by Emilia Finn
“You’re fucking sick.” I shove him away with a laugh and shake my head. “I don’t even understand you, man. Not much grosses me out, but you’ve officially crossed the crazy line.”
“It’s this place.” Like a nervous tic, he scratches his arm as Abel’s eyes burn into our skulls. Together, we look up to the office window and find him watching over his empire with a gun in his hand and soldiers standing on either side of him.
His eyes bore into mine.
“Fuck me.”
Lifting his chin just once, Abel says everything he needs to without saying a damn thing at all.
It’s a summons.
An order.
A threat.
Sighing, Jay follows me toward the stairs. “I hate this place, Bish. It’s sending me crazy every single day.”
“I know.” I really, truly do. “Come on.” I tap his arm in the only show of companionship we ever truly give. This place has no room for friendships, no room for connections or loyalties. Abel demands it all. “Let’s go up. It’s time to work.”
“I don’t wanna. I can’t take anymore.”
“I know.” I go first, because that’s what brothers do, they lead the way, they forge ahead, they take the first line of attack. “Keep your mouth shut. Let’s coast tonight.”
“Yeah.”
Stepping between two two-hundred and fifty-pound giant ass motherfuckers when we reach the top, we pass through a short hallway and emerge into Abel’s large office. He stands in the same position he was when watching us through the glass, but now he turns to face us with a smug grin. “Gentlemen.”
I take a step to my left to push Jay back. “Abel. What’s on the schedule for tonight?”
He tilts his head to the side like I confuse him. “What’s on the schedule? Just like that? You’re not mad?”
My hands tingle with the urge to hold a weapon. “About what?”
“Your face is still busted up.” He closes one eye. “Can you see outta that thing? You lost last night, Bishop. I expected you’d be a little less… okay with it.”
He wishes I was not okay. He wishes I’d reach for a gun and get myself shot. “It was just a fight.” I take another step to the left when Jay moves forward. Abel sent him away last night for a reason. “Can’t win ‘em all, and Brochov was a giant. He deserved his win. You bet on the better fighter, Abel. All’s fair in my world.”
“Yeah?” With a lift of his chin, Abel releases one of the soldiers on his left and allows him to move to a mahogany side table. Where most men might have a decanter of whiskey, some fancy glasses, perhaps a few cigars, Abel has a meticulously clean mirror. “Alright, then. All is right in the world.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The schedule… We have a shipment coming in soon. New product coming up from South America.”
“Yeah?” I clench my fists when Jay’s breath comes heavier. He doesn’t want to be in here. He doesn’t need to know about shipments. “New partners?”
“Yes. No. Sort of.” Straightening his silk tie, Abel watches Jay over my shoulder. He’s discreet, I’ll give him that; he doesn’t telegraph his actions, but he knows what he’s doing – he knows what Jay’s been doing. “Vincent’s our guy, but he’s got a new junior partner coming in; some entrepreneur that wants a chance. So yes, new partner, but Vince vouches. If the kid fucks us over, Vincent will make payment for both of them.”
“He knows that?”
Abel laughs. “He will when the new guy fucks up. A bullet in the brain oughtta clue him in, don’t you think?” Closing one eye again, he mocks my swollen face without words. “The shipment’s coming in later this week. It’s already moving, so nothing to do there but wait. But for tonight, we test.”
I narrow my eyes. “Test?”
“Of course.” He takes a black leather wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a shiny credit card. Moving toward the table by the wall, he nods at his soldier, who takes out a four-pound baggie of snow-white powder and tips a healthy pile onto the mirror. Dismissing his man, Abel moves in and starts cutting it into neat lines. “Every business needs to test his wares. Jay’s been testing mine all year.”
My head swings around to find Jay watching the floor. He refuses to meet my eyes.
He refuses to look up and admit what he’s done.
“Once we deal with a guy, if everything goes well, if we trust him, then we continue business. But this is the first shipment of what they’re calling Peppermint. This is pure, uncut, straight from Colombia. Street value; one-twenty-five per gram. We make sure it’s quality, then we cut it up and send it to the streets.”
