by Dark Angel
I go as fast as I can down the fire escape, the metallic stairs creaking and groaning as I run down.
The moment my heels hit the concrete, I look over my shoulder as two men holding revolvers look down the fire escape. They’re not wearing any uniforms, but they sure as hell seem hell bent on getting their hands on me.
Gritting my teeth, I start to run as fast as I can, my heels clicking on the floor like the maddening tick of a clock, time is running out, Destiny, that repeating sound seems to say.
I turn a corner and then I keep running, pushing my body to the limit as my lungs seem to scream inside of my body. Stopping only to take my heels off, I dash down Broadway like a madwoman, and then turn another corner, step into an alley and crouch behind a car.
My heart seems to be climbing up my throat as heavy footsteps close in on me, but then the men keep on running down the street, still chasing me.
“Jesus Christ,” I sigh, putting my heels back on and standing up.
Yeah, I bet I looked pretty strange, huh?
Although, this is New York City. I bet no one even batted an eye to me running around dressed the way I am with my heels. Probably just another day in Gotham, huh, babe?
I look down the street, over the top of the parked car, and a feeling of sadness and despair takes over me. Regular uniformed cops are stretching yellow lines around the Dirty Destiny’s entrance, and every single one of my customers is being hauled out in handcuffs. I recognize a few of my girls, the cops dragging them out in the street as if they were cattle, some of them wearing nothing but a thong and a bra.
Anger replaces the sadness inside of me, and I ball my hands into fists.
My club, everything I’ve worked so hard for, is fucking gone.
Taken away from me in an instant. And all because of that hideous man. That evil bastard.
But there’s something more sinister here.
Something worse.
Women are being treated like crap for liking sex.
It’s the age old fucking double standard.
I think about Austin, and worry washes over me; what if Lester caught him?
I can’t even begin to think about it. I’m still not sure why Lester is so preoccupied with Python, but if he went this far, leveraging all his power to bring me down… God, please, let Austin escape.
So that whatever he’s doing can continue.
That’s right, babe.
I believe him.
He may not be telling me the whole story, but remember how I said I was a good judge of character?
I believe him.
I remember that dirty grin on Lester’s face, the look of satisfaction as he saw me standing over the balcony, and rage flares up inside of me once more. I don’t think I have ever been this angry before. I don’t care how long it takes, or how much it’s going to cost. Lester is not walking away from this scott fucking free.
Whatever it takes, I’m going to bring that motherfucker down.
“There you are, you nasty bitch,” I hear someone say right behind me. I turn on my heels and find the two men that were chasing after me. They must have creeped their way up the alley, and now they have pinned me between them and the car I was hiding behind. I look from one side to the other, but there’s no escape possible. I can’t run, and I can’t fight… and they know it.
Austin
Dirty Destiny looks like a fucking war zone right now. It should probably be called Battlefield. People are shouting and screaming, and the cops are rounding up everyone they can lay their hands on.
NYPD that’s storming up the place are wearing tactical uniforms, and I have to wonder what the hell happened for a raid like this to do down in here. I mean it’s a fucking strip club. They’re making it look like a haven for fucking ISIS.
Either way, none of this shit fucking matters; what matters is that I have to find Destiny.
I start running toward the stairs, but that’s when I hear someone screaming right behind me. “GET THE FUCK DOWN!” one of the policemen shouts, pointing his gauge shotgun right to my face.
I stare him down and, moving slowly, I start raising my arms up in the air. “DOWN! I SAID DOWN!” he continues shouting, but I just take one cold-blooded step toward him. He points his shotgun up at the air and fires toward the ceiling, but I don’t even flinch.
Fuck this motherfucker.
I know, cool it.
Don’t look at me like that, okay? I know I shouldn’t be taking on the police.
But today I can’t risk any fucking delays either.
I take a few deep breaths and back the fuck down.
But if I get dragged down to a police station, Strokes is going to have a hard time handling the transfer of the new girls to Python all by herself. Not to mention that the police might decide to investigate Python after finding me here.
Yeah, fuck it, I’m not taking a chance.
I take a deep breath, ready to go for the shotgun in the cop’s hands, but that’s when the lights go off. The whole place goes fucking dark, and all the doors that lead out swing open.
I use the momentary confusion to blend with the scared crowd once more, slipping out of a sight before the cop has a chance to unload his shotgun on me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone I’d rather not see: Lester fucking Vicks. That motherfucker is running this show. I should’ve realized this right from the start.
Somehow, I have a feeling that he’s doing this to Destiny because of me.
But how? And why?
The answers will have to come out later; right now, I need to find Destiny and make sure that she’s safe. But first, I fish my cell phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text message to Strokes. Police raid at DD, I type and then hit send. She’ll know what to do in case Lester decides to pull the same stunt at Python.
The moment I see an opening, I run up the stairs that lead to Destiny’s office. Police are handcuffing everyone in sight, so I’m taking a huge risk just by being here… But fuck, I need to know if she’s safe.
