to admire Doc’s fine American chopper; truly a piece of art. A beast of a machine, loud and fast. Though he knew more about cars and trucks, bikes had fascinated Bert for a while.<br/><br/>Bert entered the old, run-down building through the back, as was his routine, locking the back door behind himself. It would be easier to enter through the front and just leave the back locked, but this way he always knew for certain that the back entrance was locked because he did it himself.<br/><br/>The sounds of Doc, setting up downstairs could be heard as Bert turned on the neon sign and took his seat next to the front door. He unlocked the “Trigger-Lock” that kept anyone but him from using the Mossberg 12-Gauge that sat behind his little counter. He opened up the big, hard-bound ledger book next and inked in Doc’s name, listing the time as “early”, since he didn’t know for sure how long his coworker had been there. Following with an accurate account of his own arrival.<br/><br/>Lastly, Bert set out the framed picture of his son, that rested on the corner of his desk. A constant reminder of what it was he was working for.<br/><br/><em>William Shea “Bert”: October 15th 2011 8:00PM- Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>It wasn’t long at all before the girls started arriving. A clean sounding engine that Bert didn’t recognize first drew his eyes to the window that overlooked the parking lot. He didn’t recognize the well-maintained Jaguar that was parking and for a moment dreaded the idea of having to keep a customer at bay without any of the girls on call. Never a fun assignment.<br/><br/>Bert was relieved, however, to see the tall, leggy young-woman in a trench coat step out. She was beautiful and had chestnut colored hair. He quickly realized that she must be the new girl, Miss Ruby, that Joshua had mentioned would be starting today.<br/><br/>Standing to greet her, Bert smiled and held out his arm to take her coat, going over in his mind the best way to introduce himself without sounding like a fool. The point ended up being moot, as Miss Ruby seemed in an awful hurry and blew right past, still wearing her trench coat.<br/><br/>Bert sat down, slightly dismayed at going unnoticed, yet slightly relieved at the same time. As he wrote Miss Ruby’s name into the log book, he decided to clock her in fifteen minutes earlier than she’d actually arrived. Giving her credit for the hustle.<br/><br/><em>William Shea “Bert”: October 15th 2011 8:45 PM- Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>Bert passed the time listening to the somewhat muffled voices of Doc and Miss Ruby coming from downstairs, in his mind creating elaborate scandals about what they could be discussing at such length, having just met one another. He was in the midst of imagining Miss Ruby revealing that in fact it was Doc who fathered her bi-racial Siamese twins when he heard the sound of Miss Amethyst’s Jetta rolling in.<br/><br/>Miss Amethyst was always nice to Bert and certainly not hard on the eyes either. He did her the favor of clocking her in at that moment, rather than waiting until she stepped inside as was customary. He’d just finished filling out her log-line when she breezed through the door.<br/><br/>“Good Evening Miss Amethyst.” Bert nodded politely, his voice so deep and resonant that one could almost feel the nails in the walls rattle when he spoke.<br/><br/>The two often conversed about many things, but today, it seemed was not a good day for small-talk. After the briefest and most cursory of greetings, Miss Amethyst was swishing downstairs, still in her coat as well, depriving Bert of both the honor of hanging the garment up for her as well as the pleasure of checking out what she was (or wasn’t) wearing underneath.<br/><br/>The big bouncer just shrugged his shoulders to himself and leaned back in his chair, concocting new twist for his invented melodrama unfolding downstairs, made richer by the introduction of a new character.<br/><br/>Perhaps Amethyst was Doc’s wife, and didn’t appreciate her husband fathering biracial Siamese twins by another woman.<br/><br/><em>William Shea “Bert”: October 15th 2011 9:05 PM- Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>Bert recognized the stylish Lincoln Towncar in an instant, he was one of the regulars around The Gulch. “Napoleon” as he was known within these walls, was rumored to be very particular about his experience and had a “thing” for Miss Indigo, arguably The Gulch’s most popular working girl.<br/><br/>Upon entering, Napoleon all but threw his coat at Bert, who had to flail about a bit to prevent the heavy, wool garment from touching the ground. As Bert fed a hanger into the shoulders of the coat, Napoleon got right to business.<br/><br/>“Indigo here yet?” Napoleon asked- no, demanded from Bert, already sounding impatient.<br/><br/>“Not yet, Mister Napoleon, Sir.” Bert answered, hanging the client’s coat up respectfully as his bass voice rattled the floorboards once more. “If you like, I could call up Miss Amethyst. Or, we also have a new girl who’s just started tonight. Her name is Miss-”<br/><br/>“Not interested.” Napoleon snapped, cutting Bert off before he could finish. “When will Indigo be arriving?”<br/><br/>“Well, given the fact that she ain’t here yet, later would be my guess.” Bert answered wryly, trying hard not to sound as irritated as he was becoming.<br/><br/>Napoleon was stricken silent by that last comment, looking over at Bert the way one inspects a stain on their clothes. Bert merely crossed his massive, chiseled, black arms over his chest and stared back at him.<br/><br/>“Well what the fuck am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Napoleon asked, still impatient and not at all growing more tolerant over time.<br/><br/>“Well, you could drop your deposit and go downstairs to the basement and make yourself comfortable. Or you could stay up here, snappin’ at me until we really have a problem. Which would you prefer?”<br/><br/>Napoleon nearly dropped his bill fold, counting out the house’s cut.<br/><br/><em>William Shea “Bert”: October 15th 2011 10:30 PM- Fucking Gulch</em><br/><br/>Bert knew the sound of Miss Indigo’s Dodge Challenger even at a distance. The poor vehicle had not been cared for by her ex husband, and she seemed to take her resentment against him out on that beautiful machine. He secretly longed to get under the hood of that classic, American Muscle Machine. At very least the poor car needed to have its fuel injection system cleaned out and from the way she always had to turn her key several times to get the engine to turn, he guessed it was overdue for a new alternator as well. But that was his other life and these things weren’t discussed openly within the Fucking Gulch.<br/><br/>“You got one on the books, Miss Indigo.” Bert’s bass boomed, as Miss Indigo arrived and gave him a hug.<br/><br/>Bert kissed her cheek, ever so lightly, as he’d done many times before. It wasn’t a liberty he took with just any of the girls, but he’d known Indigo for some time and liked her very much. In truth, he had thought a time or two about “Getting Under The Hood” with her as well, though it wasn’t the sort of thing a shy, gentle giant like Bert would ever act upon on his own.<br/><br/>When Indigo shrugged out of her overcoat and handed it off to Bert, it was all he could do to stop his jaw from falling open. She was dressed to kill and had all the right curves to make her skimpy outfit work. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that he checked the girls out anymore, as he’d found it made most of them feel good to know that their grooming efforts had the desired effect.<br/><br/>“You look amazing.” Bert muttered softly, not really to anyone in particular as Indigo rushed upstairs to go see to Napoleon’s latest conquest.<br/><br/>It wasn’t long before the sounds of Napoleon’s trademark “Hack and Slash” technique could be heard in the reception area. Bert did his best not to feel jealous over it, Miss Indigo wasn’t the type of woman who’d ever be interested in a man like himself with grease under his nails. Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but imagine the scene again with the roles reversed: Napoleon taking his coat and Miss Indigo subject to his desires behind a closed door.<br/><br/>In no time at all, Napoleon was on his way out again. Bert held out the man’s coat to him as he passed.<br/><br/>“Thanks for visiting, come back and see us again soon.” Bert said through a smile as Napoleon rushed out to his car.<br/><br/>Bert couldn’t wait to see what else the night had in store for the staff of Fucking Gulch.