CHAPTER 2 #2
As if on cue, the skeezy man from earlier walks up to the bar holding a briefcase.
He stands out in the club, wearing a ratty blazer despite the much too warm temperature.
He is quickly intercepted and escorted upstairs to our table where he sits across from us.
Derek pulls out his iconic razor blade. It’s a brilliant instrument of intimidation – both a weapon and a genuine fidget tool.
“It’s all here.” The man slides the case across the table. “My apologies for the delay.”
“Sparks, give it a once over,” Derek commands nonchalantly, asserting his dominance over the table.
This dynamic has been carefully crafted.
While Derek and I are in reality equal partners, this faux division of authority serves several purposes.
One, it allows me to maintain a level of anonymity.
No one knows who his partner is, it couldn’t possibly be the eye candy in the dress, could it?
Idiots. Two, my subservience implicitly serves as an example for the poor fuck across the table.
He unknowingly follows my lead, and lets Derek stay in control of the group. Rather genius if you ask me.
I flip open the briefcase and leaf through a few of the bundles of bills.
I don’t remember how much is supposed to be in here, and I don’t really care.
If he has the balls to stiff us to our faces, we’ll just have to have an additional conversation.
One that he won’t enjoy nearly as much. I shut the briefcase and give Derek a disinterested nod.
One of the security members takes the case for processing and accounting.
I recline in the booth, ready for Derek to wrap this up.
“See, all there.” The creep from across the table waves his hand. “A little steep, but worth it for the pleasure of doing business with such a pretty face.”
My eyes flick up to meet his, except he’s looking much lower.
The nerve of this prick. It’s one thing for payment to be late.
It happens. A single warning is usually enough to ensure it doesn’t continue.
But this asshole is so brazen to come into my club and treat this meeting with such flippancy? No. This isn’t happening.
“I think you could use a lesson in respect,” I say casually, examining my cuticles. “Stand.”
“What?” He huffs. “Learn to take a joke, sugartits.”
Heads whip to face him, and I swear I heard one of the guards gasp. For the first time, the man across the table squirms as he realizes that was perhaps not the wisest thing to say. Derek clasps his fingers behind his head and chuckles, excited to watch the show unfold.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me.” The only sign of my anger is the glare in my eyes. “Stand.”
Before he can move, a duo of guards grab his shoulders and a third yanks his chair out from under him. His face pales as he stands, shaking in front of the table. I reach up and grab my glass, admiring the small amount of amber liquid left in the glass.
“Kneel,” I command.
I stare at the swirling whiskey. The third guard whips out a baton and drives it into the back of the prick’s knees.
He cries out as he falls to the ground, arms suspended above him by the other two guards.
I slowly sip the last of my drink before standing, drawing out every second with deliberate and concise movements.
I hold my empty glass out as a waitress takes it away. My hand stays in the air, waiting patiently until a new drink is placed in it. I take a sip of the whiskey, allowing the liquid to burn my throat in the way I love so much.
“Derek, do you think that there should be a one-time increase on next month’s payment? Maybe five percent?” I look at him over my shoulder as I take a second sip.
“Works for me.” Derek plays along. “Thanks for the idea.”
I set down the glass and then turn toward the simpering man cowering on the ground. I place a finger under his chin and direct his gaze to meet mine. He nods frantically.
“Five percent!” He exclaims. “Brilliant!”
I lean in close, and just for a moment allow him to see the rage behind my calm facade.
“Not bad for a pretty face, huh?” Venom drips from my words, whispered just loud enough for him to hear. I snap back into character and face Derek, gesturing vaguely at the kneeling man. “I’m bored. Can you finish up here?”
“My pleasure.” Derek smirks, rising from his seat.
I don’t stick around to see what happens next, I’m already walking down the staircase toward the thumping bass and strobing lights.
That’s another reason why we chose to open a club instead of a restaurant or other money laundering classics.
Electricity. The flashing lights and blasting speakers require obscene amounts of energy to function.
While it’s rough on the utility bill, it provides me with an extra layer of protection.