“How much are you diluting it?” Pure cocaine, to me, is far less horrifying than whatever Abel might think to cut it with. “How much are you selling it for?”
He shrugs. “Maybe twenty-five percent.”
“Dilution?”
“No.” When he finishes tidying the neat lines, his dark eyes meet mine. “Twenty five percent straight, the rest will be up to the mad scientists to make it feel legit. I’ve made a name for myself for quality product, Bishop. I can’t just cut it with washing detergent and expect not to lose business over it.”
Lose, not because of complaints, but because everyone dies.
“Come on over. Both of you.”
I step forward before Jay can. “I’ll test it. Jay’s got some weird stomach bug, been shitting all over the place. He won’t be able to test it without a blowout.”
Abel scrunches his nose. “You contagious, Jay?”
“Yes.” I push him back and jockey to stay in front. “He is. He’s seriously messed up tonight. Actually, I was gonna say, we should send him home. We don’t want an outbreak of ass bleeding shits to move through your club, right?”
Abel’s hand slides into his coat and comes out with a long-barreled pistol. He points it over my shoulder and glares. “You bringing contagions into my club, Jay? You were just downstairs with my clientele. Why you bringing shit into my club?”
“I’m not sick.” Pushing me aside, Jay steps around and works to disguise the way his hands shake. “Bish is teasing. I’m fine. I didn’t even shit yet today.”
Pulling back, Abel drops his chin to his chest. “Why the fuck are you two telling me your shitting habits? Are you contagious, Jay? Did you put my club at risk?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Abel brings the gun two feet to his left and aims for my face. “You make a habit of lying to me, Bishop?” Blonde hair flashes through my mind when he releases the slide. “I don’t tolerate liars, thieves, or fuckin’ traitors!”
“He wasn’t lying.” Jay steps between me and the gun. “He was playing. Just playing. He thought you’d laugh.”
“Does it look like I’m laughing?” He swings his long-barreled VP9 around dangerously and makes every man in his office twitch. “Do I look like the kinda guy who wants to be told a fuckin’ joke? No!” His eyes lock with mine. “You have any more jokes you wanna tell, Bishop?”
“No.” Jay steps forward and stops a foot in front of the gun. “We’re here to work. What do you need us to do? What’s on the schedule?”
Eyes narrowed, Abel’s chest heaves. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”
“He won’t do it again.”
“Don’t joke. I’m not a fuckin’ clown. I don’t laugh.”
Shaking his head, Jay’s hands come up in surrender – and distraction. “He won’t do it again. Tell us what to do, boss.”
He watches Jay for almost a full minute, and each second that passes lights my blood on fire. A swinging gun isn’t nearly as terrifying as suspicious eyes.
Finally nodding, Abel turns to Flynn. “Bring the girls in. We’re having a party tonight.”
“Party?” I step forward and stand shoulder to shoulder with one of two people on this planet that would step in front of a gun for me. I throw a glance out the window that looks over the club. “What girls? What are we celebrating?”
“We’re celebrati
ng the fact I didn’t put a bullet in your head, Bishop. Now shut the fuck up.”
Flynn opens the office door and allows a group of girls to walk through. My heart gallops when platinum blonde hair catches my eye, but when she steps in and lifts her eyes, the roaring in my head slows.
Wrong girl. Not Jess.
Green eyes instead of blue.
Giant boobs instead of the perfect handful Jess has.
“We have product to test tonight. So instead of working, you have my blessing to chill the fuck out.” Abel’s eyes meet mine. “You worked extra for me last night, so tonight, you get a little blow, a little girl, and you get to work it out of your system.”
A little girl.
He ain’t kidding.
I glance toward the lineup of women and mentally work out their ages.
They’re young. All of them, even the one with tits. Late teens, early twenties, six girls in total. Most of them smile. They’re eager to start the party.
But two stand on the end, sisters, and are fucking terrified. “I’ll take them.” My eyes come back to Abel. “In the room on the end.”
“Alright!” He claps with approval. “I shoulda known you’d pick two of them. You like ‘em young.” He looks to the older one. “What’s your name, girl?”
