A/N: Here's the first chapter (obviously). It's more of a prologue than anything else. Hope you enjoy.
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The club Pleasures is in an old two-story warehouse known for its amazing selection in liquor. In fact that's all it's really known for. In comparison to all the other glamorous clubs in New York, Pleasures has little to offer. The second floor - made into a long balcony - overlooks the dance floor that only had a few people drunkenly dancing on it. The long bar with a million different drinks behind it stood in the back of the club, where the rest of the people sat.
And I'm the idiot behind the counter serving them.
Yes, I work here. It's a funny story how I became a bar tender but one I won't go into. All that matters is I'm stuck in a warehouse filled with drunk men slobbering on my bar.
"Hey! Mr.! Another Mojito!"
I turn to the man who yelled the order and cross my arms.
"For the last time I'm a woman. WOMAN! I don't even look manly, for God sakes! If you can't get that right, I'm not making you your stupid 'mojito'."
"Did I ask for a lecture? Where's my damn drink!"
I squint my eyes and quietly imagine how satisfying it would be to strangle him. He glares back, and mouths the word, "MOJITO".
I purse my lips and march to the large shelves of liquor behind me, and begin grabbing the bottles for a mojito. My fat co-worker Tim walks over to me from the other side of the bar and leans against the counter with a heavy sigh.
"Another busy night."
I roll my eyes, and slide the mojito to the man. "Hardly,"
Tim smiles and stands straight, before patting me on the shoulder. "What do you say to closing early tonight?"
I look over to him and grin. "That would be amazing."
He nods, and walks away. Tim was fat, but in a happy Santa Clause way - if Santa was a biker. Tim had rosy cheeks, but a thick scraggily black beard; he had a jolly laugh, but when he smiled he showed his crooked yellowed teeth. He stood at a tall 6'4", but he was probably the nicest biker you could meet. I've always imagined his as a Santa gone wrong.
The door to the club opens to a scruffy man in a trench coat, because apparently he enjoyed looking sketchy. He stumbles in and takes a seat at the end of the bar. Unlike all the other drunkards who come in, this man didn't bother ordering a drink as soon he came in, or try to get my attention. He simply sat down with a heavy sigh, and hung his head.
I slowly walk over, drying my hands on the black apron tied around my waste and say, "I'm sorry sir, we're closing."
He doesn't reply but reaches into his coat and pulls out a paper bill and slides it across the counter. I look down to see it's a 50. My eyes widen hungrily as I take up the bill, and ask, "What can I get you."
"Gin and tonic." He says. "Keep the change."
His voice is raspy and low, like he had been yelling a lot, or was a chain smoker. Either scenario worked. I pocket the bill happily and quickly make his drink and slide it over to him.
I turn to begin cleaning up when the man begins to speak.
"It's a dangerous place out there."
It's a story I've heard a million times – all about tax evasion, or ex-wives – but despite myself I'm lured to the man. His voice, with all its gruffness, had a way to make me feel like a child that was about to hear an exciting story.
"They hunt without sympathy, without any regard to what they're doing. It will be the death of us all."
"The police?" I ask stupidly.
A crocked smile spreads across the man's face briefly, before he drank his gin and tonic. "There are things that are more dangerous than the police."
I rack my brain for something worse than the police, and blurt out the first thing that pops up.
"A gang?" I suggest.
Again he smiles briefly. "You're creativity is clearly vivid."
I frown at his blatant sarcasm and loose interest in what ever it is he was getting at. I had better thing to do than to be insulted by someone who'd obviously visited other bars before this one. I turn away but a tight grip clamps around my forearm. I try to wrench away my arm from the man's tight grip but he just held tighter.
"Sir, let go." I snap.
"They look just like us. You've probably seen one and never known! You must be wary. Constant vigilance!"
I pull my arm away and march to the other end of the counter where Tim is standing and quickly say, "Now, I think, would be a great time to close."
