Page 6 of Thirst

“What if they want to question you during the day, and they come here looking for you while the sun is up? You’ll be unavailable, and they’ll eventually want to know why. It’s about more than the cops. It’s about more than Von. It’s about being found out. Come on, Amari. You know I'm right.”

I shake my head, hating to admit that Shawn is—per usual—too smart for his own good. This isn’t like when I was first turned. Back then, I could kill someone and get away with it with ease. People didn't have an internet to search for people or put out alerts to millions of others to be on the lookout for someone. There weren't cameras on every building and door. A vampire’s life was so much easier then. The world has no clue how many people I killed, especially when I was a newborn. Damn, I miss the good ol’ days.

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth as I slowly retract my fangs. “You're right, Shawn. Fine. I won't kill him here, but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna kill him. I'm sick of him, and I want him gone. So, I'm gonna heal him and send him on his merry little way, but I want you to follow him.”

“Huh? For what?” Shawn asks.

“Because you're gonna find out who he is, where he works, how popular he is—how many people will miss this prick if I kill him the way I want to. I want to know everything about him so that when I plan to kill him, I can do it right. One way or another, at some point in time, I'm gonna kill him. So make your peace with it, Shawn, and help me figure out how.”

Shawn lets out a sigh—not because he's sad about me killing Von, but because now he has to do work outside of the casino. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head as I bite my finger and thick blood oozes from the opening. I rub my blood on Von’s punctured neck and watch his skin stitch itself back together. After a minute, the annoying bastard wakes up with a jolt, his eyes wide with the memory of being attacked in his own car. When he looks at me, I put all of his actions to a stop with my Influence.

“Calm down, Von,” I tell him, and his body obliges. “You're safe and sound. In fact, you have nothing to worry about at all. No one is here with you. Nothing happened to you after you left the casino floor just now. You're simply on your way home with no memory of anyone’s faces inside Black Coins. Your night was a blur, and you need to go home and get some rest. I'm sure you have work in the morning, and even if you don’t, show up anyway. You're gonna have a nice night, and a nice day tomorrow. All is well, and you’ll know it the second you hear the slam of your car door.”

With Von stuck in a trance, I signal for Shawn to follow me out of the car. We step outside, I let Shawn get a few paces ahead of me, then I close Von’s door and walk away. Before we reach the sidewalk, we hear his engine start.

“Make sure you're unseen,” I tell Shawn as he splits off from me, heading to his car.

“Of course,” he replies over his shoulder.

I let him go, happy that I have him in my corner to keep me from going too far, as I am bound to try to do every now and then. But the smile on my face as I reenter the casino isn't because of Shawn and his loyalty. It’s because I know I will soon drink from Von’s veins again, and next time I won't stop.

AALIYAH

Five

Every day, it’s the same shit. Same old job, same old customers who barely tip, same stress about money, and the same boss who can never seem to find me sitting at the vanity I'm always at. The sun rises and sets, and it’s all just the same.

With my head down and my eyes rolling, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for whatever is about to happen. I hear my name being screamed as if I'm not in the exact same place I'm always in, but the foolishness here never seems to stop.

I raise my hand and turn my head. “I'm right here, Von. In front of my locker, like always.”

Davon Hamilton, owner and operator of the Fantasies on Fourth strip club, finally manages to find me in the crowd and give me his signature stare down. His massive frame stands out in the room full of half-naked women. Not only is he the only man back here, he’s six-foot tall and looks like he weighs a ton. His frame is gargantuan—an equal combination of muscle and fat. He has a round belly but massive shoulders, a fat back but muscular arms. His beard is thick and well-manicured, just like his cornrows, and he has beautiful light brown eyes that are pretty … and deceiving. His brown skin is moisturized and beaded with sweat, like he has been frantically searching the club to find me—looking everywhere except where I always am.

“I ain’t thinkin’ about your locker,” he replies. “You're supposed to be on the floor. You're on the clock, ain't you?”

I nod as all eyes in the room turn to me.

Von scoffs. “Alright then. Stop bullshittin’ in here and get on the floor. One of the regulars is askin’ for you.”

“Ugh,” I whisper to myself. “Who is it?”

Von scoffs again and shakes his large head. “First of all, it shouldn't matter who it is, because you're gonna go out there and do it anyway. Secondly, it’s Stanley Moore. He's in booth three. Hurry up. Time is money.”

Von snaps his fingers twice before he turns on his heels and walks out, but all the ladies in the room keep staring at me. The silence that follows his exit quickly fills with giggles and whispers. Everybody here knows Von and I don't really get along. Then again, Von doesn't really get along with anybody but Shay, and Shay doesn't like me either, so I guess that makes sense. But the laughter in the room mostly comes from the fact that Stanley Moore is back, and he's asking for me. Nobody here wants to dance for Stanley, and it looks like no one else will have to because this is the third weekend in a row that he has come in and asked for me. The last thing anybody wants to be is Stanley’s go-to girl, and it looks like he has slapped that label onto me like a nametag for everyone to see.

“Hurry the hell up, Aaliyah!” Von screams from some unknown location.

I let out another long breath, then quickly check the mirror. My face is done right, my brown skin is glowing, and my curls are still holding. This red lingerie set has my tits sitting high and my ass on full display, and while I'm used to being a spectacle on purpose at this point, I wish I didn't have to be. But, bills have to be paid and rent never stops, so I nod at my reflection for keeping it together, then step on six-inch red heels toward the door.

Fantasies on Fourth is loud, per usual. But it’s not the sound booming from the speakers or the frantic shouting of men in main seating that makes the club what it is. The size of the place is what makes it special. The main stage is exactly that, sitting on the first floor with a long runway that comes to a stop in the middle of the room, with a pole that reaches up from the stage floor to the bottom of the balcony above it. Main seating surrounds the stage on all sides, so customers can follow the entertainment from the runway all the way to the pole. Nothing is hidden in Von’s club, and anything that tries to be is caught by cameras in all four corners of both upstairs and down.

The bar takes up the entire back wall, decorated with white lights to help brighten up the dimly lit room, while VIP booths are scattered throughout the space, filling in gaps behind main seating. There are eight booths with square tables in the center and plush red seats on the perimeter, so that the ladies’ knees don't hurt while giving lap dances to the people willing to pay a little extra for some personal attention. But when it comes to personal attention, there is nothing more personal than what happens on the second floor of Fantasies on Fourth.

Upstairs is where Davon makes most of his money. That section is known as the Viper Rooms. It’s where Von’s background as a pimp comes into play the most. Up there, the Viper Girls make the world go ‘round—the girls who are willing to do something strange for a piece of change—and those customers have the heaviest pockets. It’s debauchery up there, and while we all know the girls who work the second floor go through the most mess, we also know they're the highest paid. The temptation to become a Viper Girl pokes and prods all of us, but you have to have a stomach to deal with all of that.

As I walk through the main floor, I don't have time to think about upstairs. Customers eyeball me as I saunter through the packed club. I eyeball them, too, because that’s the job, but I don't want anybody here. My last relationship ended half a year ago, and I haven't had interest in trying to date anyone since, but I’ll let the men with fistfuls of cash think I want them. The more interested they believe I am, the more they're willing to spend. Philadelphia isn't a cheap place to live, and with the economy more and more jacked up, and prices shooting through the roof, a girl needs her money.

“Damn, Aaliyah, you're looking good today. Where you goin’?” one of the regulars asks, damn near falling out of his seat to look at me.