Salamandra Book I: Pale Blue Flesh

Scene Five

New York City, New York.

Loz slapped Brandi hard across the face. Her head snapped around at an unhealthy angle and her knees buckled, but she stayed on her feet. She was tough, he would give her that. She was a survivor.

"Stupid bitch," he grunted, as he raised a fist and cocked it back. She held her hands up defensively, knowing full well they would do little to protect her. Loz wanted to punch her as hard as he could to relieve his anger, but that would damage her face. And her face was the money maker. The slap would certainly cause her cheek to redden and swell, but only temporarily. Her body wasn't as enticing as it used to be. The heroin had made her too skinny. The skin-tight miniskirt she was wearing barely hung on her bony hips. So he couldn't risk disfiguring the face. He released his shaking fist and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her up against his gleaming Cadillac Escalade. She squeaked across the freshly waxed metal, still trying to hide behind her frail arms.

"Please, Loz! I told you I'd get it back!" she pleaded. Tears were streaming eyeliner down her cheeks, leaving dark stripes across the bright red imprint of his hand. "But I can't go in there all beat on!"

Loz leaned in close to her face, his lips twisted in anger, one hand gripping her shoulder so tightly that numbness began to creep in, while he drilled a single finger into her forehead with enough force that she thought it would penetrate her skull.

"Here's the deal, Brandi," he growled through clenched teeth. "You get your skanky ass in there and get that package back! You lost it, you get it back!" He leaned even closer, mashing the bridge of his wide nose into her much smaller one. She felt something grinding inside and feared that her cheekbones would collapse.

"Do you understand that shit's worth more than your life?"

"I-I-I'll get it back!" she whimpered.

"Yes you will," he stressed while crushing her nose with increased pressure from his own. "And if you don't, I'm gonna toss that baby of yours into a microwave!"

Brandi recoiled from the pain and wrenched her head to the side, afraid that her nose was going to break. "Don't even say that, Loz! You wouldn't hurt my Matthew!"

Loz grabbed Brandi roughly by the chin and yanked her around to face him again. She kept her eyes shut in fear and tried to turn away as he squeezed her chin so tightly that it bunched her flesh away from the bone.

"Look at me!" he shouted, but she was too afraid that another violent blow would be waiting if she opened her eyes. The grip on her chin grew painfully tighter. "Look at me, Brandi!" She finally obeyed, though she couldn't actually see anything because her vision was clouded from the tears.

"I'm not screwing around!" he continued ranting. "Get me that package back or you'll watch little Matty die!" He stood back and pulled her away from the car by the vise-like grip on her chin, then pushed her away into the street. She stumbled away towards a nightclub on the other side, wiping tears and clots of makeup from her cheeks.

"You do whatever it takes! You hear me?" Loz shouted at her. She paused at the front door to look back and nod at him, illuminated in the obscene brightness of the sign overhead that read "Gentlemen's Mystery Club." Then she pulled the door open and entered.

Inside the club, Alex Marconi felt a migraine coming on. He needed to get out of this hellhole. Mr. Bulwark could dress this place up as much as he wanted, but it was still a hellhole. The harsh stage lights, booming music, shouting voices, and stench of sweaty bodies both clothed and unclothed were an onslaught to the senses.

He massaged his temples as he wandered out from his office, weaving a path through the unyielding throng of leering men, oblivious to the nubile young woman squatting and gyrating on the raised stage mere feet away. This place, this assignment, was going to suck out his soul. How could he continue to turn a blind eye to so much human depravation?