When she refuses to look up, refuses to speak, Abel’s nod conjures six guns that point at her head.
“Name. Now!”
She pulls her little sister against her side, clamps her trembling lips shut, and shakes her head.
Look up. Look up. Answer him!
When she says nothing, Flynn scoffs and steps forward.
“Lisa!” the younger one screams. “Her name’s Lisa!”
“Too slow.” My ears turn tinny when Flynn’s Luger booms and splits Lisa’s head open.
Dead weight, she drops to the floor and drags her sister with her. “No!” The younger girl pulls her sister against her chest. “No! Oh my God, no! Lis. Wake up!”
“Stand up,” Abel hisses. Even over the girl’s sobbing, the hissed message comes across clearly as every man in this room straightens their spines. Blood flows from the back of Lisa’s head and the girl’s hands shake to the same staccato as mine, but I can’t help.
I can’t step out of formation, or I’ll have a bullet in my brain and I’ll never see Jess again.
I’m choosing Jess.
Lisa’s already dead. She’ll never know a moment past tonight. Fortunately for her, she also won’t know the degradation and pain of being raped in this club.
“Girl!” Flynn’s gun hand slides to the right. “I said stand!”
Caught in her grief, sobbing against her sister’s bleeding face, she shakes her head and transfers some of the blood onto her cheek. “No, no, no, no. Please wake up, Lis. We didn’t mean it. We have to go home.”
“Flynn.”
“No.” Shit. Fuck! Jess’ eyes flash through my mind as I grab the crying girl and yank her up. She slams against my side, sobbing, weak legged, but so fucking strong willed, I’m sort of proud of her. “Tell him your name. Right now.”
“Nora.” She swipes a hand over her face, smudging her makeup as her chest struggles for breath. “My name is Nora.”
“How old are you, Nora?”
Her chin wobbles when our eyes meet. With six and a half feet of tattoos and a ticking jaw towering over her, not to mention her dead sister’s blood setting beneath our shoes, I’m surprised she can even speak.
“Sixt…” She hiccups. “I’m sixteen.”
Fuck me.
“Are you pure, Nora?” Abel snickers. “Will Kane take your virginity tonight?”
“Yes, sir.” She hugs her body tight and stares into my eyes. “Please don’t make me do this. We didn’t mean to come out tonight, we were just being crazy. It was just a silly dare.”
And just like Jess, this girl will learn the consequences of going out when she shouldn’t.
Laughing, Abel turns to the perfect lines of cocaine and takes out a hundred-dollar bill from his money clip. Rolling it, he looks over his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Bishop. I know you asked for two, but at least you get to keep the virgin. See what you get when you’re loyal? You get purity. Jay, you pick.”
Every man in this room steps around the dead girl like she’s invisible, and with barely a twitch of his jaw, of course Jay picks the blonde with tits.
It’s irrational that I get pissed at him for choosing the Jess lookalike, but she’s keen, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it without alerting Abel to my weakness.
When offered the rolled cash, Jay steps to the mirror. He was shaking just minutes ago – defeated, scared, itchy. But like a pro, he leans over, inhales the line, and turns to me with a grin.
“It’s good?” Abel’s grin matches Jay’s. “What do you think? Will we accept the new supplier?”
“It’s fuckin’ good.” He sniffs and brings a hand up to wipe below his nose. “I know why they call it Peppermint. It’s like a fuckin’ sugar high, but better.”
Accepting the rolled bill back, Abel takes a small baggie of coke and places it in Jay’s hand. “All yours, amigo. You work hard, so tonight, you get to party. This is what loyalty and hard work buy you.” He points to the dead girl. “Defiance gets you a bullet in the brain. Never forget who owns you motherfuckers.”
With her hand in Jay’s, the blonde steps closer to the mirror and eyes the next line. Silently raising a demure hand, she asks, “May I?”
Abel offers the cash, but stops halfway. “This is a hundred percent pure, uncut cocaine. If you keel over and die in my club, my men will fuck your corpse until you come back and apologize for dying in my club.”
Nora collapses into my side and howls. Abel’s only reaction is a twitch of his lips as if to say her whining is annoying him.
