Three Weeks To Opening

Finally, she'd managed to pin the owner of The LimeLight, one Mr Clyde, down to a meeting in which to discuss the club's progress. So, Colby was currently sitting in the front living room of his rather swish pad, feeling incredibly uncomfortable while he paced around, waiting for him to sit down and give her his attention. Which he eventually did.

"So, Colby, how's my club coming along?" he asked, leaning forward onto his knees.

Colby crossed her legs as she leaned forward, too.

"Well, sir, pretty much everything is going according to schedule," she told him. "The structural overhaul is completed, the teams have moved onto refitting the interior ready for furnishing such. As far as I'm aware, around eighty percent of the building is fully plumbed and supplied with electricity, and the last twenty percent is in the works. The suppliers have all been in touch with me, and the bulk orders are being readied as we speak to be delivered the week before opening."

Clyde leaned back in his seat, nodding his head. His expression was duly impressed as he smiled, tugging his tie loose.

"Have to say, you're the best damn manager I've come across," he complimented her. "I know I should've been more involved, but I'm just not a hands on kinda guy. You've got it all under control, that's pretty cool in my book. Not bad for a girl I found working some two-copper bar down at the Docks."

Colby fidgeted uncomfortably. She wasn't sure she wanted him to keep mentioning that - as it was, when he'd actually met her, she had just been fired for having too many suggestions on how to improve the place and its clientele.

"Any problems I should know about?" Clyde went on, lifting his whisky to take a sip. Grey eyes watched her over the rim of said glass.

"Actually, Mr Clyde -"

"Please, call me Bugs," he waved a hand with a charming smile. "All my business associates do."

Colby swallowed, blinking rapidly as she processed this into her mental image of George Clarence Clyde, club owner and entrepreneur.

"All right ... Bugs," she conceded with an awkward smile. "Well, one of your associates could be the problem. Uh, Mr Shriver?"

Clyde's smile widened, and those grey eyes swept over Colby where she sat, taking in the business-like but form-fitting black trousers and shirt.

"DS is harmless," he said dismissively. "What did he do, make a pass at you? So long as you put him straight, he won't be a bother to you."

Colby's cheeks flushed at the reminder of her encounter with 'DS' Schriver. Clearing her throat, she surged on, ignoring the uncomfortably quick rise of heat in response to that thought.

"To be honest, sir - Bugs - I can deal with unwanted advances," she assured him, trying not to feel pleased with his acknowledging nod and grin. "What has me concerned are the specifications he has for that private room you insisted on having built. Sir, he's insisting on a concealed door, peek holes, provisions for a week at a time ... these are kinda worrying to me. We're licensed to sell alcohol, not harbour criminals."

Clyde let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he chuckled into his whisky glass.

"DS is no criminal," he grinned cheerfully. "Look, you leave him and his specs to me, okay, doll? I'll deal with them. You just keep worrying that pretty head over getting my club open on time."

"But, sir ..." Colby was concerned at his lack of interest in this. "Sir, I realise this is an odd footing to put my concerns on, but since I'm going to be living over the club in a matter of weeks, I would like to be sure of being safe there. If you can't give me a definite guarantee of my safety, then I may as well just quit right here and now."

"You're not quitting." It wasn't a plea, or even a question. It was a firm statement of fact, one she could not argue with. "If any trouble kicks off, DS'll make sure you're kept out of it. Even if he can't do that, he'll keep you safe. I'll be seriously pissed off if he doesn't. Is that clear, Miss Summers?"

Colby leaned back in her seat as non-aggressively as she could manage. Bugs Clyde was not the kind of man whose temper you wanted to be on the wrong side of. He held her gaze sternly for a long moment, and then, just as suddenly as he had become stern, became cheerful and businesslike once again.

"In fact, since you and I are to be the only ones involved directly with the club aware of that room's presence, I'm going to raise your pay," he told her with that charming smile she was certain got him almost everything he wanted. "And for that extra cash in hand, doll, you'll be the one serving that room when it is in use. No sense in alarming the staff when we get them."

"What?" It came out as more of a squeak than an exclamation, Colby sitting bolt upright in her chair once again in shock. "Sir, seriously, I can't wait on a private room as well as manage the club -"

"I have every faith in you, Colby." Clyde stood up, ushering her up and out of her seat, over to the door. "You're a fine manager, and I'm sure once you and DS get over this little upset, you'll be a great team. I look forward to hearing your progress reports. Keep in touch."

The door closed in her face. Colby blinked, staring at the wood. Just how do you go into a business meeting with one job, and come out with another one?

One Week To Opening

Well, The LimeLight was ready for business, Colby thought to herself, looking around the spic-and-span club with a real sense of accomplishment. From a empty shell of a building to this, in just four weeks ... even she was impressed.

The approach to the club outside had been handled superbly by the security team Bugs Clyde, the owner, had supplied. All the local gangs and troublemakers had been firmly informed that any trouble whatsoever involving the club or its patrons would be dealt with - although she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know exactly what 'dealt with' meant in this case.

Still, it was a pleasure to walk along the cobbled road outside and be able to look up at the black facade of the building, knowing that as soon as the sun went down the lights would come on, painting the black shadows with green light as the name of the club shone out above the door.

As they entered, the patrons would be greeted in the plush foyer by coat-check girls and security, ready to check in belongings that included weapons of all kinds. So long as you didn't lose your ticket, or cause trouble, you'd get everything back by the end of the night.

From the foyer, patrons and club goers would be welcomed into the club proper, where an array of round tables sat on rich blue carpeting, surrounding the polished oak dancefloor and stage. On the stage, there would be a live band every night, playing a pre-arranged assortment of classic swing and jazz, true classical pieces, old rhythm-and-blues, vocal arrangements ... music you could listen to, talk under, dance to, all at the same time.

The lighting was soft white, with a focus on the stage proper and the dancefloor, tapering off to gentler, more forgiving blue and purple around the edges of the huge room, where the booths were set, offering a little more privacy to those who wished it. The bar stretched along one entire side of the room, also in highly polished oak, backlit in white and blue, and reflecting the room itself with a huge mirror set behind the array of shelves.

The patrons would have a choice between waitress service, or self-service, allowing for a mixture of movement and comfort as the night wore on. And from opening each night until around ten, the kitchens would be serving full meals for the enjoyment of the club goers.

What The LimeLight offered was a complete night out, and Colby desperately hoped people would take them up on that offer. Which, unfortunately, meant a whole lot of work in the week to come.

Publicity. She hated the word, let alone the actual action. Still, it had to be done if she was going to keep Clyde and Shriver convinced that she could do this to their satisfaction. Quite when Donal Shriver's good graces had come into her evaluation of how well she was doing, Colby didn't know, and she wasn't entirely sure she cared to know why. Mind you, he'd been gone for a good while now, and ... She stopped herself. Why did it even matter that Mr Interference wasn't here?

She leaned on the bar, finishing up the work rota for the staff that would be sent out to each of them as well as posted up in the staff room. It was busy work, of course, anything to keep her from having to finish the invitations to all the major publications, as well as the leading citizens of RhyDin city, for the opening night.

But it had to be done. And besides ... The LimeLight was worth it, wasn't it?