After being attacked, professional call girl Raya and her sister Lana become a little less human. Though one sees this as a gift and an enhancement toward professional improvement, the other sees this as a curse.
On top of that, they're being toyed...
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"You need a stiff one..." Raya told Lana as she glared at her out of the corner of her eye.
The Impala's door locks clicked automatically the second the motor hummed to life.
"Yeah, and maybe a valium," Lana replied flatly. She sniffled. A few tears had seeped through her composure.
"Now, now. There's no need for prescription drugs." Raya patted Lana's shoulder. "We're going to drown our sorrows in some alcohol like responsible adults. I'll call the client and have him meet us there."
"Just get us out of here," Lana urged.
Robby was finally free of the pummeling guy. He rushed to the car, slamming into its side, and pounded on the passenger window. Lana tried her best to ignore the dolt.
"Please, open the door!" he shouted, and he pulled on the locked door handle. When that did no good, he thumped the window with his fist some more. "Baby-cakes, I love you. I didn't mean to push you."
Lana made no sign of interest in anything he said. She stared straight ahead, hating him and feeling ashamed of all the crap she'd taken from him during the whole relationship.
Raya followed suit and ignored the loser as well. She steered the Impala toward Whiskeyville, her favorite bar, leaving Robby standing alone and shouting lame excuses and promises they all knew he would never keep.
Lana peeked in the side mirror as they drove off. She grumbled, "So much time wasted. What the fuck was I thinking?" under her breath, then punched the top of her sister's car to release some steam. It didn't make a dent, of course, but it was loud.
"Hey, watch it," Raya complained, swiping at Lana in a 'calm down' motion. "It's over. Hear me? You don't have to worry about him anymore."
Luckily, the bar was just about three songs on the car's CD player down the road, so by the time Taylor Swift's song Trouble was ending, they were parking at their destination. A bright building glowed through the harsh darkness of night. Purple numbers and letters above the door say Club Nightmare. It was Raya's favorite place to wind down after a busy or difficult night.
"Alright. Let's get this party started," Raya said as she shut the car off.
She fished her Prada wallett and cell phone out of her purse, but left the pepper spray. They wouldn't let her take that inside; it's considered a weapon. "Come on." She flashed Lana a devilish smile. It had been a while since they'd gone clubbing together.
Lana removed her seatbelt, looked in the rear view mirror, and pouted her lips to check her lipstick before getting out. She tugged at her plaid skirt. It was a tad chilly outside the car, but nothing she couldn't handle. She stood and waited for Raya, who was sounding pretty chatty on her cell phone, no doubt talking to the client. She'd called him Bruce.
Lana let her mind wander. Mister Bruce, a rich Bruce at that...like Bruce Wayne! Yeah! My own batman for one night! Lana chuckled out loud at the absurd thought. That's just what I need.
