Dharmanta: Tibetan, meaning the intrinsic nature of everything, the essence of things as they are. The naked, unconditioned truth.
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The infamous George Davidson, known by nothing more than a club owner who stripped in his own club. With money pract...
It was the 9th of February, just another day for clay though. everyday his job just seemed to grow harder and harder, until he snaps.
The time was eight in the morning, however he hadn't gotten any sleep last night anyway, he barley does.
there was a knock on his heavy-hard wood door, causing him to flinch and snap up out of habit.
"what" clay laid back down onto his bed, the very over sized sweats resting on his waste with his boxers peeking from the top, revealing his v line on the shirtless body. He was laying on his back, his left hand behind his head and his right resting on his stomach. he faced the ceiling, staring at the painted star system, well really it was just splatters of white dots but he liked to look at it a different way.
"we found him." nicks words were short cut, he was happy and clay could hear it.
nick was clays right hand man, also would be the one to inherit the mafia if anything ever went wrong. however neither of them looked at it like that, because they have been best friends since childhood.
clays body slowly turned, his face staring at nick with a mix of confusion and shock, as if he didn't know if nick was lying or not.
"we found jarred" nicks face broke out in a smile, now revealing that he wasn't lying.
jarred was a past member of the mafia, he ran when he couldn't handle killing someone, and that's perfect cause to kill him. However, him being in the mafia for so long, he knew how to hide and they have been looking for him for months now.
"your fucking with me" clay let a smile peak up onto his lips and he stood up, brushing off his pants as he wandered into his ginormous walk in closet.
"im thinking best time would be around six or so, its up to you though" nick smiled a bit and plopped down onto the large black sofa that sat in the corner of clays room.
Believe it or not they lived in this ginormous house on the San Gabriel mountains, owning the almost entire mountain range made it easy to hide and keep others off. the house was three story's above ground and two below, making the total floors 5. Clay didn't like to admit it but it was a literal castle, with moss covering the stone walls and a large pond in the front, it was habitat for a king.
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Mafia house ^
"yeah, that leaves us ten hours about" clay hummed from his closet, gazing at the formal wear he owned, then over to the more casual outfits.
nick hummed in response, sprawled out on clays couch with his phone in his hand.
the skies were rather dark for a February morning, and not to mention in Los Angeles. but nick and clay enjoyed it, because where they lived, when it rained, it became like a wonder land. with all the animals coming out to see what was happening, the birds singing after the showers, the flowers blooming with excitement.
clay ended up getting dressed in a thick white turtle neck, with a black puffy vest over it. He wore khaki colored jeans that hung slightly loose at his knees and down. there was a small gold chain that hung around his neck, with small piercings in his ears. the metallic stud in his nose was cool with the air.
"kay lets go" clays words rang from the closet after he had tied a dagger around his ankle and two ring daggers on his wrists.
nick jumped up from his seat and they began walking, first it was down the hallway and they warmly greeted alex, who was clays other right hand man, and nicks boyfriend, and they walked through the kitchen. as the other members saw the trio huffing through the room, they knew to follow.
the icy air in the mountains struck clays face with little white pins and pricks that sent shivers down his spine, an unusual feeling for the notorious killer.
by the time everyone made it outside to the SUV's, the whole group consisted of clay, nick, alex, zak, techno, and james. the mafia was relatively small for such a world known group, it only had 11 official members. and they all traveled together no matter what, of course excluding private missions or vacations.
"who's driving?" nick asked out of pure amusement because he knew damn well that clay and techno were the ones driving because they didn't trust anyone with their lives.
"nice try" techno shook his head, his pastel pink hair tied into a tight bun at the top of his head. now techno was one of the more, well, scarier members of the mafia. he was right next to clay in the being physically scary department but clay overpowered him with his literal power.
time passed, an hour give or take, the road into town took fucking forever and everyone always complained about it. but it gave clay the time to think, whether it was thinking about business, personal, or just random shit that popped up into his head.
the time was now 9:30am and everyone was kind of moping in the car, seeing as they had literally just made it to the highway.
"I swear to god why cant we live somewhere IN town" nick threw his arms up and rolled down his window, feeling the little and light droplets of dirty rain from the city.
"would you like to live in an apartment down town with the chance of someone killing you in your sleep?" techno clay turned around from the front passenger seat and glared at nick, showing a shimmer of happiness until turning back to the front row.
"we literally kill people for a living, im sure we will be fine" nick shot back before looking out the window again, not wanting anything to do with the conversation anymore because he knew he was losing.
clay smiled with content as they pulled into the official town, seeing buildings that lined the roads, sky rocketing into the sky with no end. but there was one building that caught his attention, it was white and square with rounded corners and almost a square pyramid roof.
(a/n this is an actual place, its called "sunset tower hotel" in Los Angeles, California)
it wasn't the building itself, but it was almost the person who owned it that made clay wonder. there was nothing In particular he wanted to know, besides everything about the man. because george was relatively a ghost, no one knew much about him and even a person with such high profiles as clay, it made him curious. because there was this rumor, this small sliver of thought that spills from the club members, that the owner stripped on his own poles.
