Billionaire Rock Star

ays with a wink. I smile at him. It's clear Max commands respect here. The waitresses now glide up to the bar, checking in with him before returning to the cro

ng drinks with precision while never missing a beat

intimidating opulence. He begins my unofficial training right away, testing me on different drinks, sharing insights into what many of the patrons like to drink, things I might suggest, revealing just enough to pique my interest but never too much. I'm not much of an alcohol person, but my homework paid off. I studied all the different types of liquor, I know what they are, what

in equal measure, and him, the seasoned maestro of the room, so adept at reading the room that nothing seems to faze him. I'm starting to feel it-the rhythm of the Sapphire Club-and it's exhilarating. I can't wait to start work that night as a waitress. "Okay, cowgirl, your uniform is waiting for you in your room. You're due at 6:00, so you might want to freshen up. More details about the waitressing job are on a sheet in your room. You'll do just fine. You're in room 7. Head that way," Max says, pointing to some double doors at the back of the club. "Henry will take you upstairs." "Okay, then. I'll see you at 6:00." Thank You

here. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it." It reminds me of a device I used at a restaurant in Los Angeles where I worked for a few months. And there were instructions in my room for it. Nothing complicated. His reassurance is a lifesaver, and I nod, memorizing the functions he points out with practiced ease. He then leads me through the main room, pointing out sections-which will be mine-and sharing information about some of the regulars I'm likely to encounter. He tells me about several regulars I'll probably meet tonight, including a Wall Street guy who's here for a week and only drinks vodka and tonics and lives for the dancers, and a brooding guy at the back ta

c light across the room as the club begins to buzz with the first arrivals. Even in Vegas, there seems to be no sense of time. Everything happens all the time. I watch as men in tailored suits and women in designer dresses enter, the air thick with the cologne of wealth and the scent of intrigue. Many come here, then go gambling, and then either return for the show and dancing or to unwind with another drink or two. It's not long before I place my first order-a Sassenach Blended Scotch on the rocks, for a gentleman with a gaze as sharp as the cut of his jaw. As I en

aracter, revealing her truth as a witness to a crime the film is about. I'm unfamiliar with the rock and modern music that p