“Alright, alright.” Laughing, he holds his hands up in defeat.
“Okay.” I need to take a quick shower, and then I’ll meet you out front.
“Kay,” he says, leaving me to clean up.
The shower feels amazing.Thinking for a hot second, I contemplate just relaxing, kicking back, spending the night watching Dramas on my MacBook and falling asleep. Knowing my bad luck with sleeping, I’d make it an hour or two before the night terrors rise again.
Pulling on a light backless top to show off my pretty back tattoos and some shorts, I pull on some cowboy boots. I’m not brave enough to wear sandals. There are just as many critters scurrying around here as there are in Shelby-Love, Alabama.
“Aye.” Amadou calls, waving friends off as he heads over to the stairs leading up to the tiny room I live in. Which is the reason I never asked him to come up. There’s no point in anyone who isn’t a lover coming up there. It only houses a bedroom half the size of the one I had at home, scratch that, a quarter of the size of that princess core comfy nest, and an even tinier bathroom they somehow managed to squeeze in an ancient claw-foot bathtub with a shower attachment, sink and toilet.
“Ready?” Slowly he walks around me, giving a low whistle. “You may cause a fight in there tonight.”
“Boy, hush.” Jumping back, he easily evades my halfhearted swat at him.
“Boy, huuuush,” laughing, he tries his best to mimic my southern accent.
“How’s your side?” I ask. “Don’t be doing too much. I know you are using me to help get girls. That art is still fresh, so don’t be sweating so much it gets infected.
“Pshaw.” Waving away my concern, he winks at me, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we head down to the city centerwhere several nightclubs are. “You know, I’m going to take good care of it.”
“Alright now.” Laughing, cause I sound like one of the old ladies back home.
“Bennie just got here.He wants you to come over.” Amadou says in my ear as I toss back a whiskey.
“Alright, when I finish my game.” Chalking my pool cue, I line up my shot.
“Fourteen in the corner pocket.” Sinking the shot. I work my way around the table, finishing out the game.
“Good job,” Aissata, my partner in crime tonight.
“Boys, drinks are on you, I believe.” Nodding to the two guys who were so certain they could beat us.
“Yeah, yeah.” Seydou and Oumar say in unison, gracious in their loss. The privilege of playing someone as beautiful and clever as Aissata, Amadou’s sister, is enough for them, it seems. She’s home on holiday from Sofia University in Japan, and that seems she is considered a bit of a celebrity in her hometown.
“What are you having?” Looking over his shoulder, Seydou asks, heading to the bar.
“Amadou knows my order. Be right back.” I tell them, scooting by the new players waiting to take our place.
“Hurry back. I’m ready to dance.” Aissata tells me. When we go out, we only dance together. Causes fewer problems for both of us.
“Kay.” I promise, heading over the velvet rope that’s supposed to separate the hardworking locals from the Euro-trash tourists and guys like Bennie, who think of themselves as the big bosses in this area. It would be laughable if it weren’t soridiculous. I don’t fool myself into thinking that men like Bennie can’t be dangerous — they can. No one would believe that one of the biggest cartel bosses lived in a small southern town in Alabama either.
“Keeping a low profile is the key to my brother’s success.” Lourdes would tell me. I couldn’t agree more. Angel, with the help of Snake, had cornered the market in construction and logistics with their trucking company. Snake was even more incognito. Angel was the face of the company. People didn’t know that Snake held as much stock in the company. No one knew who his mysterious silent partner, Hadrián Cabrera, was or where he lived. Only the top people in the MC knew his real name. To the world he was Snake, el Diablo’s primo, head enforcer. Silent billionaire, trafficker, viper is what he truly was — whose loyalty belonged to Angel and him alone.
That is the only way I can reconcile what he’s done to those kids. My stomach sours just thinking about it. I wanted a monster. I loved a monster. A monster was served to me with the cold realization of what dealing with a villain truly was — not only a risk to your safety but that of others as well. People who didn’t sign up for any of the mayhem visited upon them.
Just thinking of it spurs my feet over the VIP area.
The bodyguard takes a quick perusal of me, realizing quickly I couldn’t possibly be hiding anything in my little shorts and backless t-shirt.
“Mon cher.” Standing, Bennie barely tops my five-foot-one. He resembles a Bessemer pimp I saw once who wanted to do some business with the club. Everything went well until he offered to take me off Snake’s hands and wouldn’t take a polite no for an answer. Snake brought back his boots and sold them to someone in the club for the insult.
“Bennie, mon ami.” Allowing him to hug me, I return the sentiment if not with the same words. He’s a good time at theclub, but I don’t fool myself in allowing anything more. He seems like the type who would go from zero to a hundred in five seconds. Already had that, thank you very much, and on the run because of it.
“Come sit, mon belle.” Shooing one of his hangers-on away, he makes room for me.
“How’s everything with you, my friend?” I ask, accepting the drink the bartender sent over. Knowing better than to take drinks from men like Bennie. I have no desire to wake up with my coochie, bottom and throat all sore and probably carrying a burning STD to boot.
