by Liz Lorde
Chapter 2
“There’s no way in seven hells this is gonna work, Jess,” Sabrina insisted like she hadn’t just got done telling me that same thing a dozen, dozen times before. If hell existed, the devil would have a hard time convincing her where she was – even if the whole damn place was on fire and there were a chorus of pained screams in the distance.
“So make it work,” I expressed, “it’s not like I’m overflowing with options here, Winters,” she hated it when I called her by her last name. That is, she hated it in a playful way. It was too much fun to not poke at her so.
“I’m going to make you look like you just served a john and forgot to clean up, I swear it. You should know better than to mess with a girl holding an eyelash curler.” She waved the curler around my face menacingly.
“Fair enough,” I laughed, “better to have you as a friend than an enemy anyway.”
Sabrina smirked, “You’re as wise as I always thought you were. Look here now,” she grabbed my chin and adjusted me, the lights of the mirror were becoming particularly annoying, but I knew that I needed some help on this one. I took pride in doing my own makeup, but I had to look believable as some kind of biker chick. Or something like that.
“I’m looking,” I insisted, sounding a bit like a child.
“Heard from He Who Must Not Be Named?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“You know even if it wasn’t rape, as defined by a court of law, it’s still something you could be going to the police about.” I hadn’t told her the real story, and I skirted the details. Shame crawled through my skin, but I somehow felt that if she, or anyone, knew the full extent of it, that I’d never be the same.
“I don’t want to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I said, “I just want to forget. I just want to put it all behind me. What happens if I fan the flames?” I waited for her to reply, but she never did, “if I drag that asshole, who so unceremoniously boasted to me that he was getting a personal trainer, to court – I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Don’t you think—“
“No!” I practically snapped, and I could feel the white hot kiss of anger flowing through me, playing me like it’s mortal instrument. Sucking in a breath of air, I apologized to Sabrina, who, by the grace of her own good heart, did not chastise me.
She should yell at you for that. You can’t treat her like shit just because of what happened – no, I…I don’t want to think about it. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, sniffling now.
“It’s okay honey,” she pushed out a long breath through her nose, “I’m sorry too. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re going to go through with this,” Sabrina shook her head, “you know it’s crazy, right?” She was always protective of me, even when we were just kids in grade school. She was the big bad wolf, and I was the little lamb. For a time, anyways. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, smarter than I could ever hope to be at least. She has a full head of gorgeous black hair that cascades almost to her butt. My favorite thing about her, since the day that I met her, was probably her kind eyes.
“I know,” I admitted, “but I have to do it. You know that.”
Sabrina didn’t say anything. Instead she opted to silently agree.
“So what’s going on with you?” I asked, “I haven’t heard from you in weeks. That’s unlike you,” I said in a matter of fact tone. We were always keeping up with one another. She was a constant in my life, and I was a constant in hers. If I was her earth, she was my moon.
“I try to keep you away from guys that I like,” she joked, “lest they get the hots for you instead of me. Mama’s gotta get hers, you know?” Her lips formed into a sly grin.
A giggle moved through me. Most at the office would be shocked to see me acting so carefree, but Sabrina brought out the best in me. I let my walls down around her, the walls that I spent so much of my life building brick by brick. The serious demeanor, the jests and the focusing on work. I couldn’t even comprehend who I was anymore, after what happened with Jerry.
How could you be so stupid?
“I don’t know,” Sabrina said lazily, putting down the curler and picking up a hair brush. She brought it to the crown of my head and started crafting my hair to perfection. “Jeremiah’s…well…”
“He’s hot, you can say it. You like hot.” I’d be a hypocrite if I said otherwise.
“And you don’t?” She gave me the stink eye, “please. I remember years ago when we were at the club, you had some nobody on your shoulder - I felt bad for the kid,” she laughed and I could feel the happiness bubbling beneath me then, “god. He was like a lost puppy when he saw you drooling at the sight of that hottie. That dragon tattoo you thought was to die for.” She took in a breath, “I mean, yeah, that dude was hot – but really? A dragon tattoo? You know that dude’s got problems.”
