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Prologue
“Findthatfuckinggirl.”
The CCTV replays for all my men to see. A brunette dressed as my bar staff walks down the grainy image of the back corridor and into my storeroom. Minutes later she walks out with a brick of coke and slides out of the building.
“Wow. More neck than a brass monkey.” Caeo breaks the silence with his silly comment.
I've no idea what a brass fucking monkey is, and it doesn't help my anger. Caeo is older than me; he's old school, but he's my best guy, so I'll let his remark slide. I don't want riddles, I want answers, followed by her head on a plate. No metaphor there.
“Find that fucking girl,” I repeat. The four men in the room with me all leave me alone with my anger.
This is my club; one of eleven I use to launder my drug money through. I'm a big name in this city, heir to the Thayer cartel, and no one steals my fucking drugs.
one
Porter
Themusicispumping,the club is in full swing. I finish my set at the end of this song. I'm not swinging from the chandeliers but hanging upside-down on a dance pole in tiny bootie shorts is close enough.
My twenty minute set is a hard workout and every muscle aches, but my act is one of the highest earning in the club. The song ends with another perfect dismount and a roaring crowd. OK, leering men shouting at me to 'take it off'. I never take my shorts off on stage, the punters have to pay extra for that.
Walking into the dressing room and shutting the door has the club music quieting. This has been a long night; I just want to get out of here. I love being an exotic dancer, it's exciting and freeing on most nights. This was my last set, so I start wiping the makeup from my face.
Tonight, Vince has been very touchy even though he knows I'm not interested in his advances. He owns this club and thinks it means he owns all the staff too. Seems he doesn't hear the wordnovery often; luckily he hasn’t pushed anything further than touching.
I rush through getting out of my skimpy outfit, taking a quick shower, and getting into my joggers and hoodie. Just as I throw my backpack over my shoulder the door opens, and in walks Vince. If only this guy was sexy; I have a thing for bad boys, not pervy old men.
“I've got your wages.” Vince speaks the only words I want to hear from him.
“Payday. Thanks.” The one benefit of being the only guy here who can swing horizontally around a pole means I get a decent cut. Vince holds out a roll of cash, and when I take it, he quickly grabs my wrist.
“Let's have a drink.”
“Sorry, I've got to get home and check on…” My eyes duck down to the small pen knife hidden in my boot, but I remind myself it's just for protection.
“Come on, beautiful, why in such a hurry?” he frowns.
“Yep, gotta get home and check on mum.” I tell him, like I do every night he corners me. At least payday makes it worth the encounter.
“Couldn’t your sister do that one time so we could spend some quality time getting to know each other better?” He pushes me back with what I assume is supposed to be a sexy smile as he traps me against the makeup table.
“She doesn’t live at home anymore, but maybe I'll ask her.” I try not to choke on his overpowering cologne as he leans into my space even more. Please no, I turn my head to the side as he tries to kiss me. I've had a mental discussion about this, with myself, of course, about what amount of force I should use in a situation like this. Whether I could plant my knee in his nuts and still have a job tomorrow. I need money more than honour, so I have to keep brushing him off.
Just then his phone begins to blare with his obnoxious ringtone.
“Just a minute, beautiful,” He raises a finger as he turns to take the call. The conversation is a quick one, but obviously important. While he's distracted, I take the opportunity to grab my bag from where it dropped and hurry out of the room.
My phone dings and I take a quick peek as I walk out the back door.
We need milk.
It's a message from my sister. Well look who’s home after all. Guess I'll be stopping for milk on the way.
Most people would be excited to see their twin, and a couple of years ago I would have been. We were all each other had growing up, but time changes people. Now she lives an hour away across the river. Not that it's obvious when she's home every few weeks.
And in my experience the only reason she ever comes home now is because she did something and needs it fixed.
When I pull up at the all night newsagents on the corner, I give Annie a ring. There is no way she came home and only drank the milk.
