A sudden, loud noise interrupts the pulsing dance music. Within moments, the music stops and the speakers go quiet. As if the sudden silence was a signal, the crowd hurriedly heads towards the door of the club. The club empties until only ten people remain, lounging on the long sofa.
Lance’s bodyguards begin to emerge from the dark corners of the club. The menacing men walk in perfect coordination; with their hands placed cooly in their pockets, they separate into two rows and surround the sofa. Lance Hamilton appears behind his bodyguards and assesses the scene. A well-dressed man with greasy hair holds a coquettish woman in his arms.
Andrea Aitkens is sitting on Thomas Rupert’s knees. She has wrapped one of her arms around his neck in an embrace, and she’s gently swaying her long, eleg