I step inside her office, but the place is completely empty. I call her name just in case she’s hiding, but my only reply is silence.
Fuck, what do I do now?
Don’t worry, I’m not asking you.
No matter what the situation, I’m still fucking cool as a fucking cuke. I’ve been to this rodeo before. Not completely worried just yet.
I step out of the office and, noticing a door open on the side, I start piecing things together. I enter, head down a hallway and find myself at the top of a fire escape; on the way here every single door was open, so Destiny must have come through here with the police on her heels.
Running down the fire escape, I call my driver and tell him to pick me up on the back.
You know, you gotta appreciate his fucking response when I tell him to meet me outside the club.
“Already here, boss, turned the car around the moment I saw the police,” he tells me and it totally fucking justifies my hiring policy—only the best, only the most trustworthy.
When my shoes hit the concrete, the headlights of my limo flash once. The driver is just turning the corner, the large limo struggling to get through the tight alley.
Whatever you do, I do not want to hear the joke that’s going through your head if it’s going through your head of my limo being too big for Destiny’s fucking alley, okay?
I know I’m not that worried, but it’s still pretty serious. I gotta find that woman.
“I’ll take it from here,” I say as I open the driver’s door. “Go around the corner and get to Python and make sure everything is under control there.” He doesn’t even reply; he just gets out of the driver’s seat, picks up his cell phone, and starts heading over as I sit myself behind the wheel.
I shut the door and take the gear out from neutral, my foot pressing down on the clutch. Destiny must be close and, if I act quick, I might find her before Lester’s men do.
I can’t believe that I’m a
bout to do this, but fuck it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I have no time to waste right now. I step my foot down on the accelerator and, as the engine starts to roar, I let go of the clutch.
The limo races down the alley and, by some miracle, I manage not to hit any of the mirrors against the wall. Swerving as the alley comes to an end, I press down on the brake and turn the wheel as if I’m driving not a limo but the fucking Titanic; this thing is too huge to maneuver at the speed I’m going, but it’ll have to do.
I honk as the limo jumps out onto Broadway, and people start jumping out of the way as the big black limo finally gets into the right lane.
Lucky for me, most passer-bys are more worried about what’s going on at Dirty Destiny than they are about the madman behind the limo’s steering wheel. No wonder, there are so many cops around Destiny’s club that you’d think she’s the fucking head of the Islamic State that they’re chasing after.
I can see the whole confusion around Destiny’s club from where I am, but that’s not what I’m interested in right now. As I drive down Broadway, I slow down and narrow my eyes as I try to spot Destiny or the cops chasing after her.
Then I see it, two men holding guns running down the sidewalk. They’re making a fucking show, pushing people around brandishing their weapons. They’re acting like the rest of the police, except they are not wearing any uniforms… and they don’t look like cops at all.
Fuck, if Lester brought guys like these for a raid, he sure means business.
I start driving after them, trying to keep my distance, but then they stop. They talk to one another, look around, and I start feeling relieved as I realize that they’ve probably lost Destiny.
But then the fuckers start pointing and then head down an alley. I can’t follow them there with this limo… I could just follow on foot, but I risk losing them.
Well, fuck it; I press my foot down to the metal and grit my teeth as the limo jumps over the sidewalk. The men are already reaching the end of the alley, and they’re so deep in their hunt that they barely notice the roaring limo behind them.
That’s when I see it: Destiny was hiding under a car at the end of the alley, and they have caught up with her. One of them is grabbing her by the arms and pushing her against the wall, and the other one is waving his revolver at her.
These motherfuckers are going to regret the day they’ve stepped foot inside their club, that much I can promise you.
The limo roars down the alley, but then they turn toward me, it’s already too late. I hit the brakes right before I hit them; if it weren’t for Destiny I might just have run over these bastards, and then step out of the limo.
They squint their eyes, trying to see who’s facing them down, but they can’t see me because of the headlights right in their eyes.
Before they can make a move, I jump over the hood of the limo and send my fist crashing against the face of the first man. He falls down on the ground, grabbing his broken nose, and the other man turns around to face me.
He raises his gun at me, but I grab his wrist and twist his arm around, only stopping when I hear the nauseating sound of his bones breaking.
“Fucking wish you’re dead after this, motherfucker,” I yell through clenched teeth, kicking the man closest to me in his ribs.
I hear fucking bone crunch.
I don’t fucking care.
The first guy tries to rise up, but seeing the look in my face he wavers.
I don’t fucking take a chance. I run the three steps over to him and kick him.
Hard.
My foot hits his face.
He crumples.
I’m breathing hard. Fucking seeing red.
I kick both their guns as far away from them as I can, and then finally turn to Destiny.
“You okay?” I ask her, and she closes the distance between us and presses her mouth against my own.
