The Cunning

22

Jase could hear Benny talking on his way back down the stairs.

"Is she breathing?" he was asking, without a note of concern.

"Barely," Adam replied.

"For fuck's sake, why did you give her more than normal?" Sam questioned.

"Because she fucking asked for it," Benny replied. Jase pushed the living room door open ajar, Annabelle was in the recovery position on the floor, vomit in her hair. Her lips and fingers had turned a ghostly shade of blue. He sparked a cigarette.

"Is she gonna make it?" he asked.

Adam sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Maybe."

Jase nodded slowly, turning and leaving them to clean up the mess. She wasn't going to make it and with how Annabelle had been behaving recently, that had likely been her goal.

A drive to clear his head was better than waiting for an earful from the others once Annabelle was dealt with. They'd have a lot to say, and rightly so, but they didn't know the half of it.

Madison was smart. Too smart for her own good. If she wasn't careful, they'd both end up dead. But part of him, a very minuscule part of him, was curious and even a little impressed. It wasn't often anyone came across their path and presented a genuine challenge. Real defiance, not just a brave face.

She watched Adam inject Annabelle, she kept her mouth shut. She wasn't going to step up and be a hero if it put her at risk. She was willing to sacrifice others for her own well-being. Madison had the balls to attempt an escape and the brains to know when to stand down.

The fear in her eyes from that night in the alleyway flashed in his mind every time he looked at her. Of all the people holding out and making a break for it, she would have been the last guess. It was evident now that underestimating her might not be the wisest maneuver. Jase wanted to see what her next move was. There was a game plan in place and she was playing for keeps. She was also stressing him out.

With a frustrated sigh at his predicament, Jase pulled into the parking lot behind the Gentlemen's Club their boss, Ramon, owned.

A heavyset security man greeted him at the entrance with a nod, holding the door open. The sparkling stairs leading down into the club glowed neon purple; music poured out of the double doors at the bottom as he pushed them inwards, walking into the lavish, velvet clad club. Private booths lined one wall, and a bar lined the other. Chairs and tables were dotted around the rest of the club floor, facing the stage where a girl was swaying around a pole.

"Hey, stranger," the head barmaid chirped, taking out a crystal tumbler and free pouring a large whiskey. Jase slid her a fiver.

"Sasha, how's business?" Sasha shrugged, turning to the stage,

"Busy, as per." Sasha had been around for several years. She was Ramon's daughter, the product of an affair with a mistress much younger than his wife. Then his wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer and he broke off the affair, gave his mistress money to leave them alone so his wife could die without getting her heart broken. Eighteen years later, Sasha appeared at the club looking for her dad. He had no one else and saw her as a blessing.

She was the only person Ramon cared about and for that reason, this information wasn't public knowledge and if it was found that Jase knew, Ramon would have him disposed of. Jase wasn't keen on carrying out serious business with total strangers though, he wouldn't go into anything blind and powerless.

"Is he in?" he asked, picking up the crystal glass.

"Office," she replied. He raised the drink in thanks, heading backstage down a corridor. The clubs' owner sat behind a desk in the room at the end.

"Evening," Jase greeted, sitting across from him. Ramon smiled, a shark's grin, all teeth and not in the slightest trustworthy.

"Jase, to what do I owe this visit?" he asked, sitting back and lacing his fingers.

"I was out, figured I'd come and tell you in person that we've picked up the girls. They'll be ready in a week or so."

"Brilliant. I'll have the papers sorted. While you're here, I've been hearing a few things about some Mitch guy stepping on toes, selling to my customers." Ramon curled his upper lip in annoyance.

"Mitch McKinney?" Jase asked. Ramon nodded. Jase had eyes and ears everywhere, the Mitch Ramon was referring to had started to impose now more girls were going missing. A small-time drug dealer was something they could overlook. Someone interfering with the prostitution ring meant he had everyone's attention. That's where the real money was made, and new names didn't come around often. Sleazy men were not loyal men. They liked variety and if there was too much variety, it meant there were too many other places they were spending their hard-earned cash.

"At first, I didn't pay the kid much mind, but he's causing a stir. We have a good balance for business here, you and I. You supply girls that nobody will miss; I pay you and your boys a nice sum and make sure your shit looks legal. I get the drugs imported, you dish them out, we all get a nice pay out-" Ramon's percentage was much bigger but Jase said nothing. He knew what was coming. Ramon was going to ask for a favour, "-but this Mitch bloke is fucking with the cycle."

"You want him in the cut or out of the picture?" Jase asked, swirling the rest of his whiskey in the glass.

"Let him know how we run things first, see what he thinks. You never know, he could be an asset. If he refuses then," Ramon shrugged nonchalantly, "take care of him." Jase downed the rest of his drink, nodding.

"I'll ask about, see where he hangs around and give him the rundown."

He picked up some extra product that Ramon wanted to shift and headed back to the bar. Sasha was wiping the top down, the dishwasher whirred, rinsing the last few glasses as the club emptied. It was already two in the morning.

"Another one for the road?" she asked. Jase came to a stop, pursing his lips in thought. His eyes stung and he could feel an impending headache creeping into their sockets.

"Or maybe something a little more distracting? You look like you've been working hard, Jase." An acrylic nail traced the back of his neck. One of the dancers stepped in front of him, perching on the barstool, swinging one long leg over the other suggestively. The shimmering low-cut dress was worn to entice men, but Jase didn't have a penchant for the promiscuous workers. Regardless of how they dressed it up with what they believed was glamorous, it wasn't his cup of tea. He had a long list of contacts in his phone that would be more than accommodating if he wanted to blow off steam and none of them expected a different kind of tip when he finished.

"I'm good, thanks," he said, directed at Sasha who smirked, amused at the disregarded stripper who scowled and pouted at Jase. He turned his attention back to her. "Get back to work. I'm here on business, not pleasure." She lightened up immediately at the acknowledgement of her existence.

"Shame," she purred, slipping off the stool and out of sight. Jase rolled his eyes, said goodnight to Sasha and left, back up the glittering staircase.

*

Well Theydies and Themtlemen, I understand this chapter is a bit heavy and weirdly disconnected so, to lighten the mood, tell me what you wanted to be when you grew up. I wanted to be a wrestler or an author, clearly one of them seemed more feesible than the other. Let me know in the comments, and don't forget to vote!