Fight or Flight

Chapter One

POV Nova

Here goes nothing.

The bouncer mutters a brief, "good luck" in my direction before he lets me pass the dingy velvet rope. I couldn't be more thankful its a regular working on the door as I've noticed the smell of urine is especially pungent tonight.

Both curses and catcalls follow me as I enter the building skipping the line. I let out a sigh of relief as the smell of urine and filth dissipates and new scents assault my nose. Cigarettes, cologne and stale booze, its too early for the smell of B.O thankfully.

Paying no mind to the blur of faces that surround me, I make my way into the warehouse known on the streets as "The Den". 

The people that hangout in The Den don't care much for girls like me - pretty girls with a sharp tongue and even sharper reflexes. Its all fun and games when our efforts line their pockets but at the end of the night when we wont put out, they don't think that's very fun. Not at all.

Walking across the expanse of the room my eyes dart around taking in the familiar sights. The concrete floors with stains of rust (that are probably mostly blood) and the high ceilings that make the building echo. Reverberating the yells, grunts and cracks as two men stand in the center of an octagon ring pummeling each other for their cut of pay. 

I keep pushing my way through the steadily forming crowd when my eye catches a large empty area toward the back, sectioned off with velvet rope. Only unlike the dingy rope at the front door this rope is bright red, like its brand new.

They only do that for people who pay a pretty penny for it, usually gangs that book VIP to watch the fights unbothered or to talk about some shady illegal shit while enjoying some live entertainment. Lucky me, my winnings might be decent tonight.

"I didn't think you were going to be here tonight Nov." Carter, says to me. "Gonna be some interesting guests tonight so stick close until you go warm up." He murmurs to me while pouring  my regular 3 shots of tequila.

The bars not too busy yet so I absentmindedly survey the room. "Who is it, do you know?" I ask after taking my first shot, it's cute that he looks out for me, but I'm here for money. The bigger the name the bigger the payout.

"Not sure, but something tells me that it's not the Pope by the way Scott was acting earlier. He's pretty on edge." Carter explains with an underlying tinge of unease in his voice.
Oh great. 

"Probably one of the local gang members having a birthday party or something." I state with a smirk on my face earning a low chuckle from Carter.

"I'll be sure to have the balloons ready." He tells me sarcastically before the grin slips off his face. "Guess that's them now, gotta get to work. Make sure you put on a good show, clean 'em out." 

After a quick wink in my direction he turns around and starts giving orders to a group of waitresses who quickly adjust their appearances before picking up trays filled with bottles and heading towards the private party.

I spend some time to myself sticking close to the bar as The Den slowly fills. I enjoy some light "people watching" and take my second shot. Once upon a time I hated places like this but now I don't mind them, maybe I'm desensitized or maybe I'm just a lover of the chaos. Who knows.

Down the hatch.

Taking my last shot of tequila I sigh and relish in the warm burn, trying to mentally prepare myself to follow the line of waitresses toward the back.