Authors: Michelle M. Watson
Mayhem
Sitting in a low yellow chair in
Falcon’s bedroom in front of Vic’s antique vanity table that’s covered with
paraphernalia of a beauty salon, Victor spreads silky powers and creams on my
face with soft bristle makeup brushes. Vic has transformed me from an average
girl into a fairy-like goddess. The two intricate braids that are laced with
white ribbons on either side of my head rest on long shiny dark strands that
cascade down my shoulders. He has dressed me in a short white dress made of
some kind of flowy thin semi-shimmering fabric with long sleeves. No matter
which direction I move, the glittering material throws off bits of sparkles in
an array of rainbow hues. It’s reminds of something a something an angel would
wear as a fairy costume. Shiny gold sandal traps crisscross up my ankles and
legs, all the way to my knees. But the best part is that Victor has covered my
skin from neck to toe in elegant henna designs. It’s stunning. I look, well,
like an exotic princess. The only danger that I have is exiting and entering
across The Suicide Bridge. It’s the only way in and out of this town.
The trip over the bridge isn’t as bad as
I thought. My nerves about fulfilling my role as a whore outweigh my unbearable
sorrow for the death of my brother. The pain is still there, though. I just
choose not to acknowledge it.
Vic is dressed in a sparkling red suit
made completely of blood-red sequence with a matching bowtie. He laces our
fingers as the gated elevator opens to the ground level of the club. We step
off the elevator into a dark and foggy room that’s filled with dry-ice smoke
and that seems to extend to infinity. Above our heads, flashing neon laser
lights abruptly change as dancers gyrate in many glowing globe-shaped bar
cages. The club is filled with sweaty, dancing bodies.
Vic leans down to whisper in my ear,
over the ear-shattering electronic music. “I’m heading to the bar. Keep your
phone on and on vibrate. No drinking, no matter who wants to buy you a drink.
Stay close. Falcon will kill me if anything happened to you.”
Falcon was silent the entire trip up
here. He’s still unbelievably pissed at me. Livid. Instead of coming down with
us, he went to his father’s office on the top floor of this five-story building.
His father watches over the club floor from a massive glass window planted into
the wall at the perfect angle to see
everything
.
“Okay,” I mutter kind of annoyed. “Since
when do whores have babysitters?”
“Their baby-sitters are called pimps,
Izzy. I’m sure Falcon told his dad to keep the hulks they call security on our
asses. So I suggest you take my advice before Falcon decides he wants you
totally out all-together.”
“Fine,” I mumble, giving in. I hold my
right wrist up to his face. “It’s not like I can drink with this hideous neon
yellow wristband, anyway.”
He flashes me a dazzling smile that
makes my heart melt and then saunters into the direction of the bar. Victor is
gay and utterly gorgeous. As a warm-blooded female, I’m affected by his beauty
and charm.
“Hiya, beautiful,” a handsome-looking
guy with short cropped copper-colored and dark glossy eyes says, sliding
swiftly behind me.
I tip my head back to look up at him to
identify the color of his eyes and fail. Not blue. Not green. Or brown. They’re
just large black voids. For some odd reason, this irritates me. “H-h-hi,” I
stutter nervously. He’s tall and muscular and…intense.
“Why is such a pretty girl alone in a
place like this? A big bad wolf just may come and eat you alive.” He smiles,
revealing straight sharp-looking white teeth.
I haven’t been alone for a full minute
and someone is already on my tail.
“Are you that wolf?” I ask naively,
smiling back and batting my lashes. I’m trying my best to be intentionally
sweet and innocent and lacking of experience. Hopefully danger will destroy me
before I ever have another chance.
“Mmmm,” he rumbles lowly, the sound
vibrating through his chest, “I could be.” His hand drops down and suddenly
interlocks with mine, tugging me into the mass of people on the dance floor. He
doesn’t stop until we’re thoroughly hidden by everyone. He grins and turns me
around so my back is pressed to his front. He painfully squeezes my hips.
