VICIOUS MEN: THE COMPLETE VICIOUS CITY COLLECTION

by Renard, Loki

  The little voice in my head whispers the truth I don’t want to hear.

  What he did to Blaze was only a fraction of what he’s done to me. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve seen it rather than been the subject of it. Seeing her on the ground, helpless… I can’t help but consider what I must have looked like those times he had me shackled to the pillar, or tied to the coffee table. I would have looked just as pathetic and helpless, I’m sure.

  “We’re here.” The driver interrupts my train of thought by proving he can actually speak, at least in short sentences.

  “Thanks.”

  I get out of the car and walk the short distance from the curb to Coco’s salon. There’s a sign in the window advertising her services:

  SHANTAY, YOU SLAY,

  LET COCO CUT YOUR HAIR

  STUNNING!

  (CHEQUES CASHED)

  “Hey, Kitty girl!” Coco greets me with a broad smile as I push the door open and step inside. I feel a weight come off my shoulders as it closes behind me. I feel the world get a little lighter, a little more open to possibility, and weirdly, a little more normal.

  “Hey.” I try forcing a smile.

  Coco’s eyes narrow instantly. “What’s wrong, girl?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. I don’t want to start telling Vicious’ friends that he’s an asshole. They know that already.

  “Man troubles?”

  She’s not letting the matter go.

  “Am I that transparent?”

  “Girl, everybody looks like that when they’ve got man troubles.”

  “I’ve got Vicious troubles.”

  Her drawn on brows nearly hit her hairline. “Those are some big ass troubles.”

  “Yes, they are,” I agree.

  She ushers me in and pushes me gently down into a chair in front of her mirror, then stands behind me and starts brushing my hair out. “I didn’t know you two were like that. You’re too young for a man like that, kitty girl. He’ll break you.”

  “Yeah. No shit. Don’t exactly have a choice.”

  “Mhm,” Coco nods. “Oh I understand. When that man wants something, he gets it. But you better be ready to take what he can give, you know what I’m saying?”

  I know exactly what she’s saying. And I know I can’t take a fraction of what he can give, so I better hope he keeps giving me little slivers of it at a time. Thinking about what’s probably going to happen to me when I get back to his apartment makes my butt sweat. I know he’s pissed off. So pissed off he didn’t even lay a finger on me. Yet.

  “Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

  “Hey, look at me.”

  I look up into the mirror. Coco’s expression is determined and warm as she gives me the pep talk I need.

  “Today, I’m going to teach you how to reinvent yourself. He’s Vicious, but Kitty, you’re going to be FIERCE!” She snaps her fingers and rolls her neck.

  I find myself smiling, even laughing as Coco sets up a stream of good humored comments and off the wall jokes She calls makeup ‘paint’. It might as well be for my relative proficiency with it. I thought I knew how to do makeup before, but it turns out I know absolutely nothing. In Coco’s able hands, cosmetics are magic. It’s a long, slow process learning how she contours every part of her face to create various illusions, and it takes most of the day, but I’m happy to be with someone who shows zero interest in beating me, lecturing me, or otherwise dominating the hell out of me.

  “I missed this.”

  “What’s this?” She looks at me. One side of her face is painted with a high brow, big pink eyeshadow, and a clown white base. The other side is sleek with an evening look. She looks utterly deranged, which makes what comes out of my mouth next so surreal.

  “Just being normal.”

  “Girl, if you think this is normal, you have serious problems,” Coco laughs. “You look like you smeared a peacock on your face and you’re wearing two mis-matching pumps. You look like the busted little sister of Cruelle deVille.”

  “This is normal!” I laugh. “More normal than anything else that’s happened to me in a really fucking long time. Well, a week. A lot can change in a week.”

  “A lot can change in a second,” she agrees.

  “How do you know Vicious? I can’t see him hanging out at drag shows, somehow?” Half the pictures on Coco’s wall are from late night venues of the gender fluid bending and twisting persuasion. They don’t seem to be his scene.

  “Then you can’t see him at all,” Coco says. “That man is a lot more than he seems to be.”

