CHAPTER1
Leonora
There are somany ways to die. And like everything else in life, each one is subjective.
Take, for instance…drowning. I’d heard once that it’s a peaceful way to go, beautiful even, but for me, it would be hellish. I’m a fan of water, but with me watching it while I hold a cold drink in my hand. Not while it floods my lungs.
Or take, for instance, what was going on in the club I worked at in Vegas called Dynamic. A guy wielding a gun in one hand and a machete in the other came in demanding his money back. Money he’d spent the night before watching the show.
Was it strange?
Yeah.
Was it unexpected?
Nah.
But I could probably think of better and more peaceful ways to die. Like Jack had told Rose inTitanic…in her warm bed when she had lived her life.
What a way to go, right?
I wasn’t sure why water imagery kept coming to me. Maybe because the girls were all arguing about Jack and the wooden raft earlier.
Could Rose have scooted over some?
In my humble opinion, all guys deserved to take the freezing dip, so…
Splash, mofos. Hope you all can swim.
All the peaceful imagery wasn’t going to help me, though. I was probably going to end up in two parts, my head rolling away from my body, picking up MRSA (methicillin-resistantStaphylococcus aureus—Francine, one of the girls, was studying to be a nurse and gave us all lectures on medical stuff) on these filthy floors for good measure.
The madman pointed the gun at Roxy, who was fairly new and the youngest. I stood in front of her and kept my hands up. “Calm down. Give us a chance to get your money.”
One thing about Dynamic—we tried to take care of each other. We outnumbered Vinny, the owner, and his security guard, Sam, but they were still the powers that be. We had to group together to make a shield in this place, even if Vinny and Sam were halfway decent.
Thinking of Vinny and Sam…where the fuck were they?
The guy moved the gun and machete with me as I moved toward the register. Underneath the counter was a panic button, but it went straight to Vinny’s office instead of the police department. He was frigging cheap and didn’t want to pay the subscription fee. I hoped he was in his office.
I set my finger on the scan thing—the highest-tech thing we had at Dynamic—and waited for it to read my fingerprints so the register would open. At the same time, I hit the panic button underneath the counter. That, however, was old as fuck, with wires sticking out of it. An electrical jolt flashed through my body. It felt like my veins had just gotten fried and my hair was standing on end. There was no doubt that I visibly vibrated.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the madman shouted. “No tricks! Give me my money. Now!” He shoved the gun toward me, but my body refused to move.
“All right!” Roxy screamed. “She’s getting it. It takes a second for the register to open. It reads our fingerprints!” The register opened and Roxy reached in to grab his money. “How much?”
My senses were starting to return, and even though she was young, Roxy was keeping her shit together. I wouldn’t have asked him how much, though. I would have just moved aside and let him take it all.
“Twenty-nine fifty.” He quoted the exact amount for the cover charge. “I had five beers. Oh, and my gas to get to this crappy joint! It was much better back in the day when it was the Hen House. Just make it a hundred and we’ll call it even.”
Roxy went to grab a hundred when Vinny showed up.
“What the fuck? That’s my money!” He went to charge the madman.
The madman threw the gun but swung the machete.
I watched as Vinny’s little finger disconnected and rolled along the floor, his pinky ring glinting underneath the lights.
“I didn’t want to do it, man!” the madman shouted. The blade of the machete was streaked with Vinny’s blood. “I just wanted my money back! I deserved it. You’re running a realshitshow here.”