Feeling his erection jab me in my backside, I toss my head back on his chest from
the sensation. He sinks his sharp teeth into the side of my neck and I gasp,
struggling out of his hold.
He chuckles sinisterly and releases me.
My hand flies to my wound in shock. I
think he broke skin.
“You asshole!
You bit me!” I yell
furiously.
Mr. Asshole smirks,
then
pulls something from his jean pocket. He extends his hand, unclenching his
fist, revealing a variety of different pills. Some are clear capsules filled
with white powder; others are engraved with many things like hearts,
butterflies, birds, peace signs, and stars. Some are even shaped as cartoon
characters like SpongeBob SquarePants. They look like vitamins. Then there is a
tiny baggy containing something that looks like shaved ice crystals.
“Molly, X, ice,
vicodin
,”
he points out, educating me on a little drug lesson.
“I don’t want any pills,” I declare in
disgust, shaking my head.
“These are not just any pills. Take one.
You’ll be on cloud nine.”
Abandoning the responsibilities and
grief-stricken agony and playing the role of young, stupid girl, I nod. I
quickly scoop up four pills from his palm and pop them in my mouth, swallowing
immediately.
“Oh, shit!” His eyes widen in disbelief.
He anxiously glances around for any witness and then hurriedly dropping the
pills back in his pocket. “You only needed one.”
A horrifying emotion strikes me. My
hands cling to either side of his expensive button-down shirt, gripping
tightly.
“Oh my God!
Am I gonna die?!”
“Maybe,” he taunts, grinning smugly,
looking down at me. “It was just too easy. Something isn’t right.”
My brows frown. “What?”
“You’re too willing and too eager. You
want
to be in some kind of trouble. Don’t you?”
I release my hands from his shirt and
take an unsteady step backward, bumping into a group of people. I murmur
apologizes before he pulls me back to his chest by my wrist. “I can still give
you a rush of danger if you want,” he whispers in my ear, then flicking it with
his tongue afterwards.
I shudder and laugh nervously, wrapping
my arms around his middle, holding on to him for dear life as we sway in a
gentle motion, though everyone one around us are moving to a much faster tempo.
“Can we just dance for a little bit?”
“Yeah,
beautiful.
We can dance all night.” He grasps my ass, pinning me into his hard-on and squeezes,
and I let him.
After dancing for a while, the lights
appear to flash quicker and slower at the same time. Dazed, I stare at the
chunky scraps of glistening confetti as it showers down, fluttering all around
us like glittering butterflies. Laughing breathlessly in pure delight, I open
my mouth and try to catch some. Mr. Asshole starts to laugh hysterically when I
begin to jump and down, sticking my tongue out my mouth like I’m trying to
catch fluttering snowflakes. I don’t know why but I want to taste confetti.
It’s so pretty and shiny like candy sprinkles. I don’t know how long I jump,
but I keep hopping until I break out into a severe sweat.
Pieces of the glittering material stick
to my forehead and chin and arms, avoiding my mouth all together. Mr. Asshole
is still laughing. He’s laughing so hard that he doubles over with tears in his
eyes, resting his hands on his knees.
Pouting, I stop bouncing. “I need some
in my mouth,” I whine, vigorously shaking his arm.
His laughter dies. He immediately straightens
his pose. “I can put something in your mouth.”
I smile, feeling elated now. “You can?”
I’m no longer in control of anything I feel or say. I’m in this warm and fuzzy
altered state where I want be loved and fucked at the same time.
His eyes drop to my lips as he nods.
“Yeah.
I can. It’s huge, too.”
Squealing, I excitedly clap my hands
together. “Can I have it now?” I don’t know what he has for me, but I hope it’s
really good.
His eyes narrow a little as he cocks his
head to the side. “I don’t know, beautiful,” he taunts playfully. “Have you
been a good girl tonight?”
