A Bad Boy in my life

Thirty nine | Blamed

POV: MAXON

The genesis, a cursed pack of cigarettes.

Sasha Collins, a name that's forever etched in my brain. And yeah, the bad stuff tends to stick around, doesn't it? She and her boyfriend, Tom, were regulars at Howey's Strip Club back when I used to hang there a few years ago. This was before I knew what debts were and before I had a taste of jail.

Sasha's Howey's daughter, the big shot running the place. Tom, on the other hand, used to be in some biker gang called the Vultures. But then he got himself mixed up in some illegal animal thing and became a wanted man. He didn't let me in on all those juicy details, though.

Cops had their eyes on Tom, and so did I, but for different reasons. I was curious about the Vultures, and the police just wanted to slap cuffs on him. Funny thing is, my involvement ended up getting him nabbed.

Picture this: I'm minding my own business, grabbing a pack of smokes at the store, when the cops pull me over. They show me a pic of Tom and ask if I know the dude. At first, I play dumb, but they start putting the heat on, saying I could get in trouble for messing with their investigation.

I wasn't about to screw myself over to save Tom's hide, so I spilled the beans on where to find him. Three days later, he's got a new address – jail.

Fast-forward a week, and I'm back at the club. That's when Sasha asks me to chat in a room.

Turns out, she wants me to pony up Tom's bail money – a whopping 50 grand. Why? 'Cause they're blaming me for his arrest.

Naturally, I'm like, "No way!" I'm not exactly rolling in cash, and I sure as hell ain't about to hustle for some guy's bail. But, of course, they see me as Mr. Moneybags, thinking I shower with hundred-dollar bills 'cause my old man's Dominic Stirling. According to Sasha, it's my job to cough up that insane amount to spring Tom.

When I lay down the "no" card, Sasha goes all dramatic. She starts smacking herself, saying I'll pay in a different way. So, after she's a mess with a ripped-up outfit, she storms out, telling everyone I raped her.

Yeah, you guessed it – her word against mine. But with her all bruised up, everyone's on her side. She knew that, so she went all out, cooking up a story to screw me over and lock me up.

And that's how I ended up in this whole mess.

Couldn't prove I was innocent, so I had a five-night vacation in the slammer until Karen bailed me out. Those five nights racked me up a fat debt – ten grand, my first taste.

Problem was, I'm sharing cell space with Tom, and if I didn't play nice with some dudes to keep me safe from Tom's buddies in there, life was gonna get real messy.

Since then, it's been a downhill ride. Debts piling up, doing odd jobs for Cope just to keep my head above water and pay off what I owe.

***

I stashed the bike a block away, flying under the radar.

The last time I treaded this road was that humiliating saga last year. I strolled out of the Strip Club with bracelets on my wrists, the whole world pointing fingers at me for a crime I didn't even sniff at.

Hence, my confidence wasn't exactly soaring about a triumphant re-entry. Not through the front door, not when Howey believes I defiled his daughter. Trust me, he'd cheer if I vanished off the face of the earth than darkened his club's doorstep again.

I tugged my cap down, just a bit rebellious against the world's gaze, and sauntered across the street. Then, I slipped into this narrow alley, so dark it could rival a cat's best-kept secret, where even the tiniest slivers of light were scarce.

So, I discovered a couple of things – good and not so good. The good? I stumbled on an open window. The not-so-good? That window was just my luck – the bathroom's, the highest, and tiniest one of them all.

The ordeal of clambering up and wriggling in through that window gifted me body aches in places I didn't know could ache. But I'd made it. Now for the pièce de résistance: getting to Howey's sanctum.

Orienting myself, I found myself in a suite's bathroom, once a refuge for tales I'd never share. It was a place where I once shared laughter and secrets with the enigmatic souls who danced for money.

The joint was buzzing, a perfect smokescreen for someone as slippery as me. Me and luck? Well, let's just say we're not exactly best buddies. But somehow, I pulled off a disappearing act through the years, like a ghost sliding through time, and made my way to Howey's office door without raising eyebrows.

Locked door, of course. I could've bet my lunch money on that. So, before hitting the streets, I'd stashed a couple of paper clips, just in case. Picking locks was like solving a Rubik's Cube – a twist here, a nudge there, and click!

Inside, a swift sweep of the room in the dim light. The folder was my quarry, buried beneath secrets in the third drawer. I spun around, ready to make my escape, but then I caught Howey's voice through the wall, and every inch of me turned to stone.

"Take all the time you need, Tom," Howey's voice echoed.

"Not for long, Howey." Tom's voice, dripping with intention. "You know I've got bigger fish to fry."

"What's your game now that you're out?"

Their words faded like whispers in the wind, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

"Simple, Howey. I'm hunting down that scumbag Stirling and pumping a bullet into his chest. That bastard's got a debt to pay, Howey, for what he did to me... and to Sasha."

I swallowed hard, my grip on the doorknob slackening.

Door's no go.

I cracked the room's window and checked out the scene below. It was my route back to the same alley I slipped through, hanging about five meters high – basically my only way out.

I hopped onto the window sill, balanced on this skinny ledge, maybe ten centimeters wide, spreading my arms like I was trying to take flight. With a deep breath and a dose of courage, I went for it, rolling as I hit the ground.

I rose, ankle throbbing, a pair of security guards at the alley's end. What came next was simple: I ran, no brain, just legs on fire, two shadows dogging my every step.

I hadn't come this far to get caged.

Heart pounding, feet pounding harder, every breath like fire in my lungs. I didn't care how long, didn't care about the pain in my ankle, or the air too thin to fuel my racing heart. Then, it hit me – the metallic thud of a car meeting flesh.

And then, darkness consumed me.