I Walk the Line ♤ (gxg)

chapter 11: against the wall

The hand stayed digging into the back of her upper arm, leading her throughout the enormous hotel.

Every light was turned on in the large room which August assumed to be some sort of lobby even though it was the very middle of the night.

"Most of my men's partying usually ends somewhere around this time," Willow stated, her shoulder brushing against August's. "They are probably all asleep or fucking women in their room right now." By "men," she meant both the men and women under her leadership in the Blue Porcelain gang.

August's jaw tightened. She couldn't stand the way the woman kept grabbing her and pushing her around in such a demanding, authoritative way. She wanted to rebel against her, to yank her arm away and tell her to stop leading her around like she was her child or pet that she had to keep a leash on. The only thing stopping her was the gun in the woman's belt.

"I bet you wish you were fucking that waitress in your room right now," August stated, trying to get some sort of conversation from the woman. She remembered the night on the roof with her in October and how it wasn't hard to spark a convo with her. She also had noticed they had a common interest in sarcasm and cynics. She figured that if she could get on a conversational level with the woman, she might be able to earn her trust and find a way to escape, because at that moment, she knew that there was no chance of her ever leaving that hotel if the woman was going to be clinging onto her like that all the time.

"Damn right," Willow muttered, walking straight through the quiet lobby, their steps echoing all the way to the tall chandelier hanging over their heads. They stopped in front of an elevator that opened right after her finger pressed the button.

Pulling the girl inside, causing her to almost trip and stumble, Willow pressed the number 4 on the keypad, leaning her other shoulder against the wall and never removing her firm hand from August's upper arm.

Right as the elevators began to close, a dark-haired man suddenly appeared and slipped in, his bloodshot eyes landing on Willow and his feet stopping right in the doorway of the elevator. "Miss," he greeted her, bowing his head downwards for a moment.

Willow gracefully nodded her head downwards as if silently granting him permission to enter the elevator. He walked in, pressing the number 7 on the keypad before standing right beside August as the three stared at their reflections in the closing silver elevator doors.

August looked to her right at the woman who stood perfectly still, her expression neutral as she stared straight ahead. It was then that August really took in how Willow had the dignified stance of a graceful leader. It surprised her how everyone they had come across treated Willow with respect, although she did have to admit that she always picked up an undertone of fear in their voices.

She then slowly glanced to her left and was met with the man's dark eyes. His thin lips spread into a crooked smile, showing his even more crooked teeth. August held her breath, distrustful of the odor that was probably emanating from those chiclets. Discomfort made all her muscles tense as the man leaned closer to her, the tattoos covering his neck becoming clearer.

Her breath hitched in her throat when he raised a chubby finger to her hair, twirling one of her soft brown curls. His finger smelled of sweat and beer. "Fresh meat?" he growled, glancing up at Willow.

Willow's sharp green eyes sliced through the air to meet the man's. August gasped from surprised when she felt Willow's hand unexpectedly tug her body closer to hers, feeling the woman's coat scratch against her shoulders. "No," was all Willow said to the man, and it was all she had to say. He slightly nodded and immediately turned back to face the elevator doors, standing up straighter than he had before.