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Too Close for Comfort

Whitney

Mind Right: TK N Cash

J ust because the bosses are away doesn't mean that business comes to a halt. With King, D, and the rest of Masked Mayhem off on yet another "mission," the rest of us dancers are left to keep the club alive, anxiously hoping we aren’t struck by another attack in their absence.

Normally when I dance, I immerse myself in the rhythm and give my all to each movement, but tonight, I’m fucking distracted. My mind keeps drifting to Johnny and the brutal way Red and 13 killed him. It's a nauseating thought, one that no amount of cocaine or liquor can erase from my consciousness, and tonight I've done a lot... nothing's fucking worked.

I’m too preoccupied with my thoughts to notice as a man in a glowing white mask takes a seat before the stage where I’m performing. However, as I hook my leg around the pole and spin, using a single hand to keep my balance, I find myself staring right into his masked face as I turn back towards the club. There’s something about him that sends chills down my spine, but I force myself not to react. Without uttering a word, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out several crisp hundred-dollar bills, waving them enticingly in the air to catch my attention.

Reluctantly, I saunter over, my heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, the sound echoing ominously in my ears. Once I’m close, I lower myself before him, my legs spread wide, and I manage a smile despite knowing he can’t see my expression behind my mask.

“Come down here,” he commands in a soft, unsettling tone, patting his upper thigh as an invitation for me to sit on his lap.

Without protest, I step off the stage and approach him, snatching the money from his gloved hand and tucking it into my top before beginning my dance. As my body glides against his, alarms blare in my head, urging me to run as fast and far as possible. But just as I contemplate leaving, King and D appear out of nowhere, their eyes silently urging me to turn back and finish the dance.

Reluctantly, I place my hand on his shoulder, my skin igniting at the point of contact. He grips my hips firmly and pulls me down onto his lap, forcing my gaze to meet his while his hand ventures around my throat—a line that should never be crossed in this place. I look to King and D for help, but they seem to have vanished, and panic surges within me with each passing second.

“Don’t be scared, Raven,” the stranger coos, my stage name rolling off his tongue in a way that sends shivers through me. “All I want is a dance. I’m not here to hurt you. ”

His words only heighten my anxiety, and I struggle to maintain my composure while grinding against him, pinned in place by his strong grip. It’s uncomfortable being forced to look into his eyes while I can feel the hardness of his dick beneath me, and all I can do is fight the urge to vomit.

Still, I hold it together, attempting to remain professional, praying for anyone to come to my rescue. Just five minutes into this discomforting dance, my salvation appears in the form of Boston. She rushes over, sensing my unease, and pulls me off his lap with urgency, tearing me away from his controlling grasp.

“Um, sir, you’re not allowed to touch the dancers, especially not like that,” she snaps, her grip firm around my trembling hand.

“No harm done, Little Bird. I just wanted her to dance for me,” he replies, laughter lacing his voice as if this whole situation were amusing.

The look Boston gives him catches me off guard; fear registers in her eyes as she swiftly drags me away, guiding me towards the stairs that lead to Lux’s office. Once the door is locked behind us, we peer out from the glass, observing the masked man still sitting in his seat, unaware that we’re watching him. A chill envelops me, painful goosebumps prickling my skin, which feels as if it’s on fire.

“Who was that man?” Boston asks, her voice trembling.

“I… I really don’t know, but he made me uncomfortable,” I confess, realizing that in all my time working here, no customer has ever instilled this much fear in me.

As I glance at Boston, she’s rummaging through Lux’s liquor cabinet, retrieving a bottle of vodka. She walks over and takes a swig before offering it to me. After a few deep swallows, I hand the bottle back and let out a sigh, knowing I need to share the truth about my stalker situation. I recount everything that has been happening—the eerie text messages, the notes left behind, even the drugs I found on our coffee table.

The color drains from her face, and for once, she's at a loss for words. Then I recall her telling me about a similar incident from her past involving two stalkers that she had, but they turned out to be Lux and Donovan. But those men had her best interests at heart; the person stalking me does not, enhancing the daunting reality of my situation.

