Tone of Deceit
Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N:
Chapter 22 (Ring of Fear)
Andre looked over Roger's hideout, which was essentially a brothel under the guise of a hotel. It had every appearance of a luxurious hotel, with a front lobby and a full barroom as well as an entertainment wing. The lobby was in the center of the building, with the entertainment room on the right hand side and the barroom on the left.
There were two metal stairwells, one on each side of the front desk, that rose to a floor with numerous rooms. As he made his way through the brothel and into the barroom, he caught a whiff a smoke and sweat. The bar was at the end and was being manned by a topless bartender, she had light tanned skin and short black hair, her eyes were dull and boredom was etched on her face.
There were approximately six nine foot pool tables in the room, with one being played on. Another table was being used for sex, to which Andre rolled his eyes and looked away in disgust. "You're too young to drink," said the bartender, "Haven't seen you around here."
Andre sat at the bar and looked down at the left end where the fountain drinks were. "If I could just have a Dr. Pepper?" The woman nodded and grabbed a drinking glass from behind the bar. "I told Roger I wanted to join his organization." The woman filled up the glass and carried it back to him, scoffing as she set the drink down.
"Why would you want to do that? Ruin your life? I can tell you're young, younger than you ought."
With a shrug, he took the glass and raised it towards his lips. "He's my father." There wasn't much he was sure whether he could say, especially with the risk of being found out for a lie. "Someone I knew joined him a while back too, so I thought I'd do the same." The woman shook her head at him and leaned sideways onto the bar, folding her arm on the table.
"Your father? Roger's cruel as any man can get, and I'm sure he's got plenty of kids; but I've never met one of them." Andre sipped his soda and closed his eyes. His features tensed as he pulled the cup away. "From the tone of your voice, you don't sound sympathetic to him."
"No?"
"Well, firstly, you sneered when you said 'father'. Second, your tone was almost nonchalant when you said you wanted to join his organization." She turned towards him and leaned forward, smirking bright. "So forgive me, but I don't believe you're all that loyal."
"Are you?"
"I'd be a woman of respect otherwise." She stood upright and crossed her arms. "Instead I'm forced to work this slimy bar while my breasts hang out for everyone to see. There's not a man or woman here that respects him; but they fear him."
''I can only imagine." Andre looked down at the soda, his forehead creasing as the corners of his lips sank. "I've grown up thinking of him only as a monster; but this is the first time I've seen the true extent." The woman laughed.
"This? This is only the shallow end. Roger's got one of the biggest prostitution and gambling rackets in Los Angeles. He's a dangerous and powerful man, and not one to suffer traitors. I can't count the times I've seen him gun someone down without so much as batting an eye." Andre shuddered and looked over his shoulder, grimacing at the pool table in the far corner.
There was one woman laying on the surface of the table and three men using her. It was a nightmarish sight, one that chilled him to the bone. "What is this place?" He asked. The bartender gave a heavy sigh and began wiping down part of the bar with a wet towel.
"A brothel essentially…looks like a hotel at every angle, but there's a girl in every room. This is his base of operations."
"I thought he was into prostitution."
"Um." She cleared her throat and shifted a narrow eyed gaze at him. "What exactly do you think a brothel is, child?" He rolled his head to the right and wiggled his nose a bit.
"A place where call girls reside and usually not seen in America?"
"Close enough." The woman grabbed a glass from her sink and began to wipe it down. "Now, why are you here? You don't seem like you're exactly falling over to be a part of your dearest daddy's business."
"I said, someone I knew joined the organization and so I wanted to do the same."
"You're looking for somebody, then." The woman smirked and Andre doubled back. He was aghast at how perceptive this lady was, but then, bartenders were pretty adept at observing people. "She got a name?"
"What makes you think-"
The woman folded her tattooed arms on the bar and leaned over them, looking directly into Andre's eyes. She furrowed her brow at him and the corners of her lips sank into her cheeks. "Let me ask again, I know you're afraid of getting found out and I really don't care what you're doing here; but who is this lady you're looking for? You clearly have no interest in being here and seeing how you're cringing at every little thing in this place…there's no reason you would be here if you weren't looking for some girl."
He sighed, defeated. "Sherri." The bartender leaned upright, slowly nodding her head. He removed a photograph from his pocket and handed it over. The bartender carefully took the picture and studied it close. "She was kidnapped by one of her teachers and sold to the asshole."
"I recognize her face. Sweet girl." She handed the photo back and closed her eyes. "She was tough, you'd never think it by looking at her, but she was a fighter." Andre's heart sank and he looked down at the picture.
"It's my fault she was taken, or at least, feels like it. I need to find her." He glanced up at her almost in askance. The bartender looked to the group having sex on the pool table and huffed.
"Maybe a hundred girls or so and you want to save just one?"
Andre closed his hands into fists, growing tighter with each second. "No," he replied while lowering his voice, "Roger needs to pay." The bartender eyed him curiously, her lips twisting. "This horror, this nightmare, it needs to end."
