Mikhail

2

The loud music and flashing strobe lights mixed with the burning tequila was exactly what I needed to brush past the mishap of last week and its consequences.

My father had unjustly forbidden me from carrying a gun, and had assigned Vinnie and James to be my informal nannies.

How humiliating.

The small handgun strapped discreetly to my upper thigh was the only piece of dignity I held, and my father nor James needed to know about it. Vinnie didn't mind it, always having treated me as an equal instead of a fragile baby bird.

Our topless waitress placed shots of tequila onto the small and black table in our private area, surrounded by the four of us in cushioned seats. I downed it in one go, followed by Anastasia and Vinnie.

James remained stoically silent in the corner, not bothering to join in our fun and content instead in inspecting the mass of people dancing below us on the main floor.

"Fucker couldn't keep his mouth shut," Vinnie finished off his account of a hit they had completed during the weekend, "he screamed like a whore."

"I'm confused as to why you'd opt for a knife instead of a gun," Anastasia wondered, inching closer to his side.

Her attempts at gaining his attention were either disregarded or he was too blind to notice them.

"He likes to drag it out," I explained, grinning knowingly when Vinnie laughed, "it's probably an ego thing."

"Definitely is, ay, James?" He turned to the man in the corner, who in turn remained quiet and uninterested in our fun.

He grunted out something in reply, firm gaze set on examining any possible threats in the crowd of clubgoers.

"I can't imagine your ego would need boosting," Anastasia flirted shamelessly, her hand placing itself on his muscular thigh.

I laughed quietly to myself, amused by the ensuing awkwardness due to the lack of reaction gained by her action.

"How much is it that you could bench, again?"

Ignoring her sultry inquiry, his eyes found mine with excitement, "hey, how about we pay that waitress a little extra for a show?"

"A show? She's already topless, what more could you need?" James sneered, displeased with Vinnie's lack of professionalism on the job, "first you drink and now you want to whore around? We're working, you imbecile."

"Oh, relax," I offered James a shot from the table, "this'll loosen you up."

He grunted and diverted his gaze, staying put. We laughed at his obvious frustration, brushing it off.

I excused myself after a moment and a few more shots, while Vinnie called the waitress back for more drinks, and to discuss the possibility of whatever show he had been thinking of.

I descended the steps from our area to the main floor, watching as the people below me danced on whatever substances we had provided them with.

My father and his father before him had trafficked humans, drugs and weapons, until the death of my mother. From there, my father had vowed never to associate himself with human trafficking, as not to risk another devastating fate of the likes my mother had had in the hands of a psychotic competitor in the already disgusting business.

I pushed past the tightly packed sweaty bodies toward the long and dim hallway leading to the bathrooms.

Afterward I chatted with a few unfamiliar women who were reapplying their makeup by the mirrors. They had been complaining about one of their boyfriends who hadn't replied to any texts or calls in a few days, and sounded to be an inconsiderate and disrespectful guy. My stance on men being a waste of time and an utter nuisance seemed to lift their spirits, and they had agreed vehemently, excited to have me backing them up.