I'm so sorry for not having this up earlier...I'm just starting to get into my summer writing routine and getting back into writing longer chapters is hard. Now that I got this out of the way I should be able to put out chapters regularly. Please enjoy this one, because it took a week to write. PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! IT MEANS A LOT!
After hours of being asleep, a very tired Zimos lifted his sunglasses up and rubbed the bridge of his aching nose. The events from the night before flooded back into his memory as he sat up to survey the room around him. His jacket was covered with small patches of blood, which had healed over the long hours he had been knocked out. From what he could tell, he was in one of the specialty rooms at Safeword. Hesitantly, he stood up and grabbed his golden microphone cane that was lying near him and ventured out of his room. Other Saints were congregated everywhere around him, which could only mean one thing: the Boss was alive and the DeWynter sisters had been robbed of their premiere strip club.
A smirk made its way onto the old pimp's face when he spotted a small bunch of newly freed hos climbing up the stairs. Clad in new purple outfits, they struggled with their stilettos and giggled loudly while they got closer to him. The group of girls looked up at their new pimp, who was currently leaning against the doorframe of his temporary room. He tipped his hat and signaled for them to come over. They greatly obliged and hooked onto his arm. Just as they began to saunter into his room, a deep chuckle came from a few feet away from the door. The girls stopped sniggering and looked up to see who had caused the disturbance.
"You don't wait too long to get to know the new girls, do you?" she asked. A sly grin was spread across the Boss' face as she looked at the scene in front of her. The new girls couldn't be more than twenty one and were literally hanging off the older man's arm like slaves. The arrangement would have sickened most sane people. Liz shrugged the situation off. It was a position she had been all too familiar with when she had been even younger than them. The job might have been disgraceful, but it certainly paid all of her expenses.
"Gotta warm them up a little." he replied. The tall woman looked over her friend and saw the stains covering his jacket. She had already cleaned up her own wounds in the public restroom on the first floor, which was yet another Safeword experience that she hoped to forget.
The girls in front of her tittered nervously and excitedly as their new boss began to enter the bedroom behind him. He gave the leader a quick wink before closing and locking the door. Liz turned on her heel and made her way to the stairs; hearing Zimos get down to business was the last thing she would want to hear. Despite her chipper mood, her head was throbbing from the loud sounds from the crowds of people around her. Loud electronica had also begun playing around her again, and the strippers soon got back to their handiwork. Crowds of Saints all around her nodded their heads or tipped their sideways baseballs caps while she strode down the stairs. She nodded back at them and headed towards the main lobby. Recovering from the night before would be easy if she could just crash at the penthouse and pop a few pills and drink a quarter keg. Smiling, she opened the wide double doors and let sunlight cascade onto her light skin. For a short moment, she closed her eyes and enjoyed another rare moment of relaxation. As usual, it was short lived.
A familiar set of hands landed harshly on her shoulder and shook her. Liz opened her eyes and glared at the woman in front of her.
"The fuck are you doing?" she growled. Her eyes readjusted, allowing her to see that a very affronted Shaundi was standing in front of her. The lieutenant's manicured nails had moved and were now resting firmly on her hips.
"You had me worried sick!" she hissed. "Why weren't you answering your damn phone?"
Liz raised an eyebrow at her friend's pressuring questions. Today was supposed to ne Shaundi's day off; why she had come here was unfathomable to her. Never before had she freaked out when she couldn't get in contact with any of the other Saints before.
"Maybe it's because she's not stoned all the time now…I don't remember her being so fuckin' anxious back in Stilwater." she thought to herself. Shaundi's glare pierced through her thoughts and commanded attention.
"What are you doing just standing around, aren't you hurt or something? If you're not, we need to get the ball rolling and start getting on the Syndicate more." she continued.
Liz took a step towards her lieutenant with a heated look on her face. No other Saint had spoken to her like that in years. If anything, it sounded like something Julius would have said to her back in Stilwater. With their inches faces apart, she could smell the perfume radiating off of the other woman. They were still locked in a tight death stare; neither of them looked willing to turn away until the other said something.
