She drowns herself in caffeine whenever we have girls coming in like this, and goes without sleep for days. Strokes' bold, but she really gets stressed out when it comes to the real work we do at Python. It's only natural, though-with the amount of risks we're taking every day, any sane person would be worried out of their minds.
"Alright, don't worry. I'll be there," I try and soothe her, but I know that she won't calm down until she sees me inside Python. "Has security been warned to be on the watch for the police?"
"Yeah, they know what to do. I just feel more at ease when you're here to handle this."
"I'll be there, Strokes," I say.
"You better. Now go have fun, we'll talk later," she finishes, ending the call.
Fuck, I wasn't really expecting a new batch of girls for today. Well, it has to be done anyway.
I push the cell phone into my pocket and head out of the room, anxious to get back to Destiny. My call with Strokes lasted for just a few minutes, so I bet I can still there and find her wet and ready to go …
Yeah, I probably should head right back to Python, but I can't just leave Destiny like this. To leave her without fucking her would be a sin.
I take several breaths. I need to do what any real man would do.
Go inside.
Fuck the living daylights out of that goddess.
Cum all over her fabulous fucking tits.
Go back to work.
Plan.
I'm heading to the stairway that leads to the balcony over the stage when suddenly a loud bang echoes through the floor, drowning out the music.
Someone screams, and I look at the entrance just in time to see the doors being slammed open.
One man in a SWAT uniform steps inside and throws a smoke grenade straight into the middle of the crowd. Immediately after, what looks like the entire fucking NYPD rushes into the club.
Like they're storming the building in a fucking war.
Fuck.
This can't be good for business.
74
Destiny
Fuck!
I should've taken Lester's threats more seriously.
I should have been ready.
But, no, I let myself go and get lost in some imaginary future, thinking that everything would work out happily in the end.
Lester would do nothing, and he would give up on this Python charade once he saw there was nothing shady going on in there.
But, of course, this was nothing more than a fantasy.
This isn't a fucking novel, hun.
There is no Happily Ever After.
I don't care what it says in the blurb. Just because HEA is guaranteed, how is it going to happen when Lester and the entire fucking NYPD are shutting down my club?
Just as Austin got a phone call and stepped outside to take it, my own cellphone started to buzz. I picked it up, unlocked it, and now here I am, standing in the middle of my office while big bold letters, all in caps, seem to scream out me.
TIME'S UP, Lester's message reads, and I feel his dark and ominous shadow cast over my club.
He's coming for me, and once he comes …
A loud bang drowns out the music. It's an explosion, a loud one, coming from the club's main room. My feet carry me out of my office and into the balcony that overlooks the stage.
Everyone is screaming and running around aimlessly, empty space forming around a can in the middle of the room. Then that small can starts to spit out a white cloud of smoke and I realize with a sinking feeling that I really underestimated Lester.
He isn't coming for me with a notice for me to close the place for inspection.
No, he's coming for me with guns blazing, blood in his eyes.
"What the fuck is going on?" Lux screams at me, appearing at my side from God knows where.
"Lester," I simply whisper, and her eyes become as wide as golden coins. She grabs the balcony railings to steady herself and then looks at me with a worried expression her face.
"You don't mean to say that--"
"Yeah, I do," I tell her, cutting her off. "He's going to raid us, and make sure we close down for good," I say gravely.
That's when a small army of men in NYPD tactical uniforms storm through the place.
They're all wearing gas masks to protect them from the smoke grenade, and they're all holding rifles, not regular service pistols.
Lester is hitting me with a fucking SWAT team. Up until now, I thought that Lester was one of these guys, brimming with threats but never having the balls to act on them.
Why did I think that, hun?
Why was I so fucking stupid?
Because look at me now!
I was wrong. Jesus, I've never been so wrong, and the Dirty Destiny and all my girls are going to pay for my mistake.
Fucking Christ!
Another explosion in the distance.
Fucking fuck.
Excuse my language, okay? I'm just watching everything I built go up in flames.
I smell smoke now.
