The Killer, The Liar, The Lover

Chapter Three

You had almost convinced yourself that Ransom hadn't minded the job you'd been offered and when it came to the money, he was more than fine but he wanted you to remember who was boss but brushing a rib. So before your shift ended you took some more make-up from Natasha and put it in your bag before heading  back upstairs though the bar, the evening buzzed with the echo of drunken chatter. 

"You not working tonight Y/N?" You heard the familiar drunken mummer of one of the regulars to the night club and a close personal friend of Ransoms. 

"Not tonight Brock" You say as politely as possible. 

"You need a hit? That bruise on your face looks pretty bad" He gets up wafting a bag in front of you, a bluish powder. A knowing look on his face. This new concoction of drug had been his idea and Ransom had put a lot of money behind it but you weren't sure it had caught on in the way they'd hoped. 

"Not tonight Brock, I really have to go." You spot Max entering the bar, looking save in a black shirt and long coat, his hair combed back. Brock didn't notice him, having his back to the door. He catches your eye and as you try to move away Brock stands in front of you.  

"Where you off in such a rush? Come sit. Ransom won't mind, plus I know you need what I have." He say, ushering you back into the booth he was sat in. 

"You know he's out of town but I still have to go." You say, wondering if that why he was so keen to talk to you. Brock finally clocks you looking at Max, who's now talking to Tipsy and drinking. Tipsy's back is to you. 

"What? Ransom finally see sense, letting you earn some cash the good ole fashion way?" Brock shakes his head, clearly he hadn't noticed Max before. 

"Yes." You say, you weren't sure why but there was a chance it would get you away from the table. 

"Fuck off, if he was he'd have let me have first dibs" Brock scoffs a laugh, taking a sip of his beer. 

"Its true, and well that man is going to pay a lot, where as you would get mates rates. . ." you hated every word that was coming out of your mouth but you'd started and now you had to run with it. 

"I don't believe you" Brock leaned in, his breath reeked. 

"Well watch me get him to take me home and you'll see. . ." you say flatly. 

"You're just going to ask him to take you home and pretend, no, I want some proof." Brock sat back. Shit. 

"Fine, you'll have to pretend you're my pimp though." Brock's smile widened much to your disgust. 

"Oh that wouldn't take much for me to pretend, go on then." He motioned for you to leave. You place your bag to the side of the booth for easy access. Before sauntering over to Max, you were glad you were in your sexy bar wear. 

"Hey. . " you make it look like you're flirting form behind for Brock sake, a twiddle of the hair accidentally touching Max's arm. 

"What are you doing?" Max looks at you weirdly. 

"That man I was talking to, he's a friend of Ransoms and he's bad fucking news and he's not going to let me leave so I lied and said Ransom was pimping me out and you were the target because you're rich." You wince "Now he won't leave till he knows I'm not just asking you to help me run away." 

"That was a half cooked plan." Tipsy giggles discreetly pretending not to be part of the conversation. 

"Let me finish cooking it then" Max said as he spins you round, arm loosely around your back he heads over to Brock. 

"This belong to you?" Max asks a little deadpan as usual. 

"I don't know her." Brock shrugs, you eye him weirdly before remembering it was actually illegal what you were doing so he wasn't just going to admit to it incase he was a cop.