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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In the dark and damp alleyway behind Trigger Finger XXX Bill and Alma were passing a cigarette back and forth while they watched a few of the security staff beat the hell out of a rude, handsy customer. Even Bundy stood by checking out the action and keeping watch. When Bill was made aware of the man's antics in the private room it only took the snap of his fingers to have him immediately dragged out like a literal sack of garbage. Poor chump never had a chance. With each kick to the man's gut, Alma would wince inching closer to Bill's side. She didn't feel bad for the guy in the slightest but when his nose started to run red it was almost as if she could feel it. Bill put his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder in comfort.
"Get Kansas for me, will you?" He whispered in her ear. "You don't have to come back after if you don't want to."
She didn't budge at his suggestion, instead, she looked up at him with a doubtful stare. Bill shook his head, huffing loudly as he reached for his Glock 45 to remove the clip full of hollow points from it.
"You think I would," he asked passing it off to her.
"I only know that I would," she said tucking the clip away in her leather jacket. "And the bullet in the chamber," she held her palm out.
Bill rolled his eyes in resignation, pulling back the slide lock and handing over his last and only bullet before kissing the top of her head sending her off to retrieve Kansas inside. When Alma found her in the locker room, Cooch was gathering her red hair – that was previously french braided – into a ponytail to give her some air while she sobbed into her hands. Girls crying in the locker room was always a strange sight to see as it was juxtaposed with half-naked indifferent dancers in the foreground. From what Alma had gathered through the commotion, the client getting beaten wasn't only being unnecessarily harsh but he was calling her all sorts of ugly names to get his rocks off which sent Kansas running out the private rooms and straight to Bill arms in his VIP booth.
"You gonna be alright Kansas?" Alma said leaning on the door frame.
Still unable to speak Cooch spoke for her. "Oh, she's got the whole night to relax now. She'll be back to workin' ordah in no time!"
"Kansas... Marcy," Alma said softly, finally gaining her attention, "Bill wants you out back."
"Oh no... I don't want to see that guy again," she shook her head.
"It's gonna be alright. Bill's gotta handle on him, come," she motioned.
Though apprehensive, Kansas held on to Alma's hand as she followed her out to the back alley where Bill had joined in on the man's beating, cheerfully being egged on by the other men.
Alma cleared her throat loudly, "Bill."
Before he could connect a knockout blow to the man's face with his boot he righted himself, smoothing his hair back when he heard his name fall from her lips. And just like that with another snap of his fingers the security quickly peeled the man's beaten body off the pavement. He couldn't even stand well on his own having to resort to leaning on the men who had made him that way.
