My Fiction Fix #01

Writing Idea #48: Rebuild

CHAPTER 1

It's been over ten years since this place was once called home, "What can I get you...wow?" I hear a deep voice to the side and look over, the bartender opposite to me was staring at my jeans, because that was discrete.

"A coke would be good, thanks." I say to him.

"British? Love it." The guy next to him says, smirking as he dries a few dishes. I glance at their wrists, both of them held the inked in mark. A three-headed dragon. I couldn't tell whether they were new recruits or not. I glance over, feeling a pair of eyes, before snatching at silver ones in a back booth, one side of his neck filled with tattoos, that and a nose piercing on one nostril. His leather jacket looked too tight, I hand the cash over to the bartender. Feeling someone behind me move in. I reach for the cup at the same moment a hand was there.

"Oh, sorry. I thought that was mine." A gravelly voice notes behind me. I turn and a bearded male with a shaved head comes into view. Samual Johnson. One of the buffer males I recognised before me. The two bartenders tense when I side glance them, moving away while I feel a hand rub my back, the scent of cigarettes on his lips. I smile and roll up the napkin in my hands.

"What's your name, old man?" I play along, the little shit put something in my drink.

He stares at me, "Your worst nightmare. What's a girly like you doing in this club? If you're a stripper, take the drink, relax and I'll add a few wads of cash if you're good." He tells me, gesturing to the drink. I dip the napkin inside and pull it out. Revealing the fact there was no staining.

"You see, coke stains, but mixed with this particular new drug in the market, it can be a potent muscle relaxer. While it doesn't burn any surfaces, it does create this intriguing blend, Samual." I lower my voice, gesturing to the shocked bartender while Sam shoves out of his chair.

I tap my glass, "How the fuck do you know my name?" He snaps at me.

"What have you made so many call you now then? Bouncer?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He looks over my shoulder, "Is there a problem here?" If I thought I knew a seductive deep voice before, I knew nothing now as I glance over and see silver eyes penetrating mine. He's looking at me like I'm the problem.

"How the fuck do you know my name?" Sam asks again, his brown eyes holding my green ones.

I give him a bored look, "I am thoroughly surprised you forgot just who runs this joint." I point out.

Samuel scrutinises me, before almost stumbling back, "T-that's not fucking possible." He points at me, I study him.

"My father saved you from a very long line of people you use to owe. You held me once as a babe. You even taught me my times tables. My name is Cassandra King. As in leader of the King gang on this grand side of New York. However, it's not so grand yet is it. Now, who's the current boss?" I ask him.

He stares at me, horrified, "You're all dead." He whispers.

I blink at him, "Do you need a damn blood sample?" I ask him.

"Yes, we do." Silver eyes and his deep voice scrutinises me.

I look to him, "Who's your boss?" I question him.

He flicks two fingers towards a pair of linebacker teenagers behind him, "Get lost, sweetheart." He scoffs, silver eyes that nudge to the door exit, before two more guys, older step in behind me. I raise an eyebrow when both place their hands on my shoulders. Big mistake. I slam my heel into one shin, before elbowing him in the nose. The other guy gets a taser in his neck all before I slam his head into the table. The linebackers move forward before I forward roll between one's leg, slamming my leg between his. He howls while the place turns silent, watching. I take the last one before turning to the barrel of a gun aimed between my eyes, by silver eyes.