“Oh, yes!” I desperately cling to his
arm with both of mine. “I’ve been really good. Please?”
“You have to prove how good you can be.
Okay?”
I don’t know why I want to please him. I
just do.
“Okay.”
“Let me go.”
I drop my arms. Then he places a hand on
the small of my back, pushing me towards him, crushing me to his chest. His
hands start to travel up the back of thighs. I shudder and gasp as his hands
move under the fabric of my dress. He pauses at my upper thighs.
“Sill yourself, beautiful.”
“I can’t. It tickles.”
“You can. Wrap your arms around my neck
and press into me if you think you’re gonna move.”
“Okay,” I mumble complying, nuzzling my
face in his neck. He smells of cigarettes, sweat, and loud cologne.
His hands continue to explore my
backside. His breathing begins to accelerate with mine. “I gotta fucking hot
chick for once.
Cannot believe my luck.”
Laughing, I decide to bite down on his
neck. He bit me, so I want to bite him back.
Retaliation.
“
Shit!
” He harshly shoves me back
as his hand covers the bite mark. I stumble but catch myself before I fall down
and bust my ass on the dance floor.
He eyes are black soulless pits and his
lips curl up like a vicious animal. He looks angry and extremely frightening.
“Bitch!
You fucking tore a chunk from my neck!” Droplets of
blood trickle down from under his hand.
Tears spring to my eyes, tasting the
sharp tang of his blood in my mouth. It’s gross and tastes like salt and rust.
I truly wasn’t trying to hurt him.
“I’m so-o-o-orry,” I sob. Taking in a
deep breath, I try to calm down. “D-do I still get my prize?”
His eyes widen in bafflement. “Are you
insane? I’m not putting my dick anywhere near a Hannibal Lecter bitch like
you.”
“I’m not a Hannibal Lecter bitch,” I
wail before he stalks away.
“His lost,” a familiar voice says from
behind.
I twirl around to see Max Gabai. The
sculpted perfection of his face knocks every wisp of air from my lungs. He
chopped his wavy dark locks into a short buzz cut. And he’s smiling.
Beautiful, handsome Max Gabai from high
school is smiling at me?
He waves an attention seeking hand in
front of my face. “Hello? Isabel? Is anyone home?”
My hands reach out to hold his to my
chest. “Are you real?”
His eyes slant halfway close as his
smile broadens. “Yes. I’m real and so are you.”
“No way,” I say, astounded. “What were
you doing behind me?”
His free hand tugs the flap of his
jacket back and he flashes me a golden cop badge that twinkles. It’s pinned to
his shirt uniform.
“You’re a cop?!”
“Yes,” he replies, still smiling.
“Are you going to arrest me for taking
ecstasy and being a dirty whore?” I ask, squeezing his arm.
He laughs softly, giving his head a
slight shake. “No. I’m not going to arrest you, Isabel. Just let me take you
home.”
“B-b-but my brother died, Max. I’m so
sad.
Me so sad right now.”
“Isabel—”
“I can’t.”
He stares at me with strangest look,
then his jaw tenses as he considers something. “My shift here is over. To gain
a peace of mind, I need you somewhere safe.”
“Can I come home with you?”
His eyes move to my hands that grip his
arm.
My phone begins to vibrate and ring in
my bra while I idly gape at him.
Max grins. “Are you gonna get that?”
“I don’t think I can.”
Without warning, he slips his hand in my
dress, snatching the buzzing phone out of my bra. Smirking, he scans the name
on the screen and then answers.
“Hunter, long time, no talk.”
He pauses, looking at me as an infuriated voice shouts through the other end.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Ah, don’t worry about her, man. She’s
with
me
.
Safe.
I’ll make sure to keep her
nice
and warm
for you.
Buh-bye.”
He ends the call,
turning his heated gaze to me.
“You and Hunter?”
I nuzzle my face in the arm of his sleeve,
loving the feel of it against me skin.
“Me and Hunter?”