“Could it be your foster brothers?” she suggests, a glimmer of hope in her tone.

“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t act so recklessly.” I shudder, unable to tear my gaze from the man below.

“What about your ex? Could it be him?” Her voice drops to a whisper, as if the very mention could summon a ghost.

I try to appear brave, though fear is clawing at my insides. “He’s in prison for attempted murder and isn’t due for release for another sixty years,” I murmur, feeling those words tumble from my lips like poison, igniting my throat just by uttering anything having to do with him.

“Is there any chance he could be released early?”

“I doubt it. And if he were, the authorities are supposed to inform me. I haven’t received any notifications—no calls, no letters, no emails, nothing indicating his early release.”

I pull away from the window and collapse into the nearest chair, my mind a chaotic whirlwind of dread, and breathing feels almost impossible. Boston approaches and gently rubs my back, trying to soothe the panic enveloping me. I wish I could tell her that it’s not working, but instead, I remain silent, letting her believe her comfort is helping.

Finally, after what feels like hours of anxious silence, I find the courage to speak again. “Boston, what if I’m in danger? What if this masked guy is connected to him somehow?” My voice trembles with the weight of panic that refuses to subside.

Boston’s hand stills on my back, and I can feel her resolve hardening. “We need to be smart about this. You should probably come stay with me at Lux’s for a while. Just until we figure this out. You can’t be alone with this guy lurking around.”

I shake my head vehemently, my heart racing at the very thought. “And leave the club? My job? I can’t just walk away from this place and risk not being able to come back once this is over. Besides, I wasn't supposed to say anything, but I've already talked to Lux about it, and he gave me a room here to stay in until we figure shit out."

“Okay, here is better than our apartment. We’ll make it work,” she insists, determination etched on her face. “You’re more important than a gig, Raven. This is about your safety. Trust me.”

There's a long pause as I weigh my options, the masked man still visible below, his presence like a dark cloud over my mind. The air feels thick with gloom, and my instincts scream at me that he’s not simply some random guy looking for a good time.

Just then, footsteps echo through the corridor outside Lux’s office, and I stiffen, worry flooding my veins. Lux’s voice rings out, commanding and confident. “What did you see?” he asks someone.

“It was just him—no one else,” replies a voice I don’t recognize. “He hasn’t moved. But he’s not just a normal guy. Something about the way he sits there… it’s like he’s waiting for something... or someone.”

My heart races; it could only mean one thing—King and D are on to him already, and they won’t let this shit slide. Suddenly, Lux bursts through the office door, eyes sharp and alert. He barely glances at me before focusing on Boston.

“Get her out of here. Now,” he demands in the sternest voice I've ever heard come out of his mouth, and it scares the shit out of me.

“Lux, wait—” I start, but he holds up a hand, his expression leaving no room for argument.

“Raven, listen to me. This isn’t a fucking game. We don’t know what that guy is capable of, and I won’t let you put yourself in danger. You need to fucking go.”

In a daze, I nod slowly, the reality of the situation crashing down hard on me. I shoot a glance out the glass panel, and my blood runs cold—he’s still there, unmoving, like a predator waiting for its prey.

Boston interlaces her fingers with mine, tugging me towards the door. “Come on. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

"Find Havoc and Crow and have them take her to the safehouse," Lux states firmly, giving Boston a smile as he sits down and picks up his phone.

With a last, hesitant look back towards the club, my sanctuary twisted into a nightmare, I step away from the twisted chaos behind the glass and follow her out, the weight of uncertainty heavy on my shoulders.

As we navigate the winding hallways of the club, my pulse races. Every creak of the floorboards beneath my feet sounds like an alarm echoing through the stillness, leading me deeper into the glaring reality that I’m in danger. My heart pounds with each step, anxiety clawing at my chest as Boston pushes open the door to the back exit, a powerful gust of cold air hitting us as we spill into the alleyway.

"Stay close," she whispers, scanning the surroundings with caution.

The alley is dark, muffled sounds from the club bleeding into the night. Neon lights flicker in the distance, painting the walls in hues of blues and reds. The once comforting hum of the place now feels suffocating and threatening.

