brett and garret

Who: Brett and Garret
Where: The Kitten Club
When: Evening

Brett had spent most of the day sleeping, dead tired after being up for most of the night. Not that he'd been able to fall asleep the moment he'd gotten home - he'd spent several hours tossing and turning and cursing the bitch's name and the day she came into his life and then himself for being insane enough to do what he did. Sleep had come eventually though, fitfully, until it had been time to get up. Get up, grab a coffee, and head out to work, lack of sleep making his usual foul temper even worse. That wouldn't matter though, given his role.

His job for that night was one of his intermittently reoccurring ones: security of sorts at the Kitten Club. Watch the stage door, watch the backstage entrance, be glowering and big and make sure that nobody bothered the girls. It was an easy role and one he actually didn't mind - not that he'd ever admit to that. Nor would he ever use the word 'enjoy' in relation to it. Brett determinedly took no joy at all from his life, one may even say he made a point of it. But there he was, suited and booted - though unshaven - moving around between the backstage area, and the occasional trip around the floor, checking for any of the usual troublemakers. Occasionally he'd stop and talk to one of the customers, or one of the girls, if he was wanted, or needed.