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I have never actually been in a place like this before. I mean, I've seen them in movies but never really thought I would find myself in one, more or less, in a back alley of the bad side of Boston. I don’t know where to look.
There's Booby Bety on my left and a Twerking Tina with her bare ass to my right. If I were to lean forward right now, I’d find Candy’s diamond-stickered tits in my face. I’m way out of my comfort zone here, and I’m sure by the disgusted look I can’t seem to wipe from my face, everyone can tell.
All the men sitting by the podium are throwing dollar bills at the stripper on stage. Who, I must admit, has some pretty impressive skills on that pole. I just have no idea why Tony thinks photographs are necessary because this night will surely be burned into his nephew's memory for eternity. If not his, I know I won’t be forgetting this anytime soon.
I jump back, suddenly feeling a slap on my ass. As look behind me to find an unsavoury old man, winking at me. Creep! I glare at him as he goes to do it again and slap his hand away.
“I don’t work here,” I bark out firmly.
He laughs. “Everyone’s got a price, sweetheart.”
My lips curl in disgust as I watch his eyes slowly undress me from top to bottom, licking his lip.
“Fuck off, pervert.” I shove him out of my way, making ‘help me’ eyes at the bouncer across the room. He shrugs at me as if to say, ‘What do you expect in a place like this?’
My cheeks blush with heat. The awkwardness I feel far out ways my utter embarrassment at this stage. So, I busy myself taking pictures of Tony’s nephew, Nixon, as he receives a lap dance from a curvy redhead and then cringe as all the bachelor party guests drink shots of vodka from her belly button. Looking at my watch, I’m relieved to see my time is almost up, and I start to pack away my camera.
In the corner of my eye, I see someone that looks freakishly like my brother. I stand on my tippy toes, squinting my eyes, trying to focus as I watch him walk past the bar.
That can’t be Austin, though. He is not old enough to be in a place like this. Yet, the more I look at him, the more convinced I am that it’s him. I call out his name, but he doesn't hear me over all the music and bar noise. Hell, I barely hear myself.
He walks through a door that, even from where I’m standing, the sign on it clearly reads Staff Only. I’m at a standstill, confused, and also a whole lot curious. I walk over to the closed door, standing back far enough that the security guard standing next to it doesn’t get suspicious.
A million thoughts run through my mind, washed with so many different emotions I can’t dissect them all. Was that Austin? It couldn’t be. Even though he was wearing the same black sweatshirt that Austin always wears and has the same stature. I convince myself I’m being ridiculous and head back to retrieve my camera so I can exit this dive.
My mind won’t leave it alone though. If it is Austin, what the hell is he doing here? Is this where he got all that money from and has been spending all his time? Since our fight last week, I have barely seen him. He gets home late most nights. That’s if he comes home at all. Some days the only way I know that he has been home is because he has left his laundry for me to do.
My stomach starts to churn. I’m in complete turmoil with myself. The protective sister in me wants to chase after him and drag his stupid ass out the door by his ear. Yet, the rationality in me is all too aware of the bodyguard standing near the door, and the fact that even if I did get past him, I am scared shitless of what I potentially could be involving myself in.
Then, as if the universe is trying to tell me something, a commotion starts with one
of the strippers and a patron near one of the podiums. So, the security guard by the door leaves his post to investigate. Without a second thought, my protective sister instincts kick in and I make a run for the door.
Women’s distant laughter fills the dimly lit hallway, there is a haze of stale cigarette smoke that permeates the air, and the walls vibrate from the bass of the music playing out in the club. I walk past a few closed doors, until I reach the end of the hall which leads out to the back of the alleyway. Shivers run through me, not from the cool night air but from what I see.
It is Austin. It fucking is him!
He is being held up against a dumpster by two men as another man belts his fists into him.
“Where is my fucking money?” the man yells deeply and demanding before laying another punch to his stomach.
I throw my hand over my mouth to keep my scream silent. My chest thumps a million beats a second as fear takes hold. I don’t know what to do. I’m small and weak; one woman against three men would be just plain suicide. But... I can’t just stand here and do nothing as my brother gets the living shit beat out of him. Removing my hand from my face, I take a deep shaky breath as I prepare myself to attack. This is probably the stupidest thing I could do, but at the same time, I can’t just stand here and watch. I can’t walk away. I have no choice.
Adrenaline rushes through every ounce of me as I go into fight mode. “No!” I scream out, but a hand muffles my scream, and another hand grabs hold of me from behind. I scream again, thrashing in his hold. But it’s a futile attempt. I know this must be a man, he’s too strong.
The commotion brings me to the attention of the men holding my brother. They’re dressed like security guards, tall, brute, rough-looking men. The man delivering the punches though, is slighter, dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt.
“You should really pick a more private place for this, don’t you think?” the man behind me asks to the others.
Blue Jeans spins around to look at me and the asshole holding me. “I didn’t realize we had an audience,” he replies nonchalantly.
“Well, you do, which is another problem.”
“Does this problem have a name?” Blue Jeans raise’s his eyebrows at me as he walks towards me. I try to reply, but it comes out a muffled moan through my captive’s hands that are cutting off my air supply. He releases his hand to let me speak, and I immediately take in a big gulp of air, letting it fill my lungs to re-energize me.
“Please, whatever it is he has done. I will fix it. Please, just stop,” I plea. But no sooner than my last word is out of my mouth Blue Jeans pulls out a gun from the back of his pants and points in my direction. My whole pathetic life flashes before me. I suddenly want my mom and dad, no matter how fucked up they are. I think at this point I’m so scared, I might even pee my pants. I look over to my brother whose face is already swollen and covered in blood. If the two men were not holding him up, I’m certain he’d collapse.
Blue Jeans spits out at me, “And, who the fuck are you to him?”
