1989: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.
warnings: adult content, mature rea...
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December 1992
Bill stood in the guest room with Alma trying to contain the devious smile he could feel tugging at his mouth. He had just revealed that her friend Ulyssa wanted to visit Trigger Finger and she was just the ticket to get his girlfriend there too.
"What the hell did you say to her?!" Alma said accusatoryly.
"I just told her about the place. I didn't invite her if that's what you think? She asked to go herself."
"Why the hell would she want to go if she doesn't even..." she trailed off. "Unless you made it sound like fun?"
"Well, it is a fun place, Alma." He crossed his arms in front of his chest indignantly. "I don't have a problem with her going. And I told her as much. So if you don't want her to go you can tell her that yourself."
Alma shook her head. "Christ," she said under her breath. "What about Echo?"
"I can cover the office windows enough that she won't see anything."
"You've thought about this..." she looked at him knowingly.
"I knew it might have been a possibility..." Bill admitted.
Alma let out an incredulous laugh. "You're unbelievable, sometimes."
"So?" He said, biting his cheek to keep his smirk at bay.
Alma sat at the edge of the bed and shook her head to herself in resignation. "I..." she sighed. "I know you told me you remodeled?"
Bill took a seat next to her and pulled her towards him. "I did. The office is a new addition in a different area of the club. Brand new. And we don't have to stay long." He reassured her. He didn't like working in the old loft either after what had transpired there so he knew Alma's trepidation.
Alma wrapped her arms around the side of him and buried her head into his chest. She thought for a moment. Maybe she could tell her friend no but didn't want to risk being a buzzkill and she didn't want to do that to Ulyssa.
"Okay," she muttered. "I trust you. I love you."
"I love you too," he smiled, kissing the top of her head.
"But," Alma continued, "you're not as sneaky as you think you are." She looked up at him and cupped his jaw with her hand.
"Maybe a little," he smirked and then dipped his head down to kiss her tenderly.
...
Ulyssa was getting dressed to go to the strip club her friend's boyfriend owned. That was a wild thought to her let alone that it was a reality. When Alma asked her if she was sure while they ate pot roast she reiterated that she was but she could tell her friend was hoping she had changed her mind. She was in the bathroom looking at her outfit in the mirror. Newly purchased from her shopping spree. It was a cropped white baby tee she paired with an inky short skirt that had a high slit. Alma picked that for her. She switched her titanium septum jewelry with one that had gems on it then after retouching her eyeliner she swiped her lips with a stone-colored lipstick and topped it with gloss.