Fucking FUCK!
Okay, I need to keep it together. I need to act. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and then look at Lux.
"Lux, I want you to get as far away from here as you can. Take every girl you find with you, and guide as many of them out of here," I tell her as she looks at me with wide eyes. "I don't want Lester to lay his dirty hands on any of my girls," I say, and she simply nods and bolts.
"GET THE FUCK DOWN!" One SWAT guys starts yelling at the customers, all of them with their hands up in the air. They look like confused cockroaches, their eyes squinted because of the smoke, but they finally start lying down on the ground.
I look around, trying to pick Austin from the crowd, but I can't recognize him from up here, the smoke covering the room like a blanket.
"GET THE FUCK DOWN!" I hear another yell, and then a gun goes off, the bright glow of the bullet being fired like a punch to my throat.
Rubber bullets, please, let it be rubber bullets, I pray to myself as I turn on my heels and enter my office, heading straight for the power switch I keep under my desk. I press it in a hurry, and all the lights go out at once, and I know that all of the security doors I have on the main room have opened.
I won't make it easy for Lester. I have no idea what lies he told the courts to get a SWAT team to storm my club, but it can't be good; I want to let as many of my customers and girls escape.
I can already see the police handcuff some of the men on the floor and drag them out into the street.
I grit my teeth as I imagine what Lester has in mind; he's probably going to take them into court and bury them in made-up charges.
But first he's going to walk them in public and shame them.
He's making sure that Dirty Destiny will never open its door again if I don't play nice, and he doesn't care about who goes down in the process.
Motherfucker!
If I could I'd choke the life out of that fucking limp dick loser right now.
"EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM," I hear someone roar, and I recognize Lester's voice among the confused cries and the shouts from the police. "FOCUS ON THE GIRLS," he shouts again, and I feel a violent rage growing inside of me.
I'm grabbing at the rails so hard that there's no blood left in my hands, and I realize that I'm shaking with fury.
Then, as if the Devil himself had set his pitch black eyes on me, there's an opening in the smoke and my eyes meet Lester's. He looks at me with a grin, his eyes small and evil, and he raises his arm and points at me.
"THERE!" he yells, spit coming out of his mouth. "SHE'S UP ON THE BALCONY, GET HER!"
I have to get out of here-now.
There's nothing I can do; I sure as hell can't face a SWAT squad by myself, so I turn on my heels and head out of the service door, a headache brewing inside my skull. I run down the cramped corridor and I push the exit door with as much strength as I can. It swings open and I step into the cold New York night, my breath pluming out of my mouth in a white cloud. I can hear heavy boots running down the corridor, and I keep running.
I go as fast as I can down the fire escape, the metallic stairs creaking and groaning as I run down.
The moment my heels hit the concrete, I look over my shoulder as two men holding revolvers look down the fire escape. They're not wearing any uniforms, but they sure as hell seem hell bent on getting their hands on me.
Gritting my teeth, I start to run as fast as I can, my heels clicking on the floor like the maddening tick of a clock, time is running out, Destiny, that repeating sound seems to say.
I turn a corner and then I keep running, pushing my body to the limit as my lungs seem to scream inside of my body. Stopping only to take my heels off, I dash down Broadway like a madwoman, and then turn another corner, step into an alley and crouch behind a car.
My heart seems to be climbing up my throat as heavy footsteps close in on me, but then the men keep on running down the street, still chasing me.
"Jesus Christ," I sigh, putting my heels back on and standing up.
Yeah, I bet I looked pretty strange, huh?
Although, this is New York City. I bet no one even batted an eye to me running around dressed the way I am with my heels. Probably just another day in Gotham, huh, babe?
I look down the street, over the top of the parked car, and a feeling of sadness and despair takes over me. Regular uniformed cops are stretching yellow lines around the Dirty Destiny's entrance, and every single one of my customers is being hauled out in handcuffs. I recognize a few of my girls, the cops dragging them out in the street as if they were cattle, some of them wearing nothing but a thong and a bra.