Grandfather can’t go into the club.

Liam and Owen work as bouncers at a high-class club. When an old man tries to get in one day, they treat him badly. Their boss doesn’t want “that kind of person” in the club, and the bartender drugs him too. The man’s secret name comes out, but it may be too late for them and their boss.A strong bass beat on Mr. Wilson’s chest like a heartbeat that wouldn’t stop, which was very different from his own calm heartbeat.

The neon light coming from the club’s huge mouth cast horrible shadows on the cobblestones. The sign up top said, “Inferno: Where Every Night is Scorching.” He felt like a moth drawn to a flame, though—foolish and out of place. Still, maybe something pushed him forward—a dare from his granddaughter or a flash of anger from his youth. He fixed his tweed jacket, which was a holdover from the days when suits fit like a second skin, and walked up to the iron gates that led into the club.Two figures came out of the darkness, bathed in the sickly red light of a floodlight. A lot of protein shakes have helped young guys, barely out of their teens, get bigger. The bigger one, Liam, laughed. “ID, please, Grandpa,” he asked with a fake sense of humor in his voice. Mr. Wilson’s smile was real, and the insult didn’t bother him. He told him, “No need, young man.” “I assure you, I’m well past needing identification.” Owen, who was the shorter one, laughed. “Then you no longer need to be here either. No, this is not a senior center. “This is Hell.” Mr. Wilson’s smile broke, and he looked like he was hurt. But he straightened his back, and his sadness turned into defiance. “I see,” he said, getting louder. “And what, pray tell, makes this inferno exclusive?”Liam pumped his chest up. “Old man, this club has rules.” People who feed off of the heat are the only ones we let in.Mr. Wilson laughed in a dry way. “My boy, heat without substance is just smoke and mirrors. Your door policy sounds more like a draft, to be honest.” Owen, always the practical one, stepped in when Liam got angry. He put up his hand and said, “Look, gramps.” “There are rules.” Only make reservations.”

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