“Okay okay, I admit it,” I put my hands up, “I have my weaknesses. But nobody’s perfect.”
Sabrina furrowed her brows then, implying that she was somehow different and possibly even above the rest of ‘us’ mere mortals. She was some of the best people that I’d ever known though, so I only shrugged instead of arguing.
“Well, anyway, you’re just about done here. If I could wrap Jeremiah around my finger, I’d have done it by now. But you know, I feel too guilty, I mean she’s a skank and all, but I know it’s wrong to pine after a guy in a relationship.” Sabrina was crushing pretty hard on Jeremiah Gold, basically a prince of the city. Couldn’t say that I blame her, really.
“Yeah but you’re a better match for him, Sabrina, and you know that. He’s not married or anything, I think you should lay it on thick and let the best woman win. I’m not saying have him cheat, but at least put yourself out there.”
“Maybe,” she didn’t sound so confident. She grabbed a bottle of Vi D’Lune hairspray and gave my hair a squirt, mussing up the strands, making a fashionable mess of me. “How’s that?”
I turned my head from side to side, appraising myself. I looked good, she had a way of things, I’ll give her that much. “I think that you’re a demon and your colleagues must live in fear of your wicked magics.”
Sabrina smiled, “And live in fear they shall,” she whispered darkly in my ear, leaning in close. “I think you look good,” she added, verbally patting herself on the back.
“Do I look trashy enough?”
Sabrina wrinkled her nose, “I don’t know,” she admitted, “was that what we were going for?”
“Trashy, but sexy. Isn’t that what biker girls look like?”
She shrugged her shoulders, “guess you’ll find out for the both of us,” Sabrina grinned, “snap a couple of pictures for me? The shirtless, the better.”
I raised my brow at her at that, turning to better face her, “For what nefarious devices?”
Sabrina moved back and straightened herself, “You’ve got your things,” she waved a hand nonchalantly, “I’ve got mine. Do you, Jess, and I’ll do me.”
I let out a long breath through my nose, she was always so secretive. I think she enjoyed things better that way, making something important out of nothing. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Sabrina nodded her head, “Well let’s get going then. Remember the safeword?”
I pulled myself out of the wooden chair that stood behind Sabrina’s vanity table, “Really?” I asked, “how am I going to forget Fabulous Flamingos? You better pray I text it, or you’re going to lose a best friend to death by embarrassment.”
Sabrina looked legitimately terrified, “Oh my god,” she put a hand to her mouth, “that can kill you?”
I stared at her mute and unimpressed with her sense of humor.
Chapter 3
When we finally reached club Vivid, my stomach was doing gymnastics.
I had a bad feeling about this.
This was unlike anything I’d ever done before, and if the men that Mr. Gates described were even half as brutal as he
described, they could seriously hurt me if I make a wrong move.
Sabrina brought the car to a stop in the parking lot. It wasn’t ludicrously full, but there were lots of bikes - no doubt some of them being from the Hell Reapers. Outside there were plenty of party-goers, night owls, sycophants and other various fiends. Most of them drunk or blitzed out of their minds. Smoke from cigarettes, cigars and what momma used to always refer to as ‘those left handed’ cigarettes, danced through the night air. Even from here you could hear the dull boom of club tunes; the outside crowd was anything except still, talking and cursing and howling, police sirens occasionally blaring off in the distance.
Focusing on the work, focusing on this moment; it was all I had left. The last fortification of Castle Ives. There was a melancholy then, that soaked itself into my bones, hiding away there were nobody could find it. Maybe Gates only picked me for this because he knew how desperate I’d be for it. Either way, I’m here now. Even if it wasn’t like me to back down, I can’t abandon her…she’s always been there for me.
Sabrina made an offhand comment about how different the place was, how the atmosphere wasn’t so much fun as it was foreboding. We’d been to party scenes before, but nothing like this. “You don’t have to do this, Jess,” she whispered with genuine concern.