Shaundi stepped a few inches back and crossed her arms, awaiting a response. With a sigh, the Boss leaned back and took a cigarette out of her pocket.
"Watch your damn mouth, you know how it can get you into trouble." she answered coolly. Liz brought the rolled tobacco to her lips and fished through her pockets for her lighter. "I didn't see your ass in there last night helping me clear out that whole shithole."
The other woman clenched her fists and looked the Boss over. She did look like she had taken a decent beating the night before, which she would give her credit for. Busting into a BDSM club wasn't exactly her style, nor would she have wanted to do it if Liz had asked her to. Cigarette smoke billowed into her face and filled her lungs graciously. A sigh escaped her mouth as she took out her phone from her pocket.
"Whatever, I was just concerned." she said reluctantly. Even she wasn't completely sure why she had reacted the way she did. "The last thing the Saints need is for you to end up like Johnny. You sure you don't want the boys doing things like this for us?"
"I can't do things myself anymore?" she asked rhetorically. Shaundi opened her mouth to reply, but was rapidly cut off.
"You really think I'm gonna turn into one of those bosses that doesn't do shit? I call my boys when I really need them, and puttin' them in danger is the last thing I want to do." she said. "It was just another close call, Shaundi. You don't need to worry."
"Just a close call?" the shorter woman asked. Her tone was semi-sarcastic, but also very serious. "Just be more careful, alright?"
Shaundi turned on her heel and began to stride back to her car. Without hesitation, Liz followed behind her. Leaving on bad terms with her number one girl was going to come back to bite her if the issue wasn't resolved. Shaundi's bright purple pumps clicked on the asphalt in unison with Liz's as she went to open the door to her Torch. A hand gently touched her right shoulder as soon as the door opened. She turned her head slightly and saw her pursuer.
"What?"
"Thanks for being concerned." Liz said with a devious smile. "I didn't see Pierce hauling his ass out here this morning." She took a drag on her cigarette and threw it onto the pavement. After smashing it with her stiletto heel, she looked back up at her friend. She had gotten back into her car and was about ready to drive off.
"I do what I can."
The car roared to life in a matter of seconds. "I gotta go read my next show script, we'll catch up later." Within a minute, the vehicle had sped away, and Liz was heading to her own car and dreaming about the quarter keg that was waiting back at the penthouse.
"You sure you wanna go after that son of a bitch?" Johnny asked. He glanced over at the Boss, who was sitting next to him at the Purgatory's infamous bar. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.
"What else can we do? He's the only one standing in our way." Liz sipped on her nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels and gave Gat an indifferent look.
"But do you really wanna go yourself?"
The woman gave him a stern look and threw her head back to finish off the bottle.
"I gotta do this for Carlos. What happened to him won't happen to any of my boys ever again." she muttered. She launched the bottle behind the bar and they both heard it collide into a million pieces on the ground. Sorrow and anger dripped from her voice whenever she talked about Carlos; even Johnny was able to see it.
He was never able to decipher the relationship between the Boss and the former lieutenant. They had something that he knew he had never possessed with Liz. Carlos was more of a younger brother; he was inferior, younger, but very passionate. Following in the Boss' footsteps also seemed to be something he aspired to do. Johnny thought of himself for a moment. He didn't fit any of the traits that Carlos had. He was older, strong, cocky, and a damn good gangbanger if he had anything to say about it. He hadn't been jealous of the younger man, but the way the Boss would baby him made her look so absurdly out of character. Sympathy hadn't been one of her strong points.
However, Carlos was different.
"Hey, if you need backup, you know who to call." he said with a half smile. Liz stood up and stretched before leaning up against the bar.
"Of course, I'll just call Shaundi." she teased. Johnny stood up and punched her shoulder.
"You're kidding, right? The girl can't even shoot five feet in front of her face!"
"Yeah, I am kidding." She punched his shoulder back and headed towards the double staircase. "She's got a better shot than you'd think."
"Whatever you say, Boss."
