People often ask me how I came to own this place, a shrug and a chuckle is my usual reply. You see I don’t really remember. Scotch and cards probably had something to do with it. I just woke up one morning with the keys to club Ruin in my pocket.
It’s a, off the beaten path kind of place, blank industrial facade, it’s grey face covered in grime from all the commuters that slide past everyday in a hurry to make it through the rat race. One lone door stands sentry, next to a sign announcing my business.
I was not impressed, when I pulled my car up in the middle of the day. I had been hoping for glitz and glamour. A place where twenty-something’s spent their time and money searching for a night of ecstasy.This was not that place. No one would willingly want this place. Probably why it was now mine. I rubbed my forehead, trying to erase the sharpie word SUCKER that must have been put there last night.