The idea for this came while I was at a very boring lecture at journalism university ;P

Disclaimer: I don't own Billy Darley or anything from the movie. And it's obvious, but just in case: the Boston Globe has never published this! LOL

The Boston Globe

Sunday- August 22nd, 2010

SPECIAL ARTICLE OF THE WEEK PAGE A3

GETTING IN BED WITH THE GANG

I stared at the blank page before me. I had no idea where to begin, what to include, what to leave out. At the moment I pressed a keyboard key, the memories started rushing though my head.

It was just past 2 pm. I had just gotten back from lunch time. My editor came running down the stairs.

"Kara*!" He yelled.

First thought that went through my head: "what the fuck?". Then the fake smile popped on my face. I had eaten something bad on lunch, I probably was food poisoned. There was no way else to describe the horrible taste I had in my mouth and how awful it felt inside me.

"Yeah, boss?" I faked curiousness. But truth to be said, I couldn't care less. I simply wanted to finish this piece on crappy internet connections and leave to spend the night vomiting in my toilet.

"I have the perfect kick for you!" The way he made his eyes to nearly bolt out of its holes wasn't very nice. He looked like a maniac. The way he said the word kick didn't help either. I would find out latter that I should have kicked myself out of there before he got the chance to drag me into his office, minutes later. But I didn't.

"You're going to write an exposé on the Billy Darley gang."

It wasn't a request.

It was around 10pm, tow hours past my dinner time. My stomach had been empty for the past seven hours. Of course all that food didn't just say there. Now I was standing in this dark parking lot. I had to pay a fortune for the cab driver to leave me here, and he was the third one I had to bribe to bring me here.

It was windy as hell and I only wore a black leather mini skirt, a black top, a rocker-chick kind of belt (which I loved) and black high heels. That aside the micro camera disguised as a necklace, FBI provided- no joke. That was the only way, that I could think of, to get attention to myself. The only way a guy like the one I was looking for would look at me.

I cursed for the 100th time and finally kicked the door in. I couldn't really afford all the loss of time. My wish was to be back to my comfy and lonely one-bedroom apartment by 12am.

I was welcomed by a cloud of smoke. Being a smoker myself, nothing against that. I scanned the room before my eyes. It was just like any crappy bar in any crappy neighborhood, hookers and wannabe gangsters everywhere.

I sat down on a high stool by the bar. The greasy-hair man behind the counter quickly turned his attention to me, apparently the outfit worked perfectly for its propose. After a couple of minutes of chitchat he asked, totally out of the blue:

"¿Es tu la chica que Billy esta a esperar?"

I started at him for a moment. Not only because he spoke in Spanish when we were just talking in English, but also because I had no idea he was expecting someone, let alone a girl. It had to be my cue.

"Sí, soy yo." I answered. Thankfully I had bowed to my parents' will and had taken Spanish classes some time back in my history.

Sammy, the barman, seemed to approve the response. "He's waiting for you back there." He pointed to a back room. Of course there was a back room. I thanked him and walked straight to there.

"Billy! Your babe's here!" Someone shouted.

The thoughts flew around my head and my stomach turned, again. 1- Apparently this Billy person was waiting a special delivery tonight, so it was my sparkle of luck in this miserable night. 2- I hated my boss. He gave me six hours to get ready for this. No one had had luck with uncovering their shit, why would I be the one able to do it in one night? 3- Billy Darley was going to rape me. I was sure of it by the moment he walked in.

There were three men playing pool and two having drinks at the abused table. All of them looked at me when I stepped in. I couldn't read their expressions because their heads snapped to where their leader was. He was just finishing closing his pants zipper, a bottle of beer in hand.

I was expecting the badass look, I had seen his picture way too many times. But I didn't realize he was so tall. The baldness and tattoos weren't news, but his presence was. It filled the room, one could grab it in the air.

He didn't say a thing. Just had a sip of his drink and motioned with his head for me to follow him through the red lit hall he had come from. My intern siren started ringing. I might be looking like a hooker, but I am not one.

Billy threw the deposit door open and walked in. Thankful for my quick reflexes, I held the door before it had a chance to hit my nose.

"I thought you were supposed to wear more fuckin' clothes in a weather like that, get the unwanted attention out of your fuckin' self."

He had a deep hoarse voice, sexy as hell. Then I remembered who he was and what he apparently wanted from me. Right when I recomposed myself he handled me my Pulitzer, disguised in tons of small clear bags with cocaine in it. I couldn't help but smile a bit. He didn't miss it.

"They ain't for you." He warned, more like threatened.

"Oh, I-hm- No, of course not." I answered.

"I thought you weren't supposed to speak English." He frowned and his eyes lit with suspicion.

I froze on the spot. Suddenly I forgot my own name. I cleaned my throat. "Puedo hablar en español, se prefieres."

He barked a laugh. "Whatever."

I didn't understand why he was making a conversation; he didn't look like the chatty type. But I wasn't passing on that.

"You know, I never really did this kind of thing before." I shyly said.

He gave me a malicious smirk. "I didn't ask for a virgin."

"Maybe I wouldn't be if you showed me how it works." I smirked back.

He couldn't hold back a short laugh. "I asked fucking Jesus to explain everything." He said Jesus in Spanish all right. "Have you been skipping fucking classes?"

"No, on those classes I'm a type-A student. But I was too tired to the whole drug thing." I should watch my mouth, I could not speak this much.

"You just walk around and sell these babies to as many fucked ups as you can. The deal is fucking simple: you get 5% out of it, Jesus gets 20% and the rest is mine. Doubts?"

"Oh, so it's a chain…"

"Yeah, and this fucking food chain ends on me." As he said that he got closer to me.

"Can you make a lot of money out of this?"