  “You mean, he’s gay? Or bi?”

  “No, girl,” Coco laughs. “He’s got more to him than you think. More than I think. He’s everywhere. I met him when I needed some help.”

  “He helped you?”

  “Mhm.”

  “And did he ask you for some ridiculous stuff in return? Like, did you have to… I don’t know, serve him or something?”

  “Serve him?” She lets out a raucous laugh. “Uh, no. He dealt with a homophobe who was threatening some of my girls. Took care of that business real good. No charge. But I do him favors when I can.”

  “So he kept you safe…”

  “It’s what he does. That man is a born protector,” she says, dabbing powder on her nose.

  “Did he ever threaten you? Beat you? Pull a gun on you?”

  Her eyes slide to me. “No. Is he doing those things to you?”

  I probably shouldn’t be telling Coco this. Experience and Vicious tell me to keep my mouth shut, but Vicious won’t let me talk to Blaze, and there’s only so much I can say to him. Coco is the closest thing to a confidante I have right now.

  “The gun thing was to a friend of mine, and I guess it’s not threats, but yeah, he…” god, I can barely bring myself to say it. My voice lowers to a near whisper. “Punishes me.”

  Coco looks over at me, eyes soulful between thick lashes. “And do you deserve it?”

  Shit. That is not the question I thought she’d ask. I thought she’d be scandalized on my behalf. Girl power and all that.

  “I don’t know…”

  “If Vicious is telling you something, doing something, it’s for your own good. He’s one of the good ones. The really good ones,” she tells me firmly. “You should listen to him.”

  My heart sinks. I thought I might have an ally in Coco, but Vicious obviously has her firmly wrapped around his finger. When even NYCs finest gutter salon proprietrix tells you to listen to a man, what hope do you have?

  “Maybe you don’t know him like I do,” I say, dabbing my face furiously. “Maybe one person’s good guy is someone else’s monster.”

  “Maybe,” she agrees. “And maybe you should go a little easier on that countour. You look like a Dorito fucked a can of Crush!”

  6

  Blaze

  I’ve never been carried like this before. I’ve seen it in movies. I’ve read about it in books, but I never knew just how it would feel to be held in a fireman’s carry. Turns out, the guy’s shoulder really fucking digs into your hips.

  Slick doesn’t put me down until we’re down in the parking lot. There he drops me by his car and opens the passenger door for me. I don’t fuck around. I just get in. That gun in my face has shaken me up more than I’d ever admit.

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  Slick glances over at me as he gets into the car. His blue eyes are so damn… I could call them innocent, but it’s not innocence. It’s just his own inimitable self. I didn’t take him in before, but now I do. His hair is pushed back and to the side, half slicked. He looks good.

  “I’m taking you for ice cream,” he says, hitting the auto-start.

  “Again? Really? He put a fucking gun to my head. He threatened YOU, and you’re still going to just get ice cream? Alright, you do you.”

  I sit back and fume to myself.

  Slick is so damn cool about everything. So fucking calm. I have no idea how he can han
dle Vicious. That guy is a fucking psycho. Though, I did notice he never put his finger near the trigger. He kept it straight on the barrel. Like a cop, or a soldier.

  This time we don’t head to the amusement park like we usually do. We don’t head to any park. We head about five blocks down the street and straight into another parking garage.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re home.”

  “Whose home?”

  “Mine,” he smiles.

  “Really? You’re taking me back to your place? That’s what’s happening?”

  “Sure. If I’m going to keep you out of Arthur’s place, I’ll have to keep you in mine.”

  “Who the fuck is Arthur?”

  Slick laughs and gets out of the car. “Come on,” he says, leaning down, his long limbs looking all the longer when he has to bend down like that. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  I’m too curious not to go, of course. Slick is cute as hell. And he’s nice. Really nice. Way too nice for me. He’s a blonde haired, blue eyed, all-American boy scout of a man. Not the sort of guy you usually meet in this business. I’m used to thugs, mongrels, and assholes. Slick is none of those things. Vicious must have some kind of a use for him, but I can’t think what.