A smirk graced the lines of my face, and I turned to face her. I could feel the excitement and the fear in my bones; my heart was practically beating in my ears. “Relax, Winters,” I said ruefully, “it’s just a club, you think I’m gonna let some rowdy boys or too-drunk for their panties college girls get the best of me?” I shook my head and raised my brow half an inch, “this is nothing.”
Sabrina said nothing, opting only to give me a grave glance, “Just contact me if something goes wrong. Please. And if I don’t hear from you by midnight, I’m going to come down here myself and kick so much ass I won’t be able to walk right for at least a week.”
Laughter escaped me and fingers of joy pressed against my chest, “Yeah, from you? I’d expect nothing less.”
“No doubt,” Sabrina smirked, “now get out of my car you high-end whore. I’ve got more lady-like things to do than dance with some greased up bike-jocks.”
I grabbed the door handle and left Sabrina’s SUV, giving her a middle finger, “Frack you, Winters, you made me high-end.”
She waved goodbye to me with that dumb, somehow comforting grin.
I’d looked through some of the preliminary work that Amanda had left me. One of the members she had managed to snap a couple pictures of, which, for that, my lady bits were eternally in Amanda’s debt. He looked eerily familiar, but I couldn’t place were from. Broad shoulders, a sly look on his gorgeous twenty something face – definitely on the older side and with some scruff. I was taken aback though, because the guy had tattoos and a hard look to him – but compared to the others he was, well, he looked more like an actor that was brought up in the lifestyle of an outlaw, than just an outlaw.
He had a full head of beautiful, lightly coffee colored hair, cut to a short fade on the sides of his head. With the crown of his head, he had lots of volume to his hair – thick natural strands that were parted to the side; and his swaggering bangs just came out slightly enough to frame his breathtaking face. It gave him a dangerous, but dashingly sensible look.
I worked my way through the parking lot, my heels clacking against the asphalt and a tightness gripping my stomach. I moved past a series of characters, all giving me looks like I was the holy grail of ass - as if they’d never seen a woman before. Catcalls came from behind me, and I gave the intoxicated men a sly, subtle look before moving towards the plush, red double-doors of club Vivid. The sign high above me glows a neon pink, pouring the light down onto the pavement below – bathing me in its light.
“Well well, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” the guy at the front said. He was tall. Stupidly tall. Muscular and covered in tattoos, his hair spiked up and black with frosted tips. He wore lots of leather, maybe he’s with the Hell Reapers?
I smiled, “Nice hair,” I complimented the man genuinely.
He nodded in appreciation, bringing the palm of his hand to the tips of his slicked up hair, “Guys gimme shit for treating it right,” he confessed with an amused look. When I tried to move past him, however, he brought out an arm to block my passing. “Whoa, whoa there now, pretty thing,” he said it like it was actually my name, much to my chagrin. “I’m gonna need to see your I.D before I let you in there,” he had the most intense brown eyes.
“Oh, right,” I said, fishing around through the small, functional slit in my yellow ochre dress for my ID. The dress itself was a high-low chiffon skirt, fashioned in the style of a shift; the outfit, though loose, wrapped itself snugly around me to accentuate my curvaceous figure. What nobody else could see, was that I happened to be acting – and consequently feeling – like a spy today; fitted snuggly around my right thigh was a Velcro holster which held my smartphone. I’d had to do my homework for this job.
Grabbing my ID, I handed it to the man.
His eyes scanned the card and glanced between me and the card. I could tell that he thought I didn’t notice, but I could see that his eyes were looking at my cleavage from time to time. They were probably my strongest physical asset, and made me hugely popular throughout high school; though there was a time I thought I’d always be known as the flat chested freak. “Jessica Ivesss,” the man said, my name rolling off his tongue, “what d’you do for a living, pretty thing.”
