The four girls in our room now started panicking, screaming, crying, looking to us for answers. “Is the place burning down?” one asked. I put my hand up to the door. It felt normal. I breathed in, trying to catch a whiff of smoke, but all I could smell was cheap perfume and arousal, the usual fragrance of places like this.

  “It’s gonna be alright, ladies,” Colt said, grabbing his pistol from the table before tossing me mine. I pulled the door open just a little bit, peeking through the crack before quickly slamming it shut again.

  “Fuck,” I stammered. “Motherfucker.”

  As much as Q-Tip was revered by the ladies and by his Indignant brothers, there were at least as many men out there who hated him. Hated him to the point of wanting to see his ass in a hole. Or in this case, tied to a stripper pole with a gun pointed to his head. No matter what happed in the next minute, people were going to get hurt. People were going to die.

  The only thing that mattered right now was minimizing the carnage that these men in black masks with machine guns could inflict on all of us trapped in here. My brothers. These innocent women.

  “What?” Colt asked, his eyes the size of saucers. He stood behind the door with his pistol out as I pulled it open once again for him to look. “What the fuck?” he

  “Girls, get in that closet,” I said. “Don’t come out til me or Colt comes and gets ya. Don’t come out for nobody but us.” They were a mess: bawling, makeup running everywhere, naked limbs flailing all around. Why weren’t Colt and me acting the same way? This shit was heavy.

  “What’s going on?” the redhead wailed. “Are we going to die?”

  “Get in the fucking closet and try to be quiet,” Colt growled, holding the door open and gesturing inside, “or you’re probably gonna die.” I shot him a look of death. No sense in getting these bitches more worked up than they already were.

  “Not cool, dude,” I whispered, as he shut the door behind them, barely muffling their sobs.

  “What’s not cool is that our fucking club just got caught with their dicks out, literally. What do we do now?” I was at a loss myself. None of our officers were nearby to tell us what to do. All we had to go on were the Indignant bylaws that had been beaten into our heads over the last two years. We needed to protect our brothers at all costs, but we needed to protect these innocent bystanders first. Club rules. No civilians get dragged into our shit ever if we wanted to keep our legacy going.

  The sound of machine gun fire ripped through the building and my body grew tense, blood pumping through my veins as I double-checked that my pistol was loaded and the safety was off. “We do what we’re supposed to do, Colt. We handle shit.”

  10

  Athena: Present Day

  I slammed the keyboard with my fist, mashing the keys of my laptop and swearing under my breath.

  Fucking idiot, what the hell were you thinking?

  My desperation had got the best of me. My paranoia was at an all-time high. Harold had to know exactly what I was doing, right?

  For whatever reason, he seemed oblivious to my mission, even though I kept pushing things a little bit further every day. If he was, in fact, watching me closely, my most recent internet search history was definitely going to be the last nail in my coffin. I didn’t know what possessed me when I searched ‘how to fake your own death,’ but the second I did, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to have to fake anything.

  “Babe, what are you doing in here?” Harold asked, walking into my bedroom. I tried to hide my disgust as I looked over at the poorly aging man with the cheesy mustache and gray chest hair pouring up over the collar of his polo shirt, his thick gold chains getting lost in the tangled mess.

  When I met Harold ten years ago, seventeen-year-old me thought he was the slickest and sexiest man on the planet. He rescued me from following in my momma’s footsteps, saved me from that shithole small town, and whisked me off to Vegas. I often wondered if Harold himself really was that sexy, or if it was just the idea of him that I was so infatuated with back then, because now, to me, he was just a creepy old pervert. Just like the rest of ’em. Just like the men I left back at home.

  I think, these days, he looked at me the same way.

  I was, after all, no longer a naive seventeen-year-old. Making myself attractive enough for the industry was a full-time job between the gym, the hair, the tan, the makeup, botox, plastic surgery, whatever it took. In his eyes, I was getting increasingly more high maintenance every day. I wasn’t sure if he was just getting too old to get a boner naturally, or if he really just found me that repulsive now, but a night of wild fucking these days took at least a few Viagra for him and a copious amount of blow and a bottle of scotch for me.

