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AXIS OF ACTION
I find the nearest bodega, grab the first bottle of water I see and tear off the lid. I slap a twenty on the counter and rush back out. In the nearby alley, I rinse my mouth and spit it out. Rinse and repeat until the bottle is empty. I still taste bile and disgust.
Whiskey. I need whiskey.
Or Lucky.
My mind spins at the second thought. I slow it the fuck down and swipe my hand across my mouth.
No, not Lucky. Whiskey.
The more expensive the better. And I know just where to get it.
I slide back behind the wheel, slam the door shut and stomp my foot on the gas. I arrive at XYNYC half an hour later. The crowd is healthy, especially for a Thursday night. Axel runs the place on a tiered membership system. Platinum members get in on Fridays and Saturdays. Sundays are for gold members. The remaining days are free for all, but with a keen eye on who he lets in the door.
The paparazzi are camped outside as usual. I flick them the finger, guaranteeing them a front tabloid exclusive and make my way inside. I wade through fourth-generationtrustfundistas to the bar, ignoring the sly camera phones pointed my way.
The bartender catches my eye and immediately heads my way. “Macallan. Triple. Neat.”
He brings me the drink and I swallow it in one go. I indicate with the glass for another. When he fills it, I take a smaller mouthful, breathe through the burn, and will it to deaden my insides. Only a hint of the numbness returns. I finish the drink and am contemplating a new one, when Axel joins me at the bar.
“You know there’s a better blend reserved for you in your VIP room, right?” he says.
I slam the glass on the counter. “Too far,” I rasp.
Axel is the same height and build as me, so his speculative grey eyes meet mine full on. The shit we’ve both endured means there’s also no fear or hesitation in his eyes as he stars into my soulless ones. After a minute, he looks away. A few women dance close, try to catch his eye. He ignores them and after a minute looks back at me. “That bad, huh?”
I grit my teeth and breathe deep. “Worse.”
“Need any help?”
I shake my head. “It’s done. I have what I need.”
He nods again, but I sense his distraction. When his gaze tracks across the room, I follow it to the woman standing alone at the place reserved for Axel’s guests. She’s leaning against the railing, glass of champagne in one hand. At first sight, she seems to be just one of the many beautiful women enjoying XYNYC’s exclusive atmosphere. But at second glance, I sense her tension, even from across the room. I look past her to the two club bodyguards on either side of the lounge, blocking her exit. “If you need anything else, let me know,” Axel says, without taking his eyes off her.
I glance at him. “Looks like you have your hands full with your own situation that needs taking care off.”
“Yeah,” he growls. “Fucking tell me about it.”
I look back at the woman. She looks familiar, but my brain is too wired to accommodate anything other than the need to dig myself deeper into my abyss, wipe the last two hours from my immediate memory.
“Thanks for the taking care of the other situation,” I say.
He shrugs. “My guy at the DOH says they’ve had a hard-on for that chain of motels for a while. Greasing the right palm just…encouraged them to bump it to the top of their list. All it needed was a phone call and a few of my bodyguards to get the place evacuated.” He flicks a glance at me before the woman commands his attention once more. “Did the right person end up where they needed to be?”
I nod. “Yes.” The thought of Lucky suddenly makes my skin itch in a better way, but the underlying disgust remains from my encounter with Delilah. “Is the apartment occupied right now?”
Axel drags his gaze from the woman. “No, it’s empty.”
“Can I hit your shower?” I ask, aware that my voice is bleeding pure black void.
His eyes narrow. “Sure. Take as much time as you need. Change of clothes in the closet too. I’ll get one of the girls to bring up a bottle.”
I jerk out a nod and head for the side of the bar. I slam my hand against the AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY door and stride to the small elevator tucked in the back. The apartment belongs to the club, so technically it’s half mine, but since Axel spends most of his time in XYNYC, he uses it more than I do.
My clothes come off long before I make it to the shower. I turn the temperature to scalding, scrub myself three times in quick succession. It barely makes a dent. Bile rises again and I throw up. With a hint of unfamiliar desperation, I wrench the knob to freezing cold. The ice settles me and I welcome the shivers that race over my skin.