Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Two large men stand over a naked woman in the far-right corner. She’s lying on her back on a large table, gripping her breasts, and smiling up at them. The men pour liquid all over her, and she spreads it through every line, hole, and crease of her body.
I look past the filthy display, pushing my way through the first gap I spot. The performers play metal rock that drowns out almost every noise, even though people are yelling. I can already sense a headache coming on.
Stand by the bar. Tell me what you see. I hear Caz’s voice in my head and look around, as if he’ll appear.
Can you see what I see?
No, but I can hear it. And I feel your heart beating. Relax. Blend in. No one will notice you unless you make a scene.
I swallow hard, bumping into some of the rocking bodies. A woman ends up grabbing my hand, wanting to dance with me, but I shake my head and brush her off. Men stare at me, some glaring with disgust, others licking their lips with interest. I keep going until I’ve reached the bar. I can’t see a thing on the dancefloor.
The counter is surrounded by a metal cage. There are no stools or chairs to sit on. The bar is its own entity, and the people outside it are beggars, thirsting and desperate.
Two people stand behind the bar—a female with oily hair and red highlights, and a bald, thick-necked man who is shouting angrily at one of the drunk clubbers through one of the windows of the cage, asking what he wants. I decide to go to the woman. If I’m going to blend in, I’ll need to at least hold a drink.
I approach the bar woman, and she peers through the window at me. “What will it be?”
Ask for a gold tonic. Caz’s voice is firm. “A gold tonic, please.”
The woman scoffs, I’m assuming at my manners.
Don’t be so nice. Rippies are rude by nature.
I sigh, letting his voice pass, waiting patiently for the drink.
What do you see?
I take a look around the club. People dancing. Another bar. Sofas near the back wall.
Any other doors besides the one you walked through?
I scan the room, my eyes stopping on a door by a hallway. I see one. Next to the bathrooms, I think.
Give it a try.
The bartender brings back my drink, sliding it across the counter to me, not caring that some of the liquid spills. “Thirteen rubies,” she says.
I dig into my black pouch and pluck out some of the rubies Caz gave me for this very moment. She extends her hand out, and I drop them into her palm.
“Keep the rest,” I tell her.
With a quick bob of the head, she turns away, and I leave the bar, moving across the room to get near the restrooms. The band seems to be playing harder on their instruments, their heads bobbing wildly, hair swinging all over the place. I reach the hallway, and there’s a black door. I pull it open, but nothing is inside but dirty mops and brooms. Damn it.
It's just a utility closet.
Shit. I don’t hear Caz’s voice for a few beats. Right. Well, let’s go for Plan B. Find Rami.
My eyes shift to a staircase leading up to the second floor, and as the music transitions and the crowd hollers, I hear a man’s bellowing laughter.
Stepping to the left to get a better look, I see him standing behind a barbed-wired gate. His clothes are different from everyone else’s. He’s not like the others in their simple solid-colored shirts and dark pants. Everyone is uniform but him. His clothes appear cleaner, his brown and white suit crisp, and his jewelry glinting beneath the lights. He’s a tubby man, short, greasy looking, but obviously with money judging by all the gold jewelry he wears. As he laughs again, I take note of the red tooth and how the lights flicker off it. It’s him.
Do you see him?
“Yes,” I say out loud this time.
Good. You know what to do. Be careful about it.
I suck in a breath and weave through the crowd, taking the stairs up. I put a few of my locs in place with one hand while gripping my drink tighter with the other.
A pale man stands at the top of the stairs, donned head to toe in dark brown. He’s bald, his inked arms folded across his chest. A tight grimace sweeps over his face when he sees me.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I clear my throat. “Here to see Rami.”
“Rami hasn’t said anything about visitors. Now fuck off.”
“I know, but I was thinking I could surprise him.” I wrap my lips around my straw and make my eyes bigger, hoping this type of flirting works. I’m terrible at flirting.