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Aheavy bass thrums through my veins, as the crowds of people around me move to the beat. Swaying to a song I don’t recognize, losing themselves to the moment to the feeling of being alive. I’d come to The Blue Caterpillar tonight with Lola, but she’d quickly vanished into a dark corner somewhere, no doubt seducing some poor, pretty schmuck.
I hadn’t been here before, but I was enjoying the vibe. The crowd was young, eager, hungry for a good time and dancing always made me feel energized, like I could do anything.
Weaving through the sweaty bodies, I make my way to the bar and pull myself up onto a navy and gold stool. Dark glossy tiles and huge mirrors behind the bar, make it feel intimate, like an enclosed space where you could just curl up and hide, almost like a cocoon. Gold cages, with beautiful guttering blue butterflies hang just above my head, casting a dim light below.
Once I’ve ordered an Un-Birthday cocktail, a curious concoction with rose liquor and pink fizz, I settle myself in one of the seating areas. Here the walls were a dark, deep navy color with a gradient that gradually fed into white at the top. The sofas were covered in velvet navy and white cushions, adorned with gold embroidery and tassels. It was all tastefully done, and I wasn’t surprised given that it was owned by the Volkov twins, former Russian model socialites, turned business owners.
A few minutes later I’m joined by Cato, the designated dealer for this club. Tonight their dyed green hair is worn long around their shoulders, held back from their face with cute black glittery butterfly clips. Cato’s rocking a black leather harness over a black mesh shirt, pierced nipples shining every time they catch in the lights. The same goes for their lip ring. This is teamed with a short-pleated shirt and a pair of thigh high-laced up boots. They look incredible, and for a moment I’m jealous. Tonight, I’d come out wearing an outfit I’d borrowed from Lola, a cute babydoll mini dress in white with a tiny red heart pattern and a pair of red platform heels. I was adorable and fuckable in a bratty kind of way while Cato just looked sinful.
Cato leans forward, pulling me into a kiss as their hand links with mine. Up this close, I can see the gemstones they’ve placed around their eyes and the glitter that shimmers on their skin. When they finally pull away, my hand clenches around the small baggie they’ve left behind.
They offer me a small smile as they stroke my hair, curling it between their long slender fingers. “I’ve missed you Ro.”
Cato was another one I’d met on the streets of East Point, where they’d been selling themselves for a pimp who didn’t give a shit about his clientele. Lola and I kind of adopted Cato into our little found family, and for a while it was just the three of us. Cato eventually decided to move on, and there were no hard feelings about that. In fact, when they heard Lola had started working at The Top Hat, they’d reached out, desperate to reconnect. That was almost four years ago and now Cato was a Family approved drug dealer, which meant they were a valuable asset since dealers always had their ears to the ground. If anything happened in this town, Cato knew about it.
“What’s this?” Grinning, I tuck the packet into my cleavage to inspect later.
They reach over and take a sip of my drink, using it as an excuse to get closer to me. Mouth inches away from my ear, they explain, “White Rabbit, it’s new. Cleaner apparently, less risky, not mixed with any nasty shit.”
I doubt anyone can hear us over the music, but it never hurts to be cautious, so I slide my hands into their hair. Besides, it wasn’t like it was a hardship to press myself against Cato. “Hmmmmm, and let me guess, twice the price?”
“No, actually.” Hands roam up my legs, and to the outside world we look like two young people about to hook up in a club. “My sources say The Family has an agreement with an organization in Bolivia, meaning they control the regulation, the import and the price.”
“Why would they do that?” I murmur, more for myself than Cato.
Kissing along the curve of my neck, Cato’s words flutter across my skin. “There’s always going to be drugs, that’s a fact of life. Why not control what you can if you can?”
Tilting my head back, I laugh. “So, what, Julian Asaro is some sort of coke angel?”
Their hands slide under my skirt and dig into my ass as I’m pulled into their lap. “It’s a power play. Control the drugs, control the quality and you’ll control the people who buy it and sell it.”
“Ahhhhh Cato, but my plan is to control the man who controls the drugs.” I shimmy down their legs until I’m back, standing on my feet. “I want what’s his. And I’m going to take it, one way or another.”
Holding out my hand, I drag them back on to the dance floor, my mind filled with images of Julian Asaro’s face when he discovers just how deep my roots run in this little Family tree.