Saints that regularly inhabited the penthouse headquarters had gotten used to the shenanigans that usually went on there. Since it was the Boss' main residence, things tended to get hectic very fast. Although she was no party animal, she tried her best to encourage enthusiasm throughout the day. Whether it was loud parties or endless drinking games, most of the Saints were nearly up for anything. It was expected that one loud incident was likely to occur at least once a day in the headquarters. With that many crazy people in one place, it was bound to happen.
Today was a little different.
The second floor of the penthouse had been dead quiet the whole entire morning. The rest of the Saints had heard of the incident the night before and had also seen Liz carry up a leftover keg from a recent party. Some had also sworn they saw a bag of weed or some pills. Small whispers came from the gangbangers hanging out on the main floor, but nobody had the nerve to go and knock on their boss' door.
Despite their fears, the situation going on inside was much different than what they expected.
A half empty pill bottle and a totally empty keg of beer were one of the many things littering Liz's floor. A few shattered glasses, well read magazines, and a remote were lingering on the dirty wood floor as well. An old rerun of Nyte Blayde droned on the television as Liz felt the beginning of a hangover droop over her already hurting body. It was late afternoon now, and her stomach was lurching in her body. Truthfully, she was starving, but the thought of eventually heaving it up made her quiver in her seat. "I've fought so hard... lost so much. Is it wrong to want to be happy? Grr, get a hold of yourself Nyte Blayde! You're a vampire - there's no room for love in your world! I am Nyte Blayde!"
The obnoxious voice of Josh Burke continuously blared through the flat screen, making Liz's thought of taking more ibuprofen more appealing. She hadn't counted the amount of tablets she had taken; based on her previous experiences it was enough to keep her dizzy. A small bag of weed sat on her nightstand along with a lighter and an empty glass. It also appealed to her more than the idea of fishing around for the remote, which was lying somewhere on the messy floor.
She sighed heavily and tried her best to block all electronics out of her thoughts. After what had happened the night before, she couldn't help but wonder what would become of her gang. The Morningstar had put up a fight that could give the Saints a run for their money. One wrong move on her part could send them tumbling back to Stilwater.
Pushing the image out of her head, she finally reflected on her accomplishment that previous night. A major stronghold was now her territory. A smile crept its way onto her face, and she leaned back against her bed frame.
"Things'll work out…" she mumbled to herself. As she reached over to her nightstand to grab her lighter, a badgering combination of ringing and vibrating was coming from her phone. In a huff, she grabbed it as slowly as she could and answered it.
"What?" she barked. A familiar melodic voice could be heard on the other side of the line.
"Relax, baby. I've got some new shit for us to take care of." Zimos explained. Liz rolled her eyes and nearly crushed the dinky phone in her hand.
"You're nearly dead and you're already looking for more shit to do? You sound like me." she said, half jokingly.
"C'mon, I'm not playin'. Why don't we just kick the Morningstar's asses already?"
Liz nearly smiled at his eagerness. "What are we going to do, shoot at them until they leave?"
"That was I was thinking." he replied.
"That's not much of a plan…but I can go with it."
Knowing that she would have to get out of bed, she gently maneuvered herself onto her feet and went to the television to turn off the vile program that was still playing. Before she could wrap up her conversation with Zimos, another person beeped in to the conversation.
"Shit…hang on, Z." She pushed the talk button again and answered her next caller.
"What?" she asked.
"If you want some intel on the Morningstar, go to the docks. They're getting a fresh shipment of girls at the end of the hour." the voice said. The familiarity of the woman's voice shocked Liz; who was this person, and why would she give the Saints this kind of info without being affiliated with them?
"Thanks for the business tip, sweetie, but who the hell are you?" she said snarkly. The woman on the other end scoffed loudly.
"Viola DeWynter."
Being able to identify a face with a name caused blood to surge through Liz's veins. Viola DeWynter: the businesswoman who was her competition and the whore that killed her friend. Why she would be giving intel to the Saints would puzzle anyone.
"Is this a fucking trap?" Liz growled.
"Why don't you go see for yourself?" she answered. The Morningstar member hung up unexpectedly, and making a proper choice on whether or not to take the intel seemed to be impossible.
Considering the Boss' history with boats and the artillery she currently had on hand, she made a hasty decision.
It was time to go to the docks.