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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The Russo brothers and their two lackeys had come waltzing in the club like Bill and Alma had feared throughout the week. Though the hail of bullets they were expecting hadn't come with them. Theo slammed the loft door shut as if it gave them any protection if they decided to change their minds and take aim. Bill pulled his gun from out his waistband warily shifting his eyes between the Russo's through the two-way mirror windows and at Alma figuring what to do with her. Alma stood there, still clutching herself, and stared at the Russo's below without any real emotion running through her. After what happened at Ben's she just felt numb. It was all a waste just to get her rocks off. To pretend that she didn't need Bill to feel good. If a bullet were to hit her in the chest she doubts she'd even feel it, hell she probably wouldn't have cared either.
"I need you to hide under my desk," Bill said urgently, pushing her in the direction of it.
"What?!" She said pulled her out of her dark thoughts. "Bill?" She said harshly under her breath watching him cock the gun slide back, a bullet now hot in the chamber. "Is this really happening?" She muttered now aware of the gravity of their situation.
"Alma go! Please..."
Alma finally budged and ducked behind the desk. Although, she peeked the top of her head out to watch Bill stalk next to Theo and stand guard of the door with their fingers ready at the trigger.
"Knock knock?" They heard a deep voice say from the club floor. "C'mon, we know you're in there Skarsgård."
"Christ," he hissed.
"Can we come up? We're actually not here for trouble..." Another man said punctuating his statement with a dark menacing chuckle.
Bill bit his lip and with an uncertain wave, he signaled Theo to open the door. Theo took a deep breath and then bravely opened the door, still with his gun drawn at the ready.
"You can even pat us down big boy," A voice from below said. "But I prefer you didn't."
"What the hell do you guys want?" Bill said clearly bothered as he stole a glance out the door.
"You know what the fuck you did? Now can we talk?"
And much to his dismay and apprehension Bill allowed the Russo Brothers – and only them – into the loft after cooperating with being pat down by Theo. Although Bill knew they were hiding heat somewhere on their person but so was he. The Brothers stepped in practically casing the place while admiring the setup.
"Say, you really cleaned this place up since Myrna owed it." The older of the two brothers said. He went by the name Batter which he earned when he was much younger when his favorite weapon was a Louisville that he'd swing straight to your dome. He was old school and much older than his obvious baby brother, who simply went by Joey. He still carried the classic mob look wearing a mocha three-piece suit and matching fedora adorned with the eye of a peacock feather. His eyes were deeply creased, they told unspeakable stories from the many lifetimes he's lived opposed to his sibling who still had a hopeful and aspiring twinkle in his eyes. Joey was closer to Bill's age and it was apparent by his trendy 1980s threads he was brought in to the family business to keep things fresh with the times.