"Well, I do." He proudly answered. I still had the little bags in my hands. I wasn't wearing anything with pockets, so I started to put them in my bra, trying not to feel self-conscious.

"You think you can fucking do this, lil' virgin?" There was something wrong with his eyes.

I smiled, trying to be charming. I noticed his eyes lingered more on my mouth than really necessary. "I'll be needing more to sell in no time."

"That's good. I like efficiency."

"You haven't had much luck lately?" My tone was casual.

"Sweetie, there are three fucking things I do better than no one else: fuck, guns and drugs." I didn't notice he was so close to me that he was able to whisper that on my ear. In a heart beat I was pressed against the wall by his muscular body.

"You do that to all of Jesus' girls?" His lips were nearly touching mine.

He started kissing the lower part of my neck. "Normally Jesus' girls barely have all teeth. Your arm is clear too. That's what makes me think…", his mouth went up, now just below my ear, "that you are a fucking cop." When he finished his sentence I felt his body pressing mine harder.

I refused to die because I had a dental plan. I had to keep playing this sick game. "I'm no cop. You won't find a badge on me."

Billy grabbed a handful of my hair on the nape of my neck. "I will fucking search." And my belt was thrown on the floor.

I didn't know how to fight. I didn't even have any weapon, for that matter. So I started scanning my mind through the movies I had ever watched all those years. Maybe in one of them the lady was an undercover journalist who was being seduced by the object of her investigation. That's it! I had to investigate. Pretty much nothing else killed the heat of the moment than questioning. Dumb questioning.

"Hm- Mr. Darley?" I tried to push him a bit aback. He did unglue his lips from my skin, but not because I had pushed him. He was extremely amused by my approach. "Hm- I'm not sure we are doing the right thing, I mean, we must be down to business, right?"

He started laughing. He really thought this was funny. And maybe it was, from his point of view.

"This is part of the fucking business." He answered. He hadn't completely stopped laughing yet. Like if it was a joke someone trying not to have sex with him. It was no joke how hard it was to try not to.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Since I can remember." He answered shortly.

"What about those guys back there, they have been in it since they can remember as well?"

"Yeah, and you fucking talk too much." He wasn't amused anymore. This man was so weird! His humor could change in a blink of an eye. He went down and brought my skirt with him. Good thing I had waxed. Oh, my God! I can't believe that crossed my mind in a moment like that. I had to find out more. No, I guess already had enough. I needed to get out.

His lips started kissing around my ankle and made their way up. An ice cold chill went down my spine. At this moment I couldn't tell if it was out of fear or pleasure. I was nearly pissing in my panties out of fear. If I managed to get away from this guy, there were five more outside for me to get past to. But even in those conditions, I must admit he knew what he was doing. Apparently he wasn't really bullshitting about being the best on those three things.

He was doing his magic on my belly now and I still hadn't figured out a way to stop. He was shirtless. The tattoo was much bigger than I had seen in the archive pictures or in the criminal records. It went from one wrist to the other, curling around his neck and part of his well built chest. It was just too easy to let him keep on. He could be blindfolded and would probably still be able to keep me in this.

Then all the hell broke loose. It seemed like there was some sort of huge fight going on in the bar's front room. The gun shot got Billy's attention. He moved fast. By the time I realized what happened he was already by the door, gun in hand.

I thanked the distraction. I hurried to put my skirt back on and I ran, leaving my beloved belt behind. Billy wasn't paying attention to me anymore. I ran for my life, because now I was terrified. I spotted a back door on the deposit. I prayed for it to be open and to lead to the street. It was and it did.

It had gotten colder outside, but I didn't notice at first. I was at a very dark street and I knew I wouldn't be able to find a cab nearby. So I kept running. Blisters formed on my feet and were exploded by the sandal's straps, the very same ones that made them appear in the first place.

I could hear screaming tires and more gun shots behind me. I tried to keep myself hidden in the shadows.

Eventually I made it to the highway. Who would give a ride to a hooker who looked desperate? Someone did. It was an old man. When I saw that, I thought he was a pervert bastard, but then I noticed his kind eyes. Plus, in the position I was in, I couldn't ask for much. He said he stopped because I looked like his daughter who had moved to Japan twenty years ago to pursue a model career and never came back. The only thing he knew about her was that she wasn't a model.

When he asked me what I was doing, I said I had gotten into trouble in a bar. He very shyly asked if I were a "woman of the life". I answered negatively and explained I was dressed up like this because I wanted to impress my boyfriend, but he got violent. Then he asked if he should drive me to the police station. I said I would go there in the morning, now all I needed was to shower and to sleep. He told me stories about his dead wife while he drove all the way to my apartment. I gave him a tight hug before getting out of the car. When I looked back I saw a fresh tear trail reflecting the dashboard's light.

I went up the stairs and locked the door after I got into my place. I was home. I cried my eyes out, because the adrenaline was wearing off. I needed to act fast. I thought of that man's daughter. Someone had to have made the same offer to her that Jesus did to his girls. For this old kind man I had to write the article of my life and expose what was going on into Boston's shadows. If you are reading this sir, know that you probably saved my life and I hope this article will save the life of many girls like your daughter.

I don't know how much of what I wrote will be published. I hope they publish it all. Billy Darley and everyone that I recorded with the hidden camera, plus the ones he mentioned, will be in jail before this paper hits the stands.

It's 4am now. I woke up my editor one hour ago and told him everything that happened. As I wrap this, the cops are working on changing my name, my address and my life. I guess that's the price you pay for trying to get in bed with the gang. They make you lose your life, whether you are alive or not.

*This is a special gonzo article written exclusively for The Boston Globe. The name of the reporter was changed due protection and legal reasons.