I’ve never been more confused in my life. Warning bells are going off in my mind, and I suddenly remember Phoenix giving me stringent instructions not to ask about his job or go poking around where I’m not supposed to. And yet here I am, standing in a club, or above a club, that Jack apparently owns. You’re causing trouble again, Camille. Perhaps if I were better at following instructions or listening to warnings when I’m given them, I would turn away now and go home. I would put all this to rest and let my curiosity subside. But I am none of those things.
