Page 9

The cops weren't gentle with me when they threw me into the tiny cell. As my body hit the hard floor, a harsh groan escaped my throat. There were four other men locked up with me; only two of them didn't have shackles. Depending on their crimes, they would have them soon enough.

The government didn't run things like the cities of old. People didn't spend time in a locked cell watched over by guards. Arrested civilians were hauled off to a judge the next day to determine how many sinders they would have to pay for breaking the law. If the price was too great, one of two things would happen: the offender was forced into servanthood to the person they hurt, or they were sent away and auctioned off to the highest bidder. A sponsor would then pay the debt to the city, and the felon would pay the sponsor back plus interest. If no one stepped up as a sponsor, the felon was thrown over the wall.

The unshackled men didn't look rich, so I assumed they wouldn't be able to pay off their debt, but if their crimes were small, they would only have to spend a few days as servants. Unfortunately, they would still have to do everything their sponsor ordered them to do. That included sex work. A servant all but lost their humanity. They were treated worse than any animal. It was well within the sponsor's right to rape or beat their servant to their heart's desire. In most cases, they could even easily get away with killing them.

After gingerly getting to my feet, I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and slumped against the back wall. There was no seating or furniture, only a single toilet in the corner. The walls were cream white, and the front of the cell was made from shatterproof glass with a few breathing holes and a sliding door that would zap a person if they touched it on the inside.

Two of my fellow inmates were chitchatting while the other two sat quietly. Thankfully, none of them paid me any mind. I was too freaked out to give anyone the time of day anyway. Hobbs didn't know exactly where I was; I hadn't even been processed yet. The cops simply stuck a key into my cuff to make the screeching stop and threw me into a cell. I knew the routine, but it didn't ease my anxiety.

Upon booking, a prisoner was given a number, and the police officers would get to you when they felt like it. When they finally did, they took the prisoner's mugshot, grabbed fingerprints, took a mold of their teeth, scanned their eyeballs, and then eventually contacted the sponsor. The police liked to drag their feet because the longer a servant remained incarcerated, the more the department could charge for their stay. Universe forbid staying long enough that the cops have to feed you. The crappy jail food was one hundred sinders a plate.

I sat on the ground for maybe half an hour before an officer stepped up to the glass. "Which one of you assholes is Starburst?"

My head snapped up in disbelief. That was odd. Why would they be asking for me by my stage name instead of my real name? Slowly, I got to my feet. "I'm Starburst."

The door opened, and the guy pulled out his taser. I froze, instinctively wincing at the sight. "Well, come on, asshole. I don't have all damned day!"

Swallowing hard, I slowly and timidly made my way out of the cell, glancing down at the guard. He was shorter than I was, but that wasn't much of a surprise. I was on the tall side, standing six feet three inches, which was yet another complaint Hobbs had about me. As if I could control my height.

"Your sponsor is here."

That was really odd. I hadn't even been processed yet. How did Hobbs even know I was here? Drawing in a shaky breath, I followed the officer down the long hall, glancing into the cells as I passed. One was empty. Another was filled with at least ten men. And the last had three women sitting in it. The cop escorted me through a wooden door, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Alex, grinning from ear to ear, stood waiting for me with his golden cane. "Ah, good. You're okay. I was so worried about you. I apologize for setting off the alarm, but I had feared you were kidnapped." He looked over to another officer. "Thank you all so much for finding him."

My heart pounded loudly in my ears. Alex wasn't my sponsor, and the police would know that if they processed me. What type of game was the club owner playing? And furthermore, how the hell did he even know I was here before Hobbs did? "Don't I have to get processed?" I asked shakily.

Alex's tone was sharp. "It's all taken care of. Now come along; you have a client waiting on you."

My insides roiled with fear that I was about to get into much more trouble if I didn't stay, but I didn't want to. Chewing on my inner cheek, I bowed my head and followed Alex outside. The moment the sun struck my face, I let out a sigh of relief that the cops hadn't noticed their mistake.

When we were several hundred feet away from the building, I broke the silence. "What's going on? What's this about a client?"

"You have no client. I simply told the police that to give them a sense of urgency."

"But I'm not registered to you. They should have known that. How did you even know where I was?"

Alex grinned. "Your friend, Vic, let me know what happened. He told me that your shackles were ringing, and I had a feeling you would get caught before you made it home. I called the nearest police station, gave them your description, and they confirmed you were there. After that, I reached out to my good friend, the Chief of Police, and fibbed that I was your sponsor. The Chief enjoys throwing office parties using my dancers, so I told him if he releases you to me, his next party will be on the house, and he will get a free VIP booth until the first of the year."

My hands balled into fists as I stared at him in shock and rage. "I don't want to fucking owe you!"

"You don't owe me a thing, Starburst. As I said before, you have already made me money. You know exactly how to get men to eat from the palm of your hand. It's a rare gift that is hard to teach."

"Hobbs is still going to be pissed."

Alex shook his head. "He's fine. I already contacted him."

"Fuck me," I groaned.

"Fear not. I explained that I thought you had been drugged. That you were okay, but I didn't feel comfortable allowing you to leave until it had worn completely off."

"He's never going to believe that. He's just going to think I got drunk."

"I took care of all of that, my dear boy. I informed him that my waiter was adamant that you only had two drinks last night. Hence, you must have been drugged."

"You just have an answer for everything, don't you?" I couldn't help the sarcasm in my voice.

"Always."

"Why?"

"I'll explain when we get back to the club. It's only a block from here."

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I surveyed the gigantic buildings that surrounded the streets. Most were clubs, casinos, bars, and food places. A few apartments were speckled in between, but the Sin District looked vastly different in the sunlight. Without all the neon lights, it was easy to forget where you were when you went out on a stroll.

Alex and I walked in silence until we were settled in his office. He stepped behind his desk and pulled out a clear bottle of brown liquid, pouring two shots for us both. He held up his glass, and I returned the gesture before swallowing the alcohol.

"Why are you helping me?"

Leaning against his desk, Alex smiled kindly. "Because I used to be you, Starburst. Perhaps I was never as famous, but I was a servant. When my sponsor found out I had a taste for men, he used me and abused me. Like you, I found myself on a path of self-destruction. I would take any drug handed to me as long as it dulled the pain I was feeling inside. Luckily for me, my sponsor had an accident." His smile turned wicked. "I was debt-free. When I saved up enough sinders to buy this place, I acquired a few servants, but I will never once force them to do anything they are uncomfortable with. Wemberly, for example, didn't want to dance, and so she pays off her debt by working in the kitchen."

My eyes shot down to the empty glass sitting on his desk. I hoped he would offer me another, but I still needed to get home, and someone might as well tattoo "idiot" on my face if I returned to Hobbs smelling of fresh alcohol.

Alex walked over to me, gently running a hand over my shoulder. The action made me tense, and he must've sensed it because he pulled away quickly. "There were times I thought about paying for your time. I would be lying if I said I didn't want you to jump on my cock and ride it like a mechanical bull. But in my eyes, that would make me no better than the man who forced me to sleep with men. I would want you to come to me of your own free will." He chuckled, "But you're so young; you wouldn't look twice at some middle-aged old-timer like me."

I snorted, "I'm twenty-eight."

He eyeballed me for a moment. "I'm impressed. You don't look a day older than twenty-one."

I grinned slightly. "My skincare routine is zazzin."

"Zazzin indeed."

"Well, thank you, Alex," I sighed. "I have to get back."

"Tell your sponsor to contact me if he has any questions. Remember our story, and everything should be alright."