I’d prepared for this question, which I was sure I’d inevitably get. “I’m a singer,” I said without missing a beat, pushing my chest out a bit proudly. Sure it was a lie, but it was a beautiful one. I’d never had the voice for singing, but there was scarcely a night or a day that I wouldn’t go without singing something. So long as I was alone, at least.
“Singer eh?” He looked impressed, “take it’s not anything I’d listen to,” he tilted his head.
“Probably not,” I gave a small chuckle, “you look like the punk rocker type.”
The door man shrugged, “Don’t write me off so easily, pretty thing, I’m a country boy through and through.” Bullshit, dressed in leather and spikes and all man and muscle?
“I would have never guessed,” I put on my most polite face and tried once more to go inside the club; his hand brushed against my midsection, and our eyes locked. For a nightclub, it sure was hell getting inside. How’d Amanda put up with this shit?
“What’re you here for?” He asked, a genuine curiosity coloring his voice, though his eyes told the tale better than his mouth.
“Just here for a good time like anyone else, a girl can’t get laid?” I shot him a flirting glance, eyeing him from toe to head. He wasn’t my exact type, but he hit a few good marks. Tatts, muscles, height.
Come on Ives, stay focused here. You’re a professional. I could feel my internal self judging me then, I was anything but professional. I’m just a girl chasing paper for a better life.
The door man nodded his head and moved his arm away from the door, “Be careful in there,” he warned, “they’ll eat you up and spit you out. Animals,” he cursed beneath his breath.
“Thanks for your concern,” I replied, “but I’m used to bringing pups to heel.” The last thing I saw before I passed through the double doors was the man grinning from ear to ear. When I got inside, it was like I was entering a whole new world. Smoke fills the air and dozens upon dozens of party-goers pulse to the beat. I could feel the bass running through my bones; the crash of rhythmic cymbals and the thundering boom of kicks. There was a wicked sounding synth that held the beat and a melodious, almost angelic piano that played the lead.
Green lights, purple lights; shafts of gold lit up certain parts of the dance floor. Some of the dancers wore glowsticks on practically every part of their body. Padding my way around the outskirts of the dance floor, I kept my eyes peeled for anyone that might even remotely look associated with the Reapers. Most
of the people that I spotted were dressed up in nice shirts and party type skirts. Occasionally though, I could catch a glimpse of people moving through the crowd and hanging out in the darker parts of the club. They’d exchange a few words and cash would pass between their hands.
I wasn’t sure exactly what that was supposed to mean, were they purchasing drugs just then? I put that thought on the back burner and carefully moved my way through a throng of people, brushing uncomfortably close to some men.
That was when I felt it. Some pinching sensation on the back of my ass.
I whipped around and stared down the creep who was clearly proud with what he had done. “What the hell you fucking pervert,” I shoved him hard on his chest, causing him to stumble backwards roughly into the railings of the area outside the dance floor. I sprang into action after the man, getting up into his face and narrowing my eyes at him.
“Jesus lady,” the creep said, his friends slithering up beside him, “take it easy will ya?”
“I’m not your lady,” I huffed, “do that again and I’ll have you crying your mother’s name,” I pushed him a final time and glanced over at the creep’s posse. I could feel the anger rising through my bones, my heart hammering in my chest - I needed to get away from them before I did something I’d regret.
Departing from the situation, I found myself next to the bar, my hands still a little shaky from the experience. I pulled in a series of breaths and tried to calm myself down.
Don’t do it. Not here. I felt the stinging kiss behind my eyes. The urge to pour out my feelings was strong; the need to be tough was stronger. I bit down on the end of my tongue hard, flashes of Jerry with his hands all over me whirling through my head.
I fumbled my way to one of the black stools at the head of the bar. Thankfully the music wasn’t quite as loud here.
The bartender slinked over to my end of the table, giving me a look over. He was a short man, maybe 5‘4. He had a full head of short brown hair and a full, thick beard. Tattoos of all colors and shapes and sizes covered his arms and what I could see of his chest. His white sleeves were rolled back past his elbows, giving him a cool look. “You alright?” He asked in an icy tone.