  Still, he was tender towards me. Maybe it was because he was a sentimental guy. Maybe it was because I was the only person who knew how to run our business.

  I wasn’t an idiot. It was all by design.

  “Babe!” he said again, grabbing my wrist softly, moving it from the laptop. He lifted my fingers to his eyes. “You need to fix your nails.”

  “I’m working on it,” I said, jerking my hand away. One fucking chip in my black nail polish and you’d think I was ruining his life. “I’m trying to get last-minute promo pushed out for tonight. Shiloh Splinter is in town last-minute and she wants to go live with the girls.”

  “For real?” he said, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. “You’re a miracle worker. She’s a legend. Hell, you could probably sit tonight out if you wanted to.”

  I raised my eyebrows at him. Of all the rude things he’d said to me over the years, that was the one thing that pushed my buttons the worst. “It’s my show, Harold,” I said, as if he needed reminding.

  My weekly webcam show was the whole reason why our ‘promo’ company was as big as it was today. We got in early, before the big online porn boom, before you could find anything you wanted for free with the click of a button. Back when we were living in a hotel on the strip, back when there weren’t webcams or camera phones and we had to film with a digital camera and plug it into the laptop to upload it like barbarians. My savvy nature helped us keep up with the changing times, and my legendary status and familiar face kept our early customers from straying. I was a mainstay in hundreds of thousands of horny dudes’ and ladies’ bedrooms every week for the last ten years. I might not perform as much anymore, but I at least had to make an appearance.

  “That it is,” he said, smiling faintly, his gold incisor catching the light off my computer monitor. God, he was fucking shady.

  Then again, so was I. I had to be, though. I was the reason why this business was what it was today. I worked my ass off and showed my ass off to the entire world to get us where we were. He could try and tell me I was easily replaced, that there were much hotter and younger chicks out there who could easily do my job, but in my heart, in my soul, I knew it was always all about me. Sure, these people liked pussy, but they also liked me as a person. Why did he think we were constantly booking big-name porn stars on the show? Why did he think everyone who’d had an appearance on the show went on to do great things with their careers?

  It certainly wasn’t because some sketchy-looking dude with a mustache and a gold chain promised them a life of riches on his dirty director’s couch.

  It’s always been you, I reminded myself, reaffirming the rationale behind my recent indiscretions. One more big show, one more big cash grab, that’s all I needed to blow this joint and move on with my life. I’d been skimming from some of our shadier clients for a long time now after I figured out a pretty slick way of hacking our database. It was never much, a few bucks here and there spread across a whole bunch of prepaid cash cards, but all that added up. I was finally getting paid what I deserved, enough to get me out from under this scumbag and buy myself a quiet chunk of land somewhere in Montana, where I could meet a nice cowboy and live happily ever after, nobody to answer to but my horses and goats.

  There was a pounding on the front door of the apartment, loud enough to startle both of us. “Who the fuck knocks like that?” I asked.

  “It’s probably just one of the boys being stupid,” he said. “I sent Billy out for lunch a little bit ago.”

  “Did you have him get me something?” I asked.

  “You have yogurt in the fridge. And salad. Why the hell do I spend all this money on tummy tucks for you if you’re just going to eat yourself into a coma?” He shook his head at me condescendingly, like I was a total moron. I wasn’t going to miss that look.

  I wasn’t going to miss the yogurt. Or the salad. Or the supplements that made me shake or the laxatives that made me feel like I was going to shit my pants 24/7. As soon as I hit the state line, I was stopping for a cheeseburger the size of my head.

  Harold could kiss my ass. I’d feel bad for my fans for a little bit, but they’d get over it. I’d introduced them to plenty of new chicks to wank off to. Maybe someday, once everything blew over, I’d make a comeback. On my own terms.

  “You gonna answer that?” I asked, the pounding on the door getting louder by the second. “They sound like they’re getting impatient.”