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I stack the last of the chairs onto a table, and sigh happily. Done. I check my watch excited to see it is only 1 a.m. Not too late, considering the job I'm in. I hurry down stairs to find Tim finishing up his section.
"All good upstairs?" he asks.
I nod happily. We head to the back room, where we store the supplies and have our breaks, to the back where the employee entrance is. Tim pulls out the keys and opens it for me. I walk out into the cool night breathing the sweet air deeply. Tim shuts the door behind us, and locks it up.
"Have a good night, Andrea." Tim says, as he heads south.
"Same to you."
I slip on my thin pea coat and head north into the semi-crowded street. The streets are always busy, no matter what time it is. That's what amazes me about New York. It could 5 in the morning and there is traffic. I quickly walk through the light foot traffic, heading toward the closest subway entrance that will take me home.
As I weave along someone bumps into me with such force it knocks me over. A hand snatches my arm and pulls me back onto my feet just before I smack into the cement. Before I can react to anything I'm back on my feet. I gawk like an idiot as I stare into a face just as stunned as mine. The man who had saved me was gripping my arms tightly, but his grey eyes were wide and dumbfounded. He quickly composes himself and lets go of me, though he seems to do it reluctantly.
"Sorry about that," he says.
"It's fine. Thanks for catching me."
I give a quick smile and hurry pass him to the subway entrance a few feet away, trying to figure out what just happened.
I hurry down to the north trains that will take me to my apartment. To my relief there's still a good number of people heading home, most of which didn't seem to fall into the categories of mobster, serial killer, hit man, prostitute, hobo, or child molester.
The train pulls in, and screeches to a halt. The iron doors squeal open, letting everyone pile in. I take a compartment that isn't as full, not feeling the urge to be near people. The train finally lurches back into motion, sending us into the dark tunnels. I lean against the pole I am holding, trying to force my eyelids not to droop. The train starts slowing as it reaches the next station, the doors creaking open for a few people to walk in and find seats. As the train lurches back into motion, I start looking at the other people in the compartment to keep myself awake.
There is an older black woman with wild grey hair she tried to maintain with a flowered handkerchief. She was wide, with large bosoms that she was currently using as a pillow. Near her is a group of young teens that are huddled together around a magazine and giggling profusely. Sitting near them is a middle-aged man who's eyeing the teens with annoyance. He has large horn rimmed glasses that are jiggling from the train's vibrations.
As I turn my head I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dark train window. My slender body is covered in my work outfit – a green tee that says Pleasures and jeans. My golden hair that normally sweeps to the middle of my back is tied up in a high ponytail. The only thing unique to my face are my peridot eyes, noticeable even in the dark reflection.
I look away from the window to the last person in the cabin. To my surprise it is the same guy who I collided with on the street. He was looking in the other direction, allowing me to stare without having to be discreet.
He was nothing short of gorgeous: tall, lanky with black untidy hair. He was dressed in all black, but in a classy sort of way, like he's heading for an important occasion. A small smirk spreads across his lips as his eyes flicker toward me. It happened so quickly I wasn't sure he even looked at me, but I look away anyways. As the train begins to slow he lifts his head and stares directly at me without blinking. I try to ignore him but it was difficult. Even from a side-glance his beauty was noticeable.
When the train stops he stands up and winks at me as he passes through the doors. I stand rigidly, gripping the pole so tightly my knuckles are white before realizing this is my stop and running out of the cabin seconds before the doors snap shut.
The platform is empty of anyone else. The mystery man had disappeared in those few seconds. I sigh and head up the stairs to the cool street above, ready to soak in a bubble bath and curl up with a good book. My apartment is a block away on the other side of the street. I quickly skip across the street, having to dodge a Mazda 6 that was going way too fast (not forgetting to yell several profanities at it), to by apartment building. I walk in to see night staff at the main counter. The man smiles at me as I wave quickly, before heading to the winding stairs to the third floor.
