“Guards! Get the fuck off the stage!” DJ’s voice boomed in the huge room, and Ryder pushed his way through the patrons crowding the stage while scouting for the green shirts of his guards. One got there before he did, yanking a drunk Worm off the edge of the stage. The guy had some size from the hard labor as a miner, so Ryder continued through to assist his guard in getting the man away from the dancer, who looked absolutely pissed.
“This is bullshit!” the patron bellowed, still clinging on to his beer and spilling it on himself, the guard, and all over Ryder as he caught the flailing arm.
“Please make room!” the guard bellowed, and people stepped back for Ryder and the guard to pull the patron through to the front doors. They tossed him out of it, and he rolled around, swearing drunkenly.
“Stay away for a week!” Ryder sneered.
“You can’t do that.”
“This is my place. I set the rules, and now you stay away for two weeks.” Ryder tried to keep his voice level, but he knew by now that the amount of alcohol the patron had consumed doubled with a fat, throbbing dick could get any man in trouble.
A guard came out and moved to whisper something to Ryder. “He bruised the dancer. He’s off stage for tonight.”
“It was an accidental head butt, but he grabbed a nut that’s now sore.”
It was one thing for an idiot to think he should dance along on stage, another was groping, and Ryder’s temper went from irritated to piss-boiling angry in a split second. He stepped forward and swung a fist, colliding with the man’s cheekbone, sending him sprawling. The guy stayed down and unconscious, finally letting go of the beer which broke on the street.
“Don’t ever grope my dancers!” Ryder bellowed and turned to look at the people still waiting in line, hoping to get in. “I can deal with a lot of shit, but never, ever grope my staff!”