I get there first.
Marco drugged me, threw me in a cage, and left me to his humans. He dies and not just by Griffin’s hands, I want in on that. I look down at myself and frown, and I doubt they would let me into the club like this. I look like I’ve been part of a serial killer movie. My dress is torn and covered in...well, I don’t even know at this point. I don’t know if Nos will be back at the hotel and I don’t want to head back to grab my stuff if they are investigating the body I left behind. I really need to come up with a safe place to store my things.
Looks like dress shopping it is. Then Marco. Then Nos. Then I might sleep for a week. It has been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. Killing people really takes a lot out of you. I need to be quick so I speed up and pick the closest shop I can find. Pulling up outside the darkened shop I frown again—oh yeah, it’s the middle of the night.
Pocketing the money I swiped from the doctor, I step out and lock the car before looking around to make sure no one is around. It’s quiet but it soon won’t be. I stride to the shop like I own it, and yank the handle. It snaps and I open the door, freezing in case an alarm goes off. Thank fuck to whatever gods are up there that it doesn’t, unless it’s a silent one. Rushing inside, I scan the row of clothes before I find a long red number. I grab my size, get undressed, and shimmy into it. Satisfied it fits, I grab my balled up dress and shove it in the trash can under the cash register. It’s only a small shop, obviously independently owned, and it makes me feel a tad bad about breaking in.
Oh well. Leaving the wad of cash that will cover the dress and more, I saunter out and quickly slide into my stolen BMW. I lean towards the console in the middle and search for the club on the sat nav. It finds it easily and I press go before reversing into the street and speeding away from the scene of my crime.
I guess I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I have too much to worry about without the toll on my soul for stealing, plus I think that ship has long since sailed with my killings. I am morally iffy, that’s for fucking sure, but I hope I get points for killing bad guys.
As I drive down the road The Clubhouse is on, I search for somewhere to park. When I don’t spot any, I pull up at the side of the road, leave the keys inside, and saunter away. Serves the asshole right, he’s probably dead about now anyway, but knowing he will be fined for illegal parking makes me feel good, petty, but good.
The Clubhouse is nothing like I expected. From the name, I kept imagining a biker bar type of deal, but I should have figured, knowing Marco, it would have been the complete opposite. In neon lights, above a large building, the sign proudly declares ‘The Clubhouse.’
A queue spreads around the block, where chattering and half-drunk club goers are waiting to get into what looks like an exclusive club. Two bouncers frame the blood-red doors, watching everything with hawk-like eyes.
My shoulders back and my head held high, I strut up to the bouncers and arch my eyebrow as they hold their arms out to block the door.
The big guy on the left grins at me while the one on the right narrows his eyes, jerking his head to the queue.
“Don’t think so pumpkin, I’m here to see Marco and we all know he doesn’t like being kept waiting.” I tap my foot impatiently and stare him down.
Eventually he nods, and both step backs I open the door and slip inside, blowing out a relieved breath that I didn’t have to kill them or something to get inside.
“Coat?” comes a dull, female voice. I turn my head and spot the bored-looking, middle-aged woman in a red vest manning a coat booth.
Smirking, I gesture at my floor-length, deeply cut red dress. “Honey, with a dress like this you don’t cover it up with a coat.” I wink and walk away.
The hallway opens up at the end and under my feet I feel