I fumble for my keys as I reach the platform for the third floor. I pull them out and look up to stop in mid step. My floor was in complete darkness, except for two weak florescent lights at the other end of the corridor. Shit…
I breathe in heavily and let it out slowly. Ok, no need to panic. I may be afraid of complete darkness, but I live here… no problem. Just calm down, Drea. It's not like there's a crazy ax-murdered waiting for me.
My stomach flips at the thought of a man in a hokey mask at the other end of the hall. Ok, wrong thing to think.
I take a deep breath and begin to walk quickly down the hall, trying to keep my hysteria in check. As I near the first flickering light a chill crawls up my spine. I glance over my shoulder as I pass under the small halo of light and immediately regret it. At the end of the hall where I'd been a minute before stood the man I'd run into, his grey eyes illuminated in the darkness. He was standing rigidly, his hands in his pockets, his eyes locked onto me. He began to walk forward with large strides, his eyes fixed on me.
I stumble backwards in horror as my shoes snag on the carpet. His pace grew faster while a cruel smirk began spread across his lips. There was something unnatural about him. His movement was too fluid, his eyes too bright.
I begin to half run to my door just a few feet away, desperate to get into my apartment. I frantically try to shove my key into the lock but my hands are trembling so badly I can't get it in. I look over my shoulder to see him just a few yards away. I whirl back to the door and jam the key in and turn it. I turn the door handle and glance back but he is gone. He'd completely disappeared. Goosebumps were spreading all over my body, while the hairs of the back of my necks prickled as the image of him holding an ax popped into my head.
I hesitated at my door, wanting to just run inside and bolt the door but also needing to know where he went. The seconds dragged by and my fear only spiked. I gripped the handle and turned it but the door wouldn't move.
My heart began to race as I saw a slender white hand next to mine pressed against the door to keep it from opening. I slowly look up to see a white face smiling back at me, his face inches from mine.
I gasp and drop my bag hoping that's all he wants. But his smirk just gets larger, making my hysteria boil over. I fumble with the door handle trying to open it but the man kept his hand there. The door didn't budge.
I try backing away but his other arm quickly boxes me in against the door. As he starts to lean closer I do the only think I can think of. My hand flies up, but just as quickly his hand grips my wrist just before it would have hit his nose. His smile widens. He shook his head and made a tisk-tisk noise.
"Now why did you try to do that?" He whispers, his voice sultry and melodic.
His other hand grasps my free hand to prevent me from any kind of escape. Though he hardly needed to, my legs were frozen from fear, and if my heart beating so hard wasn't about to kill me, he sure was.
He leans into the nape of my neck and inhales deeply. My heart only beats faster as the idea of a psycho killer adds to my fear. He pulls away from my neck to look into my eyes, our faces just inches away. If I wasn't so scared his eyes might have mesmerized me. They weren't grey like I had thought, but a brilliant bright blue flecked with white. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped and whirled to our left just as my neighbor's door opened.
He took a large step backward, winked, then disappeared into the darkness. It took me three seconds to be in my apartment with all four locks bolted on the door. My heart felt like it was about to explode out of my chest. I leaned against my door and slowly slid onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. It was several minutes before I could feel my legs again, and my heart to beat at a normal pace.
I took a deep breath and pushed myself off the floor, double-checking the door was locked, before walking into me room and falling onto my bed.
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The next morning made the previous night seem like nothing but an awful nightmare. In fact, I seriously wondered if it was nothing but just that. I take a quick shower and get dressed, checking my watch to see it's just ten in the morning. I walk to my front door, unbolt it, and lean out to grab the newspaper.
"Miss! Miss!"
To my horror I look up to see men in uniforms crowded in the narrow hallway. Police tape bordered my neighbor's doorframe. Two men in nice black suits walk briskly up to me, both with clipboards in their hands.
"What's going on?" I ask.
