How high was he? She had to figure he was pretty loaded to actually be going off with a bunch of tramps where she was definitely able to see him. One of the VIP rooms always had free flowing alcohol and drugs, and from the daze Randy walked in, Trish could only guess that he'd had his fair share of X before the sluts of the night made their move.
She dropped down and thrust her back to the bars. She saw Chyna guiding Stacy towards the back and figured that the drugs would stop being passed, soon. While Trish was sure Stacy knew what went on back there, Ric insisted that it wasn't put so blatantly in her face. Trish could barely believe somebody so innocent had been spawned by Ric Flair.
Trish jumped up and gripped the wooden perch above. She pulled herself up, then split her legs. She slid onto the perch, a leg on either side, then turned upside down. The perch twirled and she swung herself up to sit along the bar, her hands holding the sides. She swung back and forth, her mind on Randy.
Was he really that stupid? She certainly hoped not. As firm as she was on her rule against cheating, she would really hate to have to break up with him. She wasn't the type that needed a man, but she liked to have one around. More than that, she liked having Randy around. In some ways... the passion of the relationship, the attention he gave her... she was reminded of her time with Christian. And yet, she was pretty sure that this was something more than what she had with Christian. She couldn't give a name to her relationship with Randy. She just knew that she liked it.
But, if he were going to casually go around chasing tramps, she would just have to live without him. She was sure that she could, especially seeing that he had nothing to do with her job. Hunter had hired her, and being the most popular of the dancers, he wasn't going to fire her just because she broke up with Randy. She would still have her money. She'd still have her condo. She'd still have her free pass to the VIP room for an occasional high.
"Trish!" She turned her head down to the Korean woman yelling up at her. "Hunter says you're out!"
"What?" Trish jumped down and groaned. "I've only been in here a couple of hours, Gail. I'm here 'til close."
"Yeah, well... Hunter said you're out and I'm in. Says you need a break."
"Uh huh." She opened the door and slid out of the cage. "What else did he say?"
"Go get Randy. He went out back to do something that Hunter won't say." Gail Kim climbed up into the cage and slammed the door. "All he said was Randy was fuckin' stoned out of his mind."
"Figures." Trish groaned and ran her hands through her hair. "I'll be back to break you in a couple of hours."
Gail nodded at her and Trish walked off. She didn't know what Hunter's game was, but knowing him, it wasn't nearly as humanitarian as he wanted Gail to think. He was probably just trying to get in her pants. Too bad being nice to her wasn't the way to do it, or at least that's what Trish had heard.
She wondered, as she pushed her way through the crowd, if Hunter had a plan to break them up. He had to know that she would dump him if she found his dick in some random bitch's mouth. Or maybe he just wanted to prove her wrong. She wouldn't put it past any of them, except maybe Dave, to make a bet on whether or not she'd really dump Randy. If she saw him doing what she thought he was doing, drugged out or not, the money would go to whomever figured she'd drop him right on the spot.
Trish shoved the door hard and stalked out. "Randy!" She looked around in the darkness, but didn't see anything. It was the night of the new moon, and the only light afforded her came from lamps perched feet apart atop the building. "Randy!"
He didn't answer her and she walked down the side of the building. She alternated between light and dark, her ears perked up for the sounds of drunken sex. Trish heard something and moved forward. "Randy?" She called out, but for some reason, her voice wasn't quite as loud. She heard a groan, and it didn't sound like sex. She wasn't sure what it sounded like, but it wasn't one of ecstacy.
"Randy, are you out here?" Something hit her foot and she looked down. Most of her body was in the dark, but the toe of her boot was on the outer edge of a circle of light. Something told her to pick up the broken piece of pipe laying before her. She bent down and lifted it, then kept walking.
Her arms were cold. She only wore a tight white tank top and very small vinyl shorts, laced together on the sides. The night air was warm, and the chill came from the inside. There were more groans, and then flesh smacking flesh. Trish's gut churned at the recognition of what was going on. Someone was getting a beating, and she had a good idea who it was.
She took off sprinting down the way. "Randy!" Trish wondered for a second where the sluts were that had come out with him. They could have at least come in to get some help. "They had better not show their faces around here again," she huffed, hurrying forwards.
Trish stopped short at the sight of someone straddling Randy's waist, hands high in the air. They were illuminated by the lamps above, and light flickered off of something shiny. The word 'blade' registered in her head, and Trish ran forward screaming, the thoughts of Randy's attempt at infidelity forgotten for the moment.
The man hovering over Randy turned. He paused for a moment as he saw Trish running towards him, holding the pipe high, ready to bash him away. He looked back at Randy, as if to wonder whether or not he could plunge the knife home before Trish made it to him. Deciding he couldn't, he got up and took off down the back lot.
Trish skidded to a halt beside Randy and dropped down to the ground. He was still conscious, groaning in pain. His face was bloody, as was his chest. She lifted his shirt quickly and was relieved to see that there were no pin pricks in his body. There was a shard of bone peeking through his skin, though, and that told Trish that he had at least one broken rib, possibly more.
Randy tried to sit up and Trish shook her head. "Be still," she told him, trying to figure out what to do. There was blood on her hands and she stared at it in shock. "Shit!"
"Who... was that?"
She shook her head. "I don't know." Trish took in deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. "Alright... you've got a walkie, right? A Nextel walkie?"
Randy tried to take in a deep breath and let out a ragged scream. He weakly brought his hand up to his side. "Yeah," he said, after swallowing hard.
"Alright... Just be still. There's stuff broken in there." Forgetting that there was blood on her hands, Trish shoved her hair back behind her ears, then did her best to search Randy's pockets without causing him too much pain. She looked at the walkie and tried to remember what the numbers were for the inside. When she thought she had the right one, she dialed.
"What?"
Shit, she thought. She was going for Chyna and had gotten Hunter. Didn't really matter, though. "Get out back now!"
"Trish? What the fuck is going on?"
"Get out here!"
"You caught Randy with a hooker, didn't you? Everybody owes me money! She just kicked his ass!"
"Godddammit!" She looked down at Randy and growled into the walkie. "Fuck you, Hunter. He got his ass kicked, but it wasn't by me. It was by some guy with a big shiny knife, so get the fuck out here and do it now!"
Trish snapped the phone shut and resisted the overwhelming urge to throw it across the lot. She looked down at Randy and tentatively touched his shoulder. "They're on their way, and um... shit! They'll call the cops." Gently as possible, she searched Randy's pockets. The last thing they needed was for the cops to find drugs on him. Trish pulled out two small brown vials of cocaine and a small case filled with X. "Okay... I got this. And, um... they're coming and I'll give it to Hunter and..." Trish sighed and moved around to the top of his body. She sat down on the ground and carefully pulled Randy's head into her lap. "It'll be alright, Randy. And just... look on the bright side. You getting hurt just got you in trouble for taking the tramps out back."