No matter how uncomfortable I feel I can’t give up. I’m on a mission.
I lift my chin and continue through the crowd, doing my best not to touch anyone by accident.
“Where in the hell do you think you’re going?”
There are so many people in the club that I didn’t even realize the fact that I was being surrounded by a throng of women.
My eyes bounce between all of them looking for at least one of them who has a pleasant expression on their face. All of them stare at me like I’m the shit on the bottom of their platform heel.
“Um… I’m sorry, I’m not here for a dance or anything. I just need to speak with the owner.” I offer up trying to put their minds at ease.
“Sorry bitch, no one sees the boss. He’s too busy for little stray pups walking in off the street.”
I recoil at the clearly hostile tone of this woman’s voice.
“Who knows Zena, we do need someone to clean the shit out of our toilets.” One of the women standing next to leader of them comments and everyone joins in for a laugh at my expense. This Zena woman is the only one who doesn’t bother to at least crack a smile.
“No, she needs to go. Put her out on street where she belongs. Let her walk the stroll.” Zena flips her hand and all at once the women around her close in on me.
Seconds later, I’m being grabbed and pulled back toward the door. They are going to get me kicked out before I even have a chance to make my case.
“Get off of me!” I shout and try to pull my arms away. Anger bubbles up inside of me. I’m so fucking tired of people pushing me around. Tired of being dismissed like I’m nothing.
I yank one of my arms away from the woman holding me and as hard as I can I punch her right in her face. She gasps and stumbles backward. Her hands flying to her face before she starts screaming like a banshee.
Blood slips through her closed fingers.
The corner of my lips quirk up. I’d never consider myself a violent person but something about making one of these bullies leak like a faucet makes me a little giddy on the inside.
“You’re going to fucking regret that!” Zena growled at me a second before she lunged, her fake bright red claws out and ready to do some serious damage.
I brace and put my hands up the best I can to protect my face. This isn’t how I expected my night to go.
“What in the hell is going on here?” A deep voice barks from the corner a second before Zena makes contact with me.
“Kill…” Zena stutters and takes a step back. Her face instantly transforms into a sweet expression. If I didn’t know any better I’d think she was some sort of shapeshifter. How the hell can she go from maniac mad to sweet as pie in the blink of an eye? “Everything is okay. We just are trying to get rid of this straggler. She’s not a member.” Zena doesn’t even look in my direction but there’s no mistake that she’s talking about me.
“I’m not a straggler.” I speak up for myself, not bothering to take my eyes off Zena. I don’t want her to catch me off guard.
“Well if you’re not a straggler, then maybe you’re a spy.” The man walks up from behind me. His scent is the first thing that hits me. The cinnamon of strong alcohol, the earthy smell of weed, and something fresh like clean linen or watered down mouthwash. It’s a strange combination of smells but for some reason it forces me to lean in closer. My eyes drop down to the ground as I watch him take an uneven step in the small circumference around me.
Perfectly polished black dress shoes come into my field of vision and I let my eyes slowly trail upward. Dark blue pressedslacks. There’s no hard crease but the fabric looks as if it repels wrinkles, as if the cloth was made to fit him. A black belt is wrapped around his waist but I’m sure it’s just to round out the look. The dark blue suit jacket is just as impressive, fresh and crisp. A black and white printed dress shirt covers his chest and abdomen. It’s flashy. Definitely not what I’d have chosen but it does compliment the outfit. My eyes linger on his front for a moment, as well fitted as the shirt is, it does nothing to hide the muscles straining against the thin fabric.
Finally my eyes make it up to his face. His eyes are low and there’s a silly smirk on his face.
At first I thought his uneven step was due to the fact he wasn’t sure what he was walking up on but now I know the truth, he was uneven because he is intoxicated.
God, why are all these bastards the same.
Here I was ready to meet some extra serious, take no shit, never smiling asshole mob boss. This man clearly isn’t that.
“I’m not a spy.” I settle my eyes on his.
“You don’t get to talk to him. Kill doesn’t have time to waste on trash like you.” Zena leans in close and snarls in my ear.
“It’s okay, Zena. I’ll talk to this pretty little thing.”
Zena pouts and I roll my eyes in annoyance. How can anyone think that is attractive?