  “Finish up whatever you’re doing and start getting ready,” he said. “I’ll call Leslie and tell her to squeeze you in for a manicure. And an upper lip wax.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

  “Fuck you!” I screamed after him, hoping he heard me.

  Fuck you with a rusty hammer.

  Fuck you with a stick of dynamite.

  Fuck you with a garden hose full of gasoline.

  I was amusing myself with the mental images I was conjuring, but I didn’t have time for that. I had all my valuables tucked into my backpack. I had prepaid bank cards and wads of cash, enough money to live out my days like a queen. I slid my laptop into the bag, zipped it up, and stuffed it under the bed, ready for my great escape tonight.

  Where the fuck is that barking coming from? We don’t have a dog.

  It sounded like some massive beast was wrecking my living room, barking and snarling, and Harold was screaming like a little girl. I cracked the door open, not daring to step outside. Four men dressed in black hoodies and full blown ski masks, men I’d never seen before in my life, were towering over Harold as he laid on the floor, his hands over his face.

  I tried to scan their faces through the tiny crack I left in the door, but nobody looked even remotely familiar. The way they were dressed, they could’ve been anyone’s goons. Anyone with any kind of money had a squad of men who weren’t afraid to fuck somebody up.

  Which reminded me, where in the hell were ours?

  Probably stopped for dessert, because they didn’t have to worry about their figures like I did. Those fuckers.

  “Where is she?” the tallest of the men shouted as he crouched down over Harold, spit flying from his lips. “Where the hell is she?”

  “In the bedroom. Second door to the left,” he said, without hesitation.

  I hope they kill him anyway, just for fun, I thought. I slammed the door behind me, and grabbed my already packed bags. Well this is fucking convenient. It’d always been my natural talent knowing when it was time to call it quits, time to leave, knowing when I’d overstayed my welcome and it was time to move on with my life. I didn’t mind burning bridges to the ground on my way down. This blessing, this foresight, this God-given talent, might have saved my life a couple times in the past. It was definitely going to save my life today.

  I had no idea who these goons were. I had no idea who they worked for or what they wanted from me. Surely nobody would be coming around trying to shake me down over a missing hundred bucks or so. I knew how much a crew like that cost by the hour. It wasn’t cost-efficient. This wasn’t some petty theft shit. This was something more serious.

  What it could possibly be? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that my ass needed to shimmy out the window right now. I left my cell phone laying on the bed and grabbed a sundress from my closet. I’d change as soon as I knew I lost them. A porn star running through the streets in her bathrobe, even in Vegas, was enough to catch somebody’s attention.

  I crept across the yard, slinking down in the bushes of the backyard, trying to get a good feel on the place. If my daddy taught me anything before he died, it was always know your surroundings at all times. If he would’ve practiced what he preached, he might still be around today. I wasn’t blinded by cash or pussy like him though. I had my life savings strapped to my back and there was nobody in this world I wouldn’t throw under the bus right now to protect my own ass, whether they had a pussy or a dick. It was go time.

  I crept through the hedges, crawling around the edge of the fenced-in yard, staying low to the ground. My bathrobe was probably flopping wide open, and I kept getting poked in the eye by twigs. I damn near shit myself when a little bird flew out of the shrubbery right in front of my face. Could’ve been a bullet. I already had my nose reconstructed once before; I didn’t feel like playing that game again.

  Then again, depending on who these guys were, that might be my only option, going full-blown incognito. Shit, I didn’t know what was plastic and what was real on me anymore anyway. Maybe I could find someone to strip me down to my studs, let me go back to being boring old Athena, the kind of chick who wears sweatpants to the grocery store and always has chipped fingernail polish from tearing apart motorcycle engines.

  Definitely no more motorcycle engines, I reminded myself. Never again. I’d lived that life long enough. Burned that bridge to the ground.

  A loud ringtone emanated from my backpack. “Shit,” I stammered, completely forgetting the burner I carried with me. I ducked down low in the bushes. Speak of the damn devil.

  “Mama,” I whispered, “I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you back in a little.”

