Page 6 of Vicious Souls

“Coulda been. She’s won big three nights in a row. Been putting the men in their place, alright.” There is a note of respect in her tone as the bartender continues to sing mystery woman’s praises. I continue to watch as the poker player lets out a chuckle and throws more chips on the table. She has a certain level of confidence about her.

My gaze strains to a man standing by her shoulder as he leans down and whispers something into her ear. I watch as her face morphs from playful to angry, a crimson streak moving up her neck and staining her cheeks.

“She’s a looker, too, don’t you think?” the bartender adds. “Men don’t leave her alone. Think in bed they can control what they can’t control in here.”

“She’s a little young, no?” I ask, finally realizing just how young she looks. She doesn’t look like she’s a day over seventeen. How is it that she is even allowed into a place like this?

The bartender notices my confusion and lifts the collar of her shirt to claim ignorance. “Don’t look at me, man. I have no jurisdiction over who enters the club. It’s a free for all.”

There is a little pause before she lifts her chin in my direction and asks me if I’m a cop.

“Do I look like a cop?” I ask, offended.

“You’re one mighty curious George, I’ll give you that. Word to the wise,” she starts. “We may not have bouncers at the doors, but there’s security everywhere. Cameras all over the place,” she warns. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

5

MYSTERY WOMAN

Ican’t shrug off the feeling that I’m being watched. I look around the dimly lit gas station before I cross the street and surge through the mesh fence of the derelict industrial building which stands on the edge of town, condemned by the city and slated for demolition – date to be advised. I smirk internally when I read the notice fixed to the fence; the building will never be nuked. I know the sign states what pretty office boys like to tell themselves when they try to pass themselves off as upstanding citizens with the community’s best interests at heart. I know better. I hurry down the side of the building until I reach my destination.

The Udder is set so far back in the cluster of buildings, well away from the road that it could never be discovered by anyone who isn’t actually looking. I cross the carpark quickly, scanning the parked vehicles as I go. It’s a full house tonight. My adrenaline spikes as I think of all the trouble I could find myself in on this gorgeous evening. I hurry down the narrow stairs and shove through the soundproof door, emerging into the chaos of the underground bar.

I learnt early on in life to be observant of my surroundings. It’s a trait which has served me well throughout my life. It is also the reason my internal antenna is now on high alert. Earlier, I had felt like I was being watched. Now I am certain of it as I take a surreptitious glance toward the bar from beneath my long lashes. I don’t know who he is, even as he is trying hard to remain under my radar, but I know for sure that he is watching me. Damn good looking bastard, too.

He had followed me into the club earlier, and he’s trying not to make it obvious, but his eagle eyes keep swinging in my direction. He could be trouble; he could be anyone and he could want anything. All I know is I have to finish my game and blow this joint before things get any weirder. Handsy leaning over my shoulder is not helping, either. Usually, the men that hit on me pretty much get the picture that I’m not interested and fade into the background quietly, but this one just keeps coming back for more. He’s a little drunk, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets thrown out of the club if he keeps harassing me but right now, I need to focus on my game and not the crocodile boots this damn cowboy is wearing. I could maybe deal with one drama tonight, but having two simultaneous concerns isn’t going to go down well, so I might as well cut my losses and run.

I come to these places because they offer me a sense of anonymity. I feel safe here in the underground, even with the swirl of cigar smoke and dealers peddling all manner of luxury goods. It is safe because the security, believe it or not, is second to none. And anyone that steps out of line is tossed out on their ass by any one of a number of security personnel blending seamlessly with the patrons. I’ve never run into any trouble here, but if tonight is anything to go by, I think I may very well have outstayed my welcome and need to move on to another club.

I watch as the bartender finishes her conversation and moves away from the man that’s watching me. If the looks they were tossing my way are anything to go by, they were discussing me. That could be a bad thing. He could be a cop, for all I know. I turn my attention away from the bar and back to the poker table.

There’s a healthy respect between me and the other players as we exchange easy banter and I push more chips forward. The man that spoke to me earlier is back; he puts a hand to my shoulder and I shrug it off and whip my head around to face him. He’s irritating the fuck out of me and won’t take no for an answer. A few of the men at the table look at him, before one speaks and makes to move out of his chair. The stranger gives me a hard look before he walks away, shaking his head angrily as he approaches the far end of the bar. He’s managed to single-handedly ruin my night.

When I win the final hand, I down the shot of tequila placed before me and rise to thank the other players for letting me sit in on their game. Truth be told, they love losing their money to me. I cash my chips and sling my handbag across my forearm, sidestepping amorous adventurers promising me a night of unadulterated lust.

I step out into the night and shiver against the snap of frigid air that engulfs me. I don’t know what to expect, but goosebumps dot the length of my bare arms. That pervasive feeling of being watched is still there, and I think it’s never been more crucial for me to leave this place than it is now. I may be crazy, but I’m not suicidal.

I walk down the narrow strip of earth between the buildings and cross the road to the deserted gas station, careful to make sure that I am not being followed. Either I am and my detection skills are lacking, or I’ve given my paranoia a seat at the table tonight, because although the night is quiet, I can’t shake the feeling of danger that swirls around me.

In the restroom, I put the toilet seat down and stand on it, reaching up to the ledge to pull my carry bag out. I must have thrown it in too far tonight, because I have to lift and stand on my toes to grab the edge of the bag and pull it toward me. I’m in such a precarious position, my heels slip on the seat, and I almost go tumbling to the ground. I quickly grab the concrete ledge and hold on, righting myself before I climb down, letting the carryall fall to the ground.

I crouch down over the bag and pull out my dress, undoing the buttons on my jeans as I rise. I’m just about to pull my jeans down when the door creaks open slowly, and a sense of foreboding fills the room. My skin bristles with all the possibilities of what may come next with this unwelcome surprise. I lift my eyes and look up into the mirror as a man enters the restroom, and my heart skips a beat as I realize it’s the man that was trying to proposition me back at the club. He was rude and obnoxious there, but now he is downright menacing as he lets the door smack closed behind him and he stands, watching me with a quiet fury in his eyes. I fist the dress in my hands, weighing up my options, however limited they are. A confined space in a deserted gas station in the middle of the night. A man and a woman. One guess how that could go.

6

MYSTERY WOMAN

Without turning to look at him, I let my gaze fall to the shelf above the wash basin where I had placed my handbag. “The money’s in my bag,” I start, letting my gaze linger on the bag, “take it.” The designer bag, let alone what is inside of it, is worth thousands.

“Now honey, I think you’re smart enough to know from our interaction at the club it’s not money I’m after,” he snickers, taking a step forward.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

Fear is a foreign concept to me. Even now, standing here with this stranger who is not going to let the night pass merely with a stolen bag, I can’t summon up a shred of fear. My voice never wavers, and my gaze as I look back up into the mirror is steely and hard. I am not one to lose and I will not go down without a fight.

“We can do this one of two ways, honey,” he starts, staring at me from beneath hooded eyes. “Either you make it easy on yourself and comply, or I drop your pants myself. I don’t mind me a bit of force, truth be told. Makes things…interesting.”

My unblinking doe eyes look back at him in the mirror, anticipating his next move. The longer we dance around one another, the more time I have to formulate a plan. There is no way I can outweigh him – he is twice my size, twice my age, and with more brawn than brains he would overpower me in a heartbeat. That didn’t mean I would make things easy for him.

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