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     �	  The Anti 9-to-5 
 by Lucifuge5  

 Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. Written for fun, not
profit

 Author's Notes: Written for Ifreet.

 Story Notes: AU of "Chicago Holiday" inspired by a viewing of said
episode. This is the first chapter of the Leather Kisses series.

 

 Stella slammed the cordless phone onto its base. Having left three
voicemails--the last one ending with an "or else!"--on Janna Zuniga's
answering machine, she tapped her right foot while considering her
options.

 It was more than obvious that Janna, a.k.a. 'DJ Jezebel', was not going
to show up. Stella exhaled, feeling very annoyed at herself. She really
should have known better, after all these years, not to accept one of
Ray's offers to help her with staffing. Hadn't she always been Leather
Kisses' sole owner? She had fought hard to keep it during the divorce
proceedings, hardest than the time she stood up to her father when he
tried to convince her that she didn't have a head for business. That she
had never practiced (though she passed the Bar Exam) didn't mean she
hadn't read her fair share of books on property laws.

 She tapped her pen against the desk while looking though the one-way
mirror that was in front of her and out to the dance floor. Cocking her
head to the side, she made a face as the song came to and end . . . and
started up. Again.

 Thankfully, it was early enough, barely eleven p.m., that even the
regulars knew the 'real' music (whatever that was these days) wouldn't be
trying to burst out their eardrums for another hour. She could always ring
DJ Leatherette up, whom despite being a former Navy SEAL had a music
collection big enough to appeal to anyone from the S crowd to the random
tourist who was looking for an 'adventure'.

 Still, calling him this late meant having to fork over about an extra
hundred dollars. On the other hand, it was Friday night and she knew
people were in the mood to party. Having made her decision, she flipped
her Rolodex open while cursing at Ray and his flaky acquaintances one last
time.

 A flash of movement to the right side of the floor caught her attention.
There was a young woman--maybe young enough to be a teenager--wearing a
short black dres and trying to squeeze her way to the bar.

 Marcus was behind the bar, all by himself for another half hour before
Delishious, the six-foot drag queen who was a fabulous bartender to boot,
was due to show up. She liked the way Marcus worked . . . for the most
part. He was efficient (his till was never off, not even by a penny which
impressed Stella who had had to deal with the occasional sticky-fingered
staff member) and charming enough to get everyone (down to the guy wearing
the French maid outfit) to buy at least a couple of drinks. The problem
with Marcus had to do with what was happening right this very moment: he
never asked for I.D. as long as the clientele slipped a couple of extra
dollars his way. Stella smirked with annoyance. That was sure to cause
some trouble sooner rather than later.

 She was about to call James, her main security person, and ask her to
escort the teenager out when, seemingly out of nowhere, there was a guy
wearing a very convincing Mountie dress uniform sliding next to the teen,
taking her drink and handing it back to Marcus. The teenager pulled a
face, turned around and walked away from the Mountie and toward the
ladies' bathroom.

 Stella settled back on her chair, found DJ Leatherette's number and spent
the next ten minutes discussing and eventually agreeing to the DJ's fee
for a last-minute replacement. Having doused that fire down, she then went
through the payroll ledger and started to figure out everyone's salaries
including her own. The staff was sure to be dropping by the office to pick
up their paychecks once the club closed its doors at 5:30 a.m.

 *****

 It was her stomach's grumbling what got her out of the club before the
raid went down. Sure she could have called Vinnie's and ordered some late
night takeout, but she wanted some fresh air and a bite or two of
something greasy before she had to finish up the payroll.

 If she was honest with herself though, she also wanted to stretch her
legs a little. For Stella wanted to shimmy alongside the rest of her club
patrons once all of the office paperwork was done. So, she locked
everything up and stepped out into the cool night thinking that she would
be back in one hour. Unfortunately, there hadn't been any seats available
at Vinnie's so, she had ended up getting her order to go.

 Twenty minutes later, she was standing across the street from Leather
Kisses, holding the carry-out bag with both hands, while looking at an
actual paddy-wagon being slowly filled up with everyone who was at the
club.

 Her gaze shifted to the Mountie guy, now handcuffed to the teenage girl,
while he spoke to a classy and good-looking guy wearing a long camel hair
coat.

 Stella dropped the bag of fast food on the hood the car right next to her
and searched her purse for her cellphone. Maybe Chelsea would be able to
get her staff out of central booking without too much trouble.

 She squared her shoulders while dialing her attorney's private number and
mentally preparing herself for the long night ahead of her.  
� 

End The Anti 9-to-5 by Lucifuge5 

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