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 powders 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 me 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 sequins 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 happens 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 altogether.”
“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 hair 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 witnesses 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 going to 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 apologies 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 up 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 altogether. 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 to 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 my 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 going to 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.
His 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 the 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 going to 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 my skin. “Me and Hunter?”
“Are y’all together?”
“Are we ever together? He said I didn’t exist.”
“You exist alright. You’re the most luminous thing in here. He’s just mad because he can’t have you. No one can because of him. Let’s get you nice and warm.”