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Saint does the same thing, but with a bigger portion this time and passes Alek the knife. Alek smiles, before offering the drugs to Adam. Adam isn’t offended because, in this business, you can’t trust anyone. He accepts the knife and snorts the drugs like it’s candy.
Satisfied, Alek licks the tip of his pinkie. He inserts it into the brick, then slips his finger into his mouth and rubs it vigorously along his bottom gum. I watch all this in utter shock. In my line of work, I’ve seen drug use, but this is something you’d expect to see on the set ofThe Godfather. Alek squeezes my leg and hollers in delight.
“That’s some good cocaine!” he exclaims, reaching for the bottle of vodka. Adam claps happily as the mood lightens.
“I’ll have my men deliver the first shipment tomorrow at the drop-off point.”
Alek pours three glasses of vodka, nodding happily. “Excellent. I will want to triple that amount every month, and I’ll organize payment the first of each month. As long as we’re clear that you sell to me andonlyme.”
The whites of Adam’s eyes reveal his excitement. “That can be arranged.”
The vibe may be tranquil, but this is just the calm before the storm because when Adam asks, “And Chow?” it kickstarts the real reason we’re here.
Alek slides a glass of vodka across the table, which Adam accepts. “You let me worry about Chow.”
Sara’s foot bounces uncontrollably, a sure sign the drugs are kicking in, and when Alek slides his hand up the hem of my dress, I know he’s following her in hot pursuit.
I desperately want to flee, but where do I go? I’m trapped in yet another cage with my captor.
“You like this one?” Adam says, watching me closely.
If Saint had hackles, they’d be standing on end.
Alek caresses his fingertips along my flesh. Back and forth. Back and forth. His touch is like fire and ice, and I don’t mean that in a good way. “Yes, I do.”
He walks his fingers higher, inching way too close to my underwear. As much as I want to recoil, I don’t. I won’t show this bastard weakness, so I stare straight ahead, focusing on the barely legal stripper straddling the silver pole. It seems we’re all prisoners in our own personal hell.
A winded gasp has my attention shifting because I wonder what has captured Sara’s attention. What I see, though, has me realizing her gasp is in pure fear, not interest.
“You double-crossing asshole,” says a man, edging through the door. The reason Sara looks seconds away from passing out is because the gunned man has Hans as a hostage.
Saint instantly springs into attack, drawing his gun. But the man uses Hans as his shield. He has the barrel of his gun pressed to Hans’s temple, who has his hands raised in surrender. Saint snarls angrily, coming to a standstill with his gun trained on the assailant.
“Hello, Chow,” Alek says calmly. Regardless of what is happening, his hand caressing my leg doesn’t falter. Adam’s eyes are wide as he watches the scene unfold.
“Don’t hello Chow me!” he shouts, peering over Hans’s shoulder as he seems to know that Saint doesn’t miss. “What are you doing with this slimy bastard?”
Adam’s men also have their guns drawn, but they don’t have a clear shot. They gather closer to our table, flanking us to protect us.
“Put down the gun, Chow, before you get hurt,” Alek mocks, coming to a slow stand. I exhale, thankful he’s removed his hand, but when I see Sara, I know there is nothing to be grateful for.
“Fuck you!” he screams, pressing the gun into Hans’s temple shakily. “Why did you tell me to come here?”
Alektipped him off? Why?
Everything soon unravels although I wish it didn’t.
“Because our dealings have come to an end,” Alek explains, reaching for his glass of vodka. “You’re indiscreet and can’t be trusted.”
The music over the speakers soon mutes, and the patrons are quick to leave. They too sense the tension hanging thick in the air and don’t want to hang around. The ladies on the stage grab their money and quickly exit through the red curtain behind them.
Even though this is foreign to me, I can imagine it happens in here far too often.
“What are you talking about?” Chow says, but he knows.
Alek leisurely takes a sip of his drink, savoring the burn. “You sold to my rival”—he inhales sharply, hinting this is personal—“when I’m supposed to be the only person you sell to. That doesn’t look good for business, especially when that person undercuts me and sells the product for half of what I do. You know what happens to people I don’t trust? To people who betray me?” He is calm, like psychopath calm, while Chow desperately looks for an out.
My breathing is measured as I’m too afraid to make a sound.
