Bang Bang(4)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

I jolted from my seat and tried to punch him in the face.

Sergio grabbed my arm just in time.

Campisi smiled. “I just love when business deals work out, don’t you?” He tilted his head towards Sergio and slowly waltzed out of the damn bar like he was king.

And the sick part?

To all of us?

To the five Families?

He was worst.

CHAPTER TWO

Amy

I HATED IT. I hated every second of it. But I didn’t know what else I could do. I had just been fired from my waitressing job for being late too many times, but that was because I was struggling to finish college. It wasn’t like I was out back getting high or selling drugs or anything.

No. I was just associated with the mafia.

Not the good kind.

The family everyone hated.

My mother died shortly after the incident that night, and my father all but disappeared. The foster care system let me go back to my home to grab a few things. I grabbed as much as I could. And then they sent me to home after home after home.

And each time they discovered what my name was — I was shipped to another home.

My suitcase broke after the third home so everything was transferred into two large black trash bags. To this day I couldn’t take out the trash without getting severe stomach cramps.

The last family was the nicest. But by then I only had another month left in the system. Sergio had called a few times and told me that although he was in hiding, I could stay at one of his houses, but the last thing I wanted to do was depend on someone who blamed me for his brother’s death. So the minute I graduated, I got the hell out Chicago and headed down south. Even working as a waitress while paying my way through school sounded like more fun than staying in the one place that was filled with memories of him—of his life—his death.

Finally, I’d found my heat.

The sun always felt good against my face. I could always rely on it to rise every day. And every day I knew it would stare down at me; its rays would fall against my skin and I knew it was just another day I was given a chance to make something of myself. Something that would make Ax proud.

I swallowed the knot in my throat.

He wouldn’t be proud now.

He’d be disgusted. But I’d exhausted all other options. The waitressing job had barely kept me afloat as it was, and I needed money — fast.

The neon sign flashed in my line of vision. I gripped my cheap fake leather purse tighter against my shoulder and winced as my world caved in around me.

Hiring Dancers! Next to the sign was another. Topless! Dollar Jell-O shots after 11:00!

Each word was like a punch to the gut. Slowly, I forced one foot to follow the other until I reached the blacked-out door.

With trembling fingers I clenched the knob and twisted.

Low heady music played in the background, but the place was empty of customers. The man behind the bar was cleaning glasses and watching something ahead of him. I turned to follow his gaze as three women started dancing in synchronization on the stage. I should have turned around and ran, but he saw me.

“Can I help you?”

“Um…” It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but as I backed up into what I thought was a wall, strong hands gripped the sides of my arms.

“What have we here?”

I turned and gasped. The man was ugly as sin. A long scar ran from his eyebrow all the way across his face, the flesh was pulled tight but at the wrong angle making his face looked like a mismatched quilt.

“I, uh, saw the ad.” I pointed to the door, careful to avert my eyes from his scary face. “For dancers.”

“You have any experience?” he asked in a gravelly voice as he winked at the bartender. Heat invaded my face. I was so embarrassed, so ashamed. Tears threatened.

“No, but I’m a quick learner,” I finally said, our gazes meeting again.

The man’s smile turned hungry. “I bet you are, beautiful.”

“You know—” I gave a half hearted laugh and started to sidestep him. “—maybe I’m wrong, maybe I should just leave, you know, yeah that’s a good idea I’ll—”

“Three hundred dollars,” he whispered, his hand moved to my arm.

I stopped.

“My girls make three hundred a night on a bad night, five if it’s good. We’re one of the only topless bars that offers cheap booze.”

Great, so I’d have cheap drunks to look forward to along with losing my morals.

“So?” He tilted his head. “What do you say?”

I closed my eyes, briefly apologizing to my mom, to Axton, to everyone in my life who’d ever believed in me and told me I was going to make something of myself one day.

I waved goodbye to the straight-A student who just wanted to see a palm tree, and when I opened my eyes I shook hands with the devil and whispered, “When do I start?”

A person will do anything to survive… anything.

CHAPTER THREE

Amy

THREE HOURS OF “training” and I was ready for my debut. The training consisted of girls teaching me all the things I should be careful of when dancing. Never let a man pull you into a dark corner — unless he pays. No sex — unless he pays. No touching—unless he pays. When I told them I thought it was just dancing, they laughed at me.

Apparently money really did talk and the girls were willing to do anything to make more of it. I was surprised to find out that a few of them were pretty well off, making more than what someone would start out working full-time with a degree, but that didn’t make me feel any better.

It was what I was doing.

Dancing, basically naked, in front of people, and earning money for it. Earning money for my skinny, barely fed body.

I was fit, only because I was forced to walk everywhere.

I was tan because walking meant I was outside all the time.

And I was skinny because oatmeal and Top Ramen were the only two things I had in my apartment at any given time.

The last chocolate cake I had was for my sixteenth birthday. Funny, my twenty-second birthday had been yesterday.

The day I’d gotten fired.

The same day I’d finally given up.

No cake. No candles. No Axton. I closed my eyes against the painful memories.

“What’s your wish?” Axton whispered, holding the cake up so I could blow out the single candle he’d put there. “Tell me.”

“I want a palm tree.”

He laughed. “In Chicago?”

“No silly, in Florida, or Texas, or California, just… somewhere warm. I want a palm tree in my yard.”