Inside a private room on the second floor of the bar.
A black man stood by the one-way mirror, cigar in his right hand, overlooking the entire ground floor of the bar.
Listening to the rhythmic music and watching the twisting crowd on the dance floor, his lips slightly curved up; this was a vampire's world, a world that belonged to him.
As a black man, owning all this had not been easy.
"Bang, bang."
There was a knock at the door. The man was about to speak when the door creaked open.
The black man cursed with the hand holding his cigar, "Fuck, did I let you in? Don't you know the rules?"
The black bodyguard stood awkwardly at the door, and before he could speak, David pushed him aside, "LAPD, are you Robbin Doug?"
The black man's right hand froze in mid-air, retracted awkwardly, and he said sternly, "Yes, I am. What do you want?
Even if you're LAPD, you can't just barge into my bar.
You respect me, and I'll respect you."