  While I’m thinking, I follow his broad back up to the apartment. It turns out to be a nice place. Not as over the top as Vicious’, more simple and clean. There’s a bag of half open chips on the counter.

  “You want ants?”

  He smirks. “You want a drink?”

  “Sure. I’ll have a beer.”

  “You can have a soda,” he says, opening the fridge. “I don’t think you need any mind altering substances.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I roll my eyes at him.

  He hands me a soda and tells me to give him a minute. No problem. I sit down at the breakfast bar, crack the thing and find out if the chips on the counter are still fresh. They’re not. Stale softening has already set in. Gross. This guy needs someone to clean up after him. Not that I can talk. If we were back at my place, it would be a lot less hospitable than this.

  I can hear his footsteps behind me. I don’t bother to turn around. Just play it cool, sipping my soda.

  “So what, I’m just going to hang out here in your place?”

  “Not exactly,” he says.

  His voice is close behind me. I feel his fingertips on the back of my neck. He has a gentle touch. I freeze in place, swallow. What’s this? Is he going to seduce me? It wouldn’t take that much right now. The adrenaline from having Vicious’ big gun in my face has left me excited in every way.

  Slick says nothing. I stay silent. There’s a moment of quiet in which absolutely nothing happens. We’re caught in whatever this is. The pads of his fingers stroke lightly over my skin, sending tingles up and down my spine, my scalp reacting to his touch with waves of pretty prickling sensation. My mind drifts to what it would be like to have sex with him. I think he’d be gentle. Maybe too gentle. I like it a little rough. I need a man who knows how to hold me down and make me really feel…

  Something cool touches my neck. Something hard. I don’t react as it slips around my neck, a smooth, cold band sliding against my skin. The soft click of a clasp makes me reach up to it, my fingers finding metal. I give it a tug. It doesn’t move.

  “What is this?” I turn and look up at him.

  Slick smiles down at me, those innocent blue eyes now deviant as hell. He taps the metal with one finger. “That,” he says, “is a collar.”

  “You weirdo,” I laugh. “Why would you put this on me? Take it off.”

  “Nope.” His hand scruffs the front of my shirt and pulls me off the stool I was sitting on. Off balance, my feet go out from under me and I end up kneeling on the floor. That’s when I notice the other thing he has in his hand. A length of dog chain.

  “What the…”

  He snaps the chain onto the collar and then the other end goes on a hook on the side of the counter which looked innocent and domestic enough until it became part of this twisted little game. He smiles down at me, so damn tall I have to crane my neck just to see his triumphant grin.

  “Time for ice cream, Blaze.”

  7

  Kitty

  A day with Coco has been refreshing for me, but it’s time to clean my face off and go back to face Vicious. I’m not in any hurry to do that for obvious reasons. I know he’s not done with me from earlier. I know he intends to punish me for whatever the fuck it is he considers I’ve done wrong now.

  Coco isn’t much use in that regard. She’s getting ready for a show, letting her makeup ‘bake’, sitting in her chair in nothing but a big loose muumuu dress which will be pulled off to be replaced with the sequined showgirl attire hung up behind her.

  There’s peace here, among the costumes and the bright lights, and I’m lingering against orders. Vicious has sent me two text messages already asking me to come back to the apartment. I can’t keep ignoring them.

  My phone vibrates again. I don’t want to look at it, but it’s reflex. Before I can decide not to read what he’s said now, I’ve already seen it.

  V: HOME. NOW.

  “Alright,” I sigh. “I guess I better go.”

  “Alright, Kitty,” Coco says, giving me a smile. “You listen to him, okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  I’m on my way to the door when it opens and a man steps in.

  “We’re closed, honey,” Coco calls out.

  He says nothing. He walks over to me and the glint of cold metal catches the sparkling light coming from the dressing table. I look at the gun. I look up into his eyes. I don’t recognize him. He has a patchy beard, dishwater brown eyes, and the sort of face you couldn’t pick out of a lineup. He’s so non-descript as to be almost entirely unmemorable. Average Eyes. Average Nose. Average Mouth. The usual. He could play a guy named Man On The Street #2 any day.