"Did you know Frank Michaels, miss?"
"Yes, I do. I mean only because he's my neighbor. I've said hi to him a few times but-"
"Did you happen to talk to him, or see him recently?"
I thought of the night before, with the man at my door and Frank walking out and my heart plummets.
"I haven't," I lie. "Is he alright?"
"He's dead."
I try to keep my face composed as my heart stops beating. The men make some notes on their clipboards, study me carefully, then made a few more. One of them pulls out a police badge from inside his suit and waves it under my nose – like I didn't know already.
"You are Andreasme Ing-?" one asks.
"Yes, yes, that's me." I cut in, not really wanting him to say my full name.
They stare at me quizzically before saying, "Thank you for your time Ms. Carrow. If we have any other questions, we'll call."
I nod and close the door. As soon as its shut I bolt to my phone and speed dial Judy. The phone rings three times before I hear Judy's voice on the other line.
"Judy! What are you doing right now?" I half yell.
"Well I'm about to go-"
"How long until you have to go to work?"
"Uh… two hours. Why? Drea, what's wrong?"
"I'll explain everything. I'll meet you at the Coffee House in a half an hour, 'Kay?"
"Alright," Just says slowly.
I hang up before she asks anything else. I walk back to my door and peer out the peephole. Several men in uniforms were close to my door, inspecting the carpet, the doors, the ceiling.
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I got to the Coffee House in ten minutes. My anxiety didn't feel like waiting around my apartment while the black suited men wandered on my floor questioning anyone who stepped out of their rooms.
Charlie's Coffee House is a small café a few minutes away from Jody and my apartments. As usual when I walk in there's a small line at the counter where people in business outfits are getting coffee to go. I wind myself through the surplus of squashy armchairs to an empty table near the back that faced the window.
Jody walks in a few minutes later, probably guessing I wouldn't have waited. She spots me in the back and weaves her way over to the chair opposite me. Jody is short but makes up for the size with crazy curly black hair. Everything about her is round, especially her face; her brown eyes are large and round, her lips pout, even her ears are perfectly circular. Today she seemed completely frazzled. Her wild, curly hair was flying everywhere, like she rolled out of bed and came straight here. Then I realized with a twinge of guilt, she probably had.
"Alright, what's wrong?" she sighed heavily, falling into a chair.
"You look awful, Jody. Do you want some coffee or-"
"No, Drea, just tell me what is wrong." Her eyes had large black circles under them, like she'd been awake for days. I opened my mouth to ask her but decided against it. I'll ask her later.
"Jody, last night this man followed me home." I started. She raised her eyebrows in surprise as I retold what happened. Jody didn't ask any questions as I talked, only keeping her eyebrows raised in concern.
"And this morning Frank was dead!" I finish. "Jody, I think that was supposed to be me."
Jody sighs and slumps back onto her chair. She closed her eyes and scrunched her forehead in thought.
"He didn't do anything to you?" she asked.
I shake my head. "He just smelled my hair. I'm telling you he was psycho!"
Jody nodded her head in agreement. "I don't know what to tell you Drea, except go buy some Pepper Spray."
"This is serious, Jod!"
"I know, I know. I really think you should have told the police." She checked her watch and sighed again. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have to pick up some things for my boss before I go in today. But please, Andrea, don't do anything rash, okay?"
"Fine, but-"
Jody stood up and shook her head. "You'll be safe at work. Just be careful tonight. Get a taxi, instead." She checked her watch again and frowned. "I'm sorry. Be safe, okay?"
She hurried out of the café, leaving me to think about what to do now. I definitely couldn't go back to my apartment. There were police crawling all over my floor, and that was the last thing I needed reminding of. I look at my watch. It's only 11:30. I still have an hour before work. There was only one thing I could do.
I stand up and hurry out of the café toward the nearest Outlet store. Time to buy some Pepper Spray.
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A/N: That's it. Please review so I know how you liked it.