“I am now,” she whispers at me. “Let’s get out of here.” Holding her with one arm over her shoulders, I take her to the passenger’s seat in the limo and then take my seat behind the steering wheel. The men—definitely not cops—are crawling toward their guns, but the moment they hear the roar of the limo’s engine they roll to the side to let us through.
Now more calmly, I take us through the late New York’s traffic and head right down to my apartment in the Financial District. I’ll be close enough to Python if anything happens and, besides, I need to get to the bottom of this right now.
I have a few questions, and I fucking bet that Destiny has the answers.
Destiny
For the first time in hours, I feel safe. Standing with Austin in his apartment, it feels that the real world can’t get to me here.
And even if it does, Austin would just kick its ass and send it on its way, just like he did in that alley. I don’t even want to think about what would've happened if he hadn’t showed up when he did.
I mean, Lester is out of control, and if he got ahold of me, knowing him as I do…I’m shuddering.
The commissioner has a mean streak to him, you know? He always had a knack for extortion, but I just took saw him as another dirty cop—dirty, but not evil.
But I was wrong.
Lester is looking more and more like a New York devil, and I’m starting to realize that extortion might be just be one of his pastimes.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I sit down on Austin’s couch and he hands me a glass of water. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my hands as I wrap my fingers around the glass.
“Hey, babe,” he says, sitting next to me, tucking a lock of hair over my ear. “No need to fucking thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
I put the glass to my lips and start drinking—the cold water calming my nerves. I try to push Lester’s evil grin to the back of my mind, and then I look up at Austin. There’s relief in his eyes, but there’s also concern. By the way he’s looking at me, I know that he has a few questions dancing on the tip of his tongue.
“Just get it out,” I tell him, sighing. I place the glass of water on the coffee table in front of me and fold my hands on my lap, feeling that the time to come clean has finally arrived. I just hope it’s not too late.
“You asked for it,” he chuckles lightly before he starts, licking his lips while he looks for the right words. “What was Lester doing at your club? What was that all about? Because that dude came to fight a war tonight, not close down a fucking strip club.” Pursing my lips, I look into Austin’s eyes and swallow down all hesitancy. Time to come clean.
Here I go.
“He was carrying out his threat,” I say drily, breathing in as I prepare myself to tell Austin the truth. All of it.
“What threat?” he asks me in that patient tone of his, his eyes narrowing slightly. I notice his fingers twitching, and I’d bet a full year’s income that he’d like to choke out Lester as much as I do.
“Lester, he… Austin, he was forcing me to spy on you,” I finally tell him, the words tumbling out of my lips and blowing up in the air of his apartment. “He wanted me to tell him about what was going on in Python.”
Austin has nothing on his face. He’s quiet.
“Shit,” he whispers, looking away from me and turning his gaze outward, to the New York skyline outlooking his wall-to-ceiling window panes. Even though it’s still night, the city keeps on glowing, its bright lights cutting through the darkness. “I should've known.”
“He threatened he’d close my club if I didn’t keep tabs on you,” I say. “And he wanted me to find someone… The woman you were talking to. Mistress Strokes, you called her, I think.”
“That fucking bastard,” he whispers again, balling his hands into fists, anger dripping out of his words. Oh, he wants to choke Lester, alright. “Destiny, why didn’t you trust me?”
He finally turns to me, his words making my heart feel smaller and smaller. Right now, I just wish I could vanish into the ether.
“I… I don’t know, Austin,” I start
, that sadness inside of me turning into desperation.
What if he tells me to get out of his apartment?
What if he tells me that he never wants to see me again?
It’s in this exact moment that I finally realize something: I’m in love with Austin Price.
That’s right. I’m in love with Python.
I felt it in the way my heart beat every time our gaze met, and I felt it every time I thought of him, that soothing warmness blanketing my mind and taking over my dreams. I’m in love with Austin, I think to myself, the words echoing inside my head.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, “I really am.” I can count on the fingers of one hand the times I said these three words, I’m sorry, but they never sounded so real as they do now. If only I could turn time back.
“Don’t,” he says, turning his body to me. Don’t say you’re sorry! You lied to me! I trusted you! My imagination starts putting words into his mouth, a deep-seated fear making my fingers shake. “Don’t say you’re sorry, Destiny,” he tells me, just like I imagined, and I feel my fears creeping into the real world. But then he continues to speak. “It’s not your fault. It’s all on him, that fucking prick.”
He gets up from the couch and I just look in silence as he walks toward the kitchen counter and grabs a bottle of aged whisky sitting there. He uncorks the bottle and fills two glasses with the amber liquid.
Throwing his head back, he drinks one of the glasses in one single gulp and then refills it. Only then does he come back to the couch, pushing one of the glasses into my hand.
“Lester has been trying to close down Python since the moment it opened its doors. I just never thought he’d go this far,” he says to me.
I’m quiet, letting him continue.
I mean, a part of me is wanting to hear this, you know?
Whatever secret Austin has, whatever drama he’s got with NYPD, it just fucked up my club.