"That hatred in your voice and in your eyes…what did he do to you? Did you grow up knowing about all of this?"
"No, I only recently discovered it. He's nothing more than a sperm donor to me. He murdered my mother and my step family." His body began to shake and he lowered his head, glaring down at the soda. The skin around his eyes and lips tightened as he remembered the heat of fire coupled with the anguished screams of his family. "My mother was once a prostitute and she was trying to leave him, but he wouldn't let it happen." His voice broke. "I was just a boy. He slaughtered them…"
The bartender closed her eyes and bowed her head. Her chest expanded slowly and she turned her head towards the right as her nostrils flared and her eyes opened partially. "Gunnar Street and Smith." Andre raised an eyebrow at the woman's whisper and he looked up as the lady glanced back at him. "That's where you'll find her. Sherri. Assigned to walk the streets there, she's forced to live in a shack of an apartment on that corner."
"She's a streetwalker? Why doesn't she run?"
"You think she's not watched like the rest of the girls?" The bartender crossed her arms and sighed. "A John keeps tabs on his or her prostitutes and controls them with fear. Most of these women are broken, he only keeps the ones tethered to his bases that haven't been broken yet. The ones that have been, that he knows won't try to escape, those are the ones he sets out onto the streets."
Andre cringed, visualizing Sherri in the worst way. Nausea clung to his tongue and swirled in his gut as fire burned in his veins. "What about you?" She laughed.
"I'd own my own bar if not for this jackass, don't get me wrong. I have a small amount of freedom in that I can go home at the end of the day, but even I'm reigned in by that devil. If I tried to run, if I talked, I know how I'd end up."
"That bad?"
"The men, he just simply kills. The women?" Fear and anger flashed in the bartender's eyes and Andre cringed away, he didn't need to hear what happened to the women who ran. No, he could see it in her eyes. "Let's just say a quick death would be welcomed."
"I'm sorry." He drank the last of his soda and gently pushed it forward. "I never caught your name." The woman picked up his glass with a sigh.
"Mel." A smile cracked on the girl's face. "Melanie Puckett. Used to look a lot more attractive than this." Andre chuckled softly and slowly reached towards his pocket.
"That's a familiar sounding name." Melanie shrugged. "I guess you were abducted too."
"No shit. Bet my sister would be looking for me, but I hope not." Melanie rolled out a heavy sigh and looked away, a somber glaze filled her eyes. "I would hate for her to get mixed up in all of this." Andre nodded slowly and he could feel his heart beating heavily against his chest.
Where had he heard the name before? He couldn't be sure. One thing was certain, this woman deserved to be free. "You sound much older when you talk, Mel." Mel raised an eyebrow and Andre leaned forward, studying what appeared to be a hint of blonde roots beneath her hair. Mel leaned back, her eyebrows rising. "Sorry. I just noticed your hair color is different."
"Used to be blonde. And it's true what they say, trauma ages you…"
"Still a bit young to own your own bar, you're just a couple years older than I am."
"Well, to be fair, it would've been a family business. My dad owned a couple high end bars up north." Andre blinked twice and it slowly dawned on him who this woman was. With a heavy sigh, he placed a ten dollar bill on the bar. Mel studied it cautiously. "Excuse me? You only had a soda, I'm not charging you for that."
"I know. Consider it a tip." Andre hopped off the stool and started to walk away, but stopped for a moment. "You said you get to go home each night? Where to?"
Mel smirked. "29 Copper Blvd." She tilted her head to the right. "Not far from the heart of this oh so fine city…" Andre blinked twice and slowly walked away, thanking her for her time.
He made his way upstairs to a private room, one he hoped to get some sleep in if at all possible. The room had a greasy feel to it, with black smudges all along the walls. The window was smeared with prints, and the bed covers were sloppily thrown onto it.
With a sigh, he pressed his back against the door and sank to the ground. His joints ached and his body shook as nerves flared up. "My god." Tears welled up in his eyes and he carefully removed his phone.
He didn't know what this place was like, or if he was under any kind of surveillance. Fortunately, his phone case resembled a wallet in which he had cards that he could pull out and make it look like he was going through a wallet.
"Melanie Puckett," he typed into a message box, "29 Copper Blvd, L.A." He took a deep breath and continued to tremble. "Forced to bartend for Roger's prostitution ring, but allowed to go home each night. Still fearful of him…please intercept. She doesn't deserve this fate." With haste he hit the send button, then closed the phone case.
Tears ran down his cheeks and his hands continued to tremble. In his thoughts, he prayed, he prayed that the police would act swiftly. If no one else, he trusted Trina and her father to be swift.
"Why is her name so familiar?"
Fair to say no one saw that coming. We now have a reason for a certain someone to have travelled to LA, huh? Andre's doing something good, though understandably he must be cautious and careful. I'm sure the Vegas will think of a way to get that bartender out of there.