I glance behind us, half-expecting to see the masked figure following us, his ominous presence looming. But there's nothing—just shadows. I breathe a little easier, though dread still lingers heavily in the pit of my stomach.

Boston leads the way, her grip on my hand strong and reassuring. She guides me towards a nondescript black SUV parked towards the far end of the alley. As we approach, I can see Havoc leaning against the vehicle, arms crossed, looking like the very embodiment of cool detachment mixed with deadly intention. Crow stands beside him, his unmistakable bulk intimidating against the SUV's sleek form.

“Did Lux tell you what’s going on?” Havoc asks as we reach them, his voice low but steady.

“Not much,” I admit, anxiety creeping in again. “Just that I should leave.”

Crow opens the back door of the SUV, revealing the dark interior. “It’s not safe here. We’re getting you to the safehouse. That’s all you need to know right now.”

I nod, though I still feel a flood of questions bubbling beneath the surface. As I climb inside, I squeeze Boston's hand, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving her behind in the chaos.

“You’ll be okay?” I ask, concern etching my features.

“Just get to safety. I’ll deal with it. You’re the priority,” she assures me, a brave smile flitting across her face despite the fear in her eyes.

With an unsettling feeling of being torn between the safety of the SUV and the responsibility I feel for those still at the club, I reluctantly pull away from her grip. Havoc slides into the driver's seat, and Crow takes the passenger side, shutting the door confidently behind him.

As the engine roars to life, I look one last time at the fading glow of the club, wishing I could slam the door on my worries and lock them away. But the weight of dread settles in again, close behind me like a shadow in the night.

“Stay low and keep quiet,” Havoc instructs as we pull away from the curb, the city lights blurring past my window. “We’ll take the back roads to avoid any trouble.”

I nod, the tension in the air palpable. It goes unspoken, but we all know the implications of that masked man—it’s likely that he’s been watching me, stalking me, perhaps even lurking within the city’s depths.

Silence envelops the SUV as we navigate the streets of Boston, an eerie sense of doom settling over us. Unable to contain the whirlpool of thoughts any longer, I finally voice my worries.

“What if he’s waiting for us? What if he knows where we’re going?”

“If he’s been watching you, he doesn’t have a chance against us,” Crow says, his voice firm and unwavering.

“Lux set up the safehouse. It’s fortified, and we don’t come alone. We’re trained for these situations, and we’ll protect you, Whitney.”

I appreciate their confidence, but the knot in my stomach remains. For each comforting word, I think of Johnny, the cruel reality that death lurks too close within this line of work, and the nightmares that follow.

As we turn a corner, the SUV suddenly jolts to a stop. My heart races as I glance up, seeing the tail end of a figure in a dark coat standing suspiciously under a flickering streetlight. There’s an unsettling familiarity that pricks at my mind, but it can't be the guy from the club because he was still there when we left.

“Someone’s coming,” Havoc mutters, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Crow, check it out.”

Without hesitation, Crow leaps from the SUV, his frame hulking and tense as he approaches the man. My breath catches in my throat as I watch with wide eyes, afraid of what might happen next.

“Havoc... what if that’s him?” I whisper, my heart roaring in my chest.

“Stay calm. Keep your head down.”

I watch Crow move gracefully, eyes sharp and focused on the figure who turns to face him. The man’s face is obscured by shadows, but I can feel the tension building as they exchange words. I’m on the edge of my seat, chills racing along my spine. After what feels like an eternity, Crow turns back to us, his expression cold and unforgiving.

“It’s just a random drunk,” he states, visibly easing but still alert. “Let’s go.”

Before I can process the relief flooding through me, Havoc shifts the SUV into gear, and we’re off again, weaving through the night with a speed that accelerates the pounding in my chest.

As the city begins to fade into the distance behind me, a single thought distracts the worry clawing at my mind: the masked man. What did he want? What does he know? And more importantly, when—and if—I’d have to face him again. But for now, I push those thoughts away as we drive toward the only semblance of safety I have left, a fleeting notion that perhaps in time, I’d find a way to reclaim my life and face the fears that lurk in the dark.