Page 34 of Carnival Queen

“I think we found our managers,” said Vince. “I’ll work my way around to the back. You guys work your magic.”

“I see the boys,” said Antoine. He turned to his brother and gripped his shoulder. “Don’t get hurt. Mama and Kari would eat me alive.” Miller just laughed, walking toward the bar.

“Let’s make this one a show,” said Whiskey.

He walked toward the stage, one of the young women gyrating around the pole. Her head lobbed to the left, then right, as if it weren’t securely attached to her body. Whiskey stumbled, whistling and cheering as he reached for the girl. She screamed, and he stared directly at her.

“Run. Go backstage.”

She grabbed the other girls and ran from the stage, the customers booing the drunken man. Whiskey felt the grip of someone’s hand on his arm and smiled. Turning, he was face-to-face with two bouncers.

“Hey, fellas. What’s up?”

“You’re leaving.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I’m not.”

With a well-placed kick to the first man’s groin, he was down on the floor crying like a baby. When the second pulled his weapon, Whiskey realized it was truly going to be a fun night.

With a hard kick to his knee, the man’s leg bent backwards in an awkward position. Whisky spun him, gripping his neck and pulling him down. The other customers stared at them, wondering if they should jump in or get the hell out of there.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the two managers standing, both pulling their own weapons.

“Fuck,” muttered Whiskey. “Don’t do it.”

“You’re a dead man,” smirked the first man.

Before Whiskey could even respond, he felt the air of something flying by his face, then saw the other man face down on the table. His partner stared at him, his hand shaking so badly he couldn’t lift the weapon. When another whoosh of air went by him, he slowly turned, knowing exactly what it was.

“You are getting slow, old man,” said Trak. “He could have shot you.”

“You didn’t give me a chance!”

“You would have been dead,” he frowned.

“Why are you here?”

“We saw you on the trackers and knew it was close. I was awake and thought I would join in. Where are the girls?”

“Girls and boys,” said Whiskey, pointing backstage. He noticed Ogie running through the curtain, and Whiskey shook his head. “He’s with us.”

The men followed the big young man, finding him kneeling beside a tiny girl, prone on a torn sofa.

“She won’t wake up,” he said, weeping. Whiskey immediately felt for a pulse, then looked around the room.

“What did they give you?” he asked the other women. They all shook their heads, some crying, some still in the permanent daze that had become their lives. “What did they give you?”

A girl stumbled toward a locker and opened it, showing them the variety of pills and vials that the bouncers and managers used.

“Trak? Who else is here?” asked Whiskey.

“Zeke, Tailor, Alec, and Ivan.”

“Ogie, you remember Mr. Ivan, right?” The young man nodded, still weeping over his girlfriend. “Find him. He’s out there. Find him and tell him we sent you to take the girl to our clinic. We’ll handle the rest of them.”

Ogie didn’t bother to argue with the man. If she died, he’d die as well. He lifted his beautiful girl and ran into the now panicked crowd as fire alarms went off. Trak directed the girls out the back, where vans waited to get them somewhere safe.

“Trak, there are boys hidden behind the bar. Find them. I’m going to have a chat with those two men out there.”

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