  “What are you doing? Are you running? Since when do you run? You weren’t answering your regular phone; that’s why I called this one.” Reena never understood the concept of ‘I’m busy.’ My dear mom just assumed it was an excuse to get off the phone with her. Sometimes it was. I looked back and forth before leaping through the shrubs, into the neighbor’s backyard, sprinting as I cradled the phone in my neck.

  “Mama, shit is going down,” I said. “Somebody’s after me.”

  “What did you do?” she asked. I could tell she was puffing away on a cigarette. Probably sitting on the porch swing looking for some gossip as usual. Last I heard, my brother was doing a glorious job of fucking up his life. Why couldn’t she harass him.

  “Why you always assume it’s my fault?” I ducked behind the chaise lounge near the pool, using it as a shield as I tried to see if anyone was following behind me.

  “Is it your fault?” she asked.

  “Probably!” I said. “I gotta go. I gotta grab a cab. I gotta get out of the city.”

  “You can always come home, you know. You still have a bedroom here. I miss having you around.”

  I sighed and shook my head. She really did still think there was a chance I’d move back home after all these years. Truth was, I’d rather turn myself over to the men who were back there looking for me than ever move back to the clubhouse with what was left of the gang.

  “When I get where I’m going, Mom, I promise, you can come live with me. I’ll buy us a big old house in the middle of nowhere, and we can have chickens and horses and whatever you want. You and me, a fresh start.”

  “I can’t leave here, baby. You know that. The club needs me.”

  In the past, we’d fought til I was blue in the face over the fact that the club did not need her. At all. My dad was long dead. All the club life did was take from her. Her freedom. Her sanity. Her dignity. Now that Q-Tip wasn’t around, they didn’t need her anymore. She needed them. She didn’t know what else to do, and she was too brainwashed to listen to her daughter.

  “I gotta go, Mom. I’ll call you back when I get on the road.”

  “Be careful,” she said. “I love you. You’re going to be alright. You always are. My strong girl.” So calm. So collected. Only a bitch who’d seen some shit would be that put together in a situation like this.

  Just like I was.

  “I’ll see you soon, lovebug,” she said, and hung up the phone.

  Wishful thinking, Mom. Nothing in the world was going to make me go back to that life ever again. I’d rather die alone than spend my days and nights constantly worrying about club business, caring deeply about people and watching them die. I’ve seen all kinds of hurt in my day, but loving somebody just to see them ripped away by the choices they make, that’s the worst kind of hurt.

  “Dammit!” I screamed as the wasp nest fell to the ground in front of me, an angry swarm of stingers buzzing around my head. I must not have noticed it hanging off the side of the pool house, and as I shuffled to dig my sundress from my backpack, I must’ve jarred it loose.

  Always be aware of your surroundings, you fucking moron.

  “Dammit!” I shouted again, the first stinger digging into my arm like an angry jolt of electricity. I slapped at it instinctively as another one zapped me in the ankle. I took off like a maniac, sprinting through the yard, my bathrobe flying open as I stumbled over my feet. I couldn’t catch a break today. I’d never been stung before. For all I knew, I was deathly allergic. I’d always had a sneaking suspicious this would be the way I’d go out, tits flapping in the air, running away from something or someone. Today it was both.

  I was manic by the time I hit the front yard, the only thought in my mind waving down the first car I saw and having them take me to the emergency room as a precautionary measure. Knowing my condition, nobody would pick me up, and if they did, straight to the nuthouse for me.

  That ceramic lawn gnome popped up out of nowhere.

  We don’t even have lawns here, I thought as I was going down. Who the fuck has a random gnome laying around?

  My foot caught on it, and I was eating concrete before I could even put my wrist out. This was surely it. Between the wasps and the bad men, my lack of shoes, and my probably broken ankle, I was toast. Even if I did make it out of here alive, surely creepy Harold would find me, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to talk my way out of the backpack full of cash and credit cards I was carrying. I closed my eyes and tried not to laugh through the tears, the ridiculousness of it all, every inch of my body throbbing in pain.

 

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