“I won’t.” Batting her lashes and pushing her tits out, the bottle blonde takes the rolled cash and leans over the mirror. “I promise I won’t die.” She runs the tube over the second line and squeaks when she reaches the end. Giggling, she throws her head back and drops the rolled note to the table. “Mmm. It’s good.”
Despite the fact she’s supposed to be Jay’s date, Abel runs a gentle hand over her jaw. “You like it?”
“Mmhmm.” She bites her lip and steps closer. “Your product has always been the best.”
“That pleases me to hear, young lady.” He takes her hand and tugs her into his chest. “Jay, pick another – I’m keeping this one. Bishop, you’re up.”
How much of a pussy would I be if I ask to opt out?
How many bullets will rattle inside my skull if I say no?
Lots. The answer to both is lots.
Holding the sixteen-year-old close, I step to the mirror and take the unfurled note. With one eye on Abel, another on Flynn, and somehow, another on Jay as he picks a new girl and drags her toward the door, I lean over the mirror and pray today isn’t the day it all goes to shit.
The girl beside me cries. She knows her fate; big ass fucker snorting a line of coke, her hand clasped in his. She knows what comes next, and she knows what happens when that guy comes down from his high.
Closing my eyes and thinking of Jess, I block one nostril with my finger and pull the line in through the other.
Bolts of electricity race through my veins when the powder hits the wall of my nose. My heart races, and my hand reflexively tightens on the girl’s. She cries out at my strong grip, but I can’t let go. My central nervous system trips out as my synapses go on hyperdrive.
Standing tall and pulling the girl under my arm, I open my eyes and come almost nose to nose with Abel-fucking-Hayes.
“Good?”
It’s all about perspective, motherfucker.
I nod and simply reply with, “Yup.”
“You want some, girlie?” Abel’s hand slides along the teen’s collarbone and sends her skittering closer to me. “Want a line? It’ll help when you leave with him. Not only won’t you be sad t
o give it up, but you’ll enjoy the fuck out of it.”
“No. Don’t give her any.” I pull her in until my arm almost chokes off her air. My nose itches. My top lip tingles. “She’s too fresh. Too small. She’ll die in your club. I wanna fuck her first.”
Laughing, he taps my chest and steps back. He pulls out the money clip a second time and takes a fresh bill for his own line. “You make it sound like you’re looking out for her. I know you, Bishop. I know the real you deep down inside that black heart. You like it when they cry. You want her to feel the pain.” He leans over his line, but pauses and waves toward the door. “Go. You’ve bought a night of freedom. A girl only loses her virginity once, so make sure she feels it for the rest of her life.”
“Let’s go.” Holding his bag of dope, Jay waves us toward the exit. “We got a party to attend. Me, you, and two tight cunts. Move your ass.”
“Oh, hey, Bishop.” Abel tosses a party bag against my chest. “You earned this. Enjoy.”
Cocaine slams around inside my brain and pumps me the fuck up. I push the bag into my pocket and wink. “Thanks, amigo. I was pissed at you yesterday. My face still fuckin’ hurts.”
Laughing, he claps me on the shoulder and steps aside when one of the other women step up for their line. “I know, brother. But a girl and another hit will help you forget your face, I promise. Now leave. I wanna fuck a blonde.”
“Mmm. Me too.” I squeeze my virgin’s neck and lead her toward the exit.
We brush past all the fuckers with guns, but I’m not scared. My muscles grow with each passing second, my blood runs hotter, my heart races faster.
Moving onto the iron staircase and processing each individual clip of our boots on the steps, I forget about the dead girl as our party of four descend back into the main area of the club.
We’ve done this before. We’ve partied before.
And like we’ve done this a thousand times, we lead the ladies straight to the room we’ve used every other time Abel has tested us.
“Stop crying, Blondie.” I shake the crying girl and think of sinking deep inside Jess. My heart sings for her. My blood pumps only for her. “Stop fuckin’ crying.” I shake the girl under my arm when she howls. “The more you cry around here, the more people hurt you. You’re ruining my fuckin’ buzz.”