See, ever since Synergy Labs exploded, I’ve had the ability to manipulate electricity streams. Pushing, pulling, redirecting. The only catch is that there has to be electricity already available to use. Simple physics, the law of conservation of energy.
This might seem like a blessing. It’s a pretty neat party trick and comes in handy for self-defense. What’s not to like?
But my abilities came at a cost. That explosion set off a series of events seemingly determined to ruin my life.
My mother’s death. Being driven into the arms of my abuser.
Leaving him while stumbling headfirst into the embrace of another.
Pushing Astrid away, not trusting her to know the secrets I hid for so long.
I tried to protect her, to keep her from the dirty truth of my past. She knew me not as Sparks, but as Anise, due to my love of black licorice and star anise.
When she found out about the double-life I led, our relationship crumpled.
She walked away without so much as a glance over her shoulder, so I was determined to not look back either.
Derek scraped me off the floor and helped me build this empire. Together, we organized underground casinos, fighting rings, street racing... If you can bet on it, we host it. We also have a few clubs around town, partially to clean money, partially just because.
It wasn’t easy. There were times he had to throw a bucket of ice water on me after I found the bottom of too many bottles.
A different man every night, not eating due to “lack of appetite,” trashing my apartment just to feel a semblance of control.
Derek decided that my grief wasn’t allowed to kill me.
He set me straight, forced me to take care of myself.
I don’t know why he did it. Maybe it’s because he genuinely liked my friendship.
Or I remind him of his late little sister.
Or it could be as simple as that I was too valuable of a weapon to die.
I prefer to think it’s one of the other reasons though.
Through the past few months, he’s become the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever had.
But I’m better now. Jack’s dead, and I’m alive. Astrid broke up with me, but that’s her problem, not mine. I’m done being responsible for anyone else but me. The bartender passes me a shot and I throw it back, relishing in the warmth of my cheeks. Tonight, I’m getting laid.
I strut onto the dance floor. The horde of bodies jump and sway in a chaotic frenzy.
Sweat glistens on limbs clinging to each other.
Skimpy straps slide off of glossy shoulders.
Button-ups lose a few of their buttons. This is my kind of crowd.
A blonde woman catches my eye, her long hair whips around as she spins to the melody floating through the air.
She reminds me of Astrid. Carefree, vibrant, radiant. I…
No. Take a breath. Refocus.
A few male candidates swagger toward me, raring to throw their hats into the ring. That’s more like it.
I size them up, admiring their muscular forearms and broad shoulders. One man extends his hand to me. Intrigued, I take it, and he twirls me into him. He places his hands on my hips, swaying in time to the music.
“My name’s Peter,” he says in a sultry voice. “What’s yours?”
“You can call me whatever you want to, baby,” I purr. “So long as you can show me a good time.”
“That can be arranged.” Peter winks, pulling me in closer. I can feel the heat of his body through his shirt. His hands slink lower, cupping my ass.
I take a moment to analyze Peter. Dark hair, check. Green eyes, check. Probably a major douche, check. Nothing to remind me of her, check, check, check.
The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a peek of his chest. I run my fingers along the edge, releasing another button. Peter chuckles and plays with the hem of my dress. If he lifts it any higher, it’ll be a shirt.
“Do you want to find a hotel?” I whisper, toying with his collar.
“Lead the way.” He steps toward the main entrance, gesturing for me to walk in front.
Luckily, there’s a cheap hotel just down the block, a pay by the hour kind of place. I frequent the establishment often enough that they have my card on file. The clerk slides a room key across the counter as we walk in, and I grab it as I call the elevator.
“Do they know you here?” Peter asks skeptically.
“Do you care?” I raise my eyebrow.
I grab his hand as the elevator arrives. Within a few moments, the doors close, and we are locked in a fiery embrace. His hands tangle in my hair as I yank his lapel. As the doors reopen, we stumble out and stagger toward our room.
His hands grip my thighs and lift me around his waist. I wrap my arms around his neck, trailing kisses down his-
Thud .
Ow.
“Sorry!” Peter takes a step back and carefully steps through the doorway, being more mindful to not slam me into the wall.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Just keep going.