  “Let’s go,” he growls.

  “Oh fuck off,” I growl right back. “So I didn’t leave right away. Is this what happens now? Vicious just has people pull guns on me to get them to do what he wants? Jesus fucking Christ, this is some A-grade bullshit. I’m not fucking coming back at all now. You can fucking…”

  “THAT’S ENOUGH.” Coco’s voice booms out behind me. The feminine lilt has gone. It’s deep and it’s rough and there’s violence in it.

  There’s a gun in her hand. A big one. A fucking hand-cannon. Desert Eagle, by the look of it. Those things can hold .50 cal rounds. Big enough to put a hole in the side of a tank. Nobody is going to mess with me while she’s holding that.

  “Ow!” A sharp pinch in the side of my neck makes darkness roll in.

  I swing back around to the man, see the syringe in his hand. What the fuck did he just do? Who is he? Who sent him?

  “Coco! Help!” I’m already slurring my words. It’s hard to breathe. It’s even harder to keep my eyes open. I know this feeling. I’ve been hit with a hell of a sedative. There’s no way to fight it. I’m going down.

  8

  Vicious

  I shouldn’t have let Kitty leave when we were both angry. I should have locked her in the bedroom and taken it out on her until we both felt better. Instead, I did something else. Something much worse.

  I need Slick. He’s stopped answering his phone, but he’s still on the clock as far as I’m concerned. I’m going to have to physically go and get him from whatever distraction is keeping him from responding. I’m fairly certain I know who I have to thank for that. Blaze. That little pain in the ass brat of a girl. He better be putting her through her paces, teaching her a damn good lesson. He’s got it in him, but he doesn’t give in to those impulses nearly as often as he should in my opinion.

  I make the short journey to his place and throw the door open without bothering to knock. It’s what he does, after all.

  The sight that greets me stops me in my tracks. Blaze is on the floor, pouting as only that girl can. She’s fully dressed, but her hands are tied be
hind her back and her pink little tongue is licking her lips, where traces of some pale fluid are spread. For a second, I think I’ve walked in on the aftermath of a blow job, but a glance down reveals a bowl of ice cream sitting on the floor in front of her.

  Slick is standing several feet away, fully clothed, his arms folded over his chest.

  “Hey,” he says. “I got myself a little kitty too.”

  “Asshole,” Blaze complains.

  I don’t have time for this. It’s all very fucked up and cute, but we have business to attend to.

  “Let’s go,” I tell Slick. “Kitty is missing.”

  “Kitty’s missing?” It’s Blaze who pipes up shrilly. I ignore her.

  “Let’s go. Now.”

  “Gotcha,” Slick agrees. “Let me get my piece.”

  “What the fuck! Let me out of here!” Blaze stars shrieking at me. “If Kitty is missing, I can help get her back.”

  “I don’t think so,” I sigh. Every second I stand here waiting is another second bad things are no doubt happening to Kitty. But Slick isn’t back yet and Blaze has a way of asking questions that get answers.

  “You think she left you? I bet she left you,” Blaze conjectures a little too smugly for my liking. “After you pulled that gun on me like a straight up psycho, she knew what you were, didn’t she. And she didn’t want nothing to do with you anymore.”

  Her grammar is atrocious when she’s upset.

  “She didn’t leave me.”

  “You think she was taken?”

  “Yes.”

  “So let me out of this you fucking asshole. I know how to find her better than either of you do. And tell your boy he’s a sick fucking motherfucker for doing this. Treating me like a fucking animal! He gets off on it, I swear!”

  I crouch down in front of Blaze. “Darling,” I drawl. “If it were me, that collar would be tighter, that chain would be shorter, you’d be fully naked and there would be a tail plugging your little ass. This is nothing.”

  “You’re a sick fucker too,” she hisses. “This is unsafe. He’s put fucking locks on the chains so I can’t get them off the collar or the counter. What if there’s a fire?”