Signed To The Streets Volume I : LOYALTY
In the shadowy alleys of Queens, Maëva Carter Simmons plays a dangerous game. A pawn in the ruthless gang Everybody Gets Murked, she claws her way from a hellish past, her loyalty to the gang her only anchor...
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Infinity's Sweetness, Sunnyside, Queens, New York. SEPTEMBER 2023
HEART POUNDING, I sprint towards the back exit of Infinity's Sweetness, knowing I'm tardy for our Wednesday evening meeting at our new gentlemen's club.
Bursting through the heavy metal door, I expect to find Missy's office lit up like Times Square. Instead, I stumble upon a scene straight outta a mob flick.
"Shit."
"Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence," he drawls, cigarette dangling from his lips like a menacing wisp of smoke.
I freeze, feeling the weight of his dark gaze roaming around the room.
See, Mike's usually in and out, like a ghost in the night. Him sticking around spells trouble, big time. We ain't used to seeing him here, not in the flesh. Usually, it's all video calls, texts, or whispers in the shadows.
The bass thumps in the background, six screens flashing footage of our new joint. It was packed. But right now, all I can focus on is the danger oozing from Mike's dark eyes.
"Got an explanation for your lil delay, sweetheart?" he says, his tone soft but his words sharp as broken glass. I swallow hard, trying to muster up some of my usual comebacks. But at this moment, even I can't deny the fear coursing through my veins.
"My car was actin' up."
"Mm, and what happened exactly?"
"Sum' oil problem," I blurt out, trying to sound convincing.
But Mike's not easily fooled. "You can still drive with that," he counters.
"My Altima hasn't seen the light of day in two years. I can't risk it," I insist, praying he'll buy my story.
He takes a drag from his cigarette, his demeanor shifting slightly. For a moment, his gaze softens, and I dare to hope I've dodged a bullet. Then, out of nowhere, he starts panting, his grip on the desk tightening.
Confusion washes over me as I watch him struggle for breath."What's wrong?" I ask, desperation still clawing at my throat.
He shuts his eyes, his chest heaving as he tries to regain control of himself. After a few agonizing seconds, he opens his eyes, but they're empty, devoid of any emotion.
It's as if he's disconnected from reality, lost in some dark abyss. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him, a cold chill creeping down my spine.
As Mike leans back in his chair, casually lighting another cigarette, he throws out, "So, what's the deal?"
I'm caught off guard, wondering if he's even clocked his creepy antics. Before I can even process, a sight stops me cold—a chick crawls out from under the desk, buck naked.
