He was enticing in every way. The way his body moved swiftly around the ring as I watched him from behind the bar. He was the best. And the best never loses.
When Blake Anderson gets a job as a bartender at the local fight club, Chargers, she meets...
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*Earlier that night*
I had left Blake working behind the bar to meet a client of my father's. Another mission I had to do tonight. It was small and not a big deal, but it was still the fact that I was forced into this life.
Garbus Chan was waiting by the back door where I told him to meet me earlier today. I made my way through the crowd, still feeling Blake's confused and watchful eyes boring into my back.
I saw the tall, thin man leaning against the door that led to the alleyway. Once I make eye contact with him, I nod my head, silently telling him to open the door and head out. I would be right behind him.
I had my hand on the door to the alleyway, pushing through it so my foot made contact with the grimy club alleyway concrete. The stale smell of beer radiated around me. I spot Garbus standing under the dimly lit fluorescent light a couple meters or so down from the door.
I made my way over cautiously, knowing the reputation of this seemingly harmless man. He was notorious for his gun fights, his obsession with Russian Roulette in the 90s was a bit of a warning sign.
My gun was tucked into my tight black jeans on the waist band that was secured by a belt through its loops. I had my hand in my trench coat, my fingers ghosting over the drugs Garbus had ordered from my father.
My task was simple: trade the drug for money.
"I hope you brought my order, boy." Garbus says in low volume, his eyes scanning the area in case anyone saw the exchange.
"I do as I am told." I reply coldly, not interested in what this man has to say in the least. "I wouldn't advise you to call me boy again either. I tend to have a hot head."
"Well how ironic...so do I." He says darkly, his hooded eyes and shadow covered skin made his words more intimidating.
"The only ironic thing is how I don't care. Now do you have my money or not." I scoff, rolling my eyes, I wanted to get back inside. I wanted to sip my bourbon and take her attention away from anyone else.
"Jason doesn't seem like the man to put up with an attitude like this from his son." He says with a cheshire grin. As if he knows my father.
"That's because he doesn't." I say back nonchalantly.
"Hmh. Shame." What is this guy expecting? I do as I'm told so my family keeps their lives you dickhead.
"Now, my money?" I ask once more, his time management wasn't the only thing that wasn't where it was supposed to be.
"Hand me my drugs." He demands. I laugh, I actually laugh out loud. His face turns even more sour and I genuinely think he produced more wrinkles on his saggy face.
"That's not how this is going to work. You pay, I hand over the drugs. Don't you understand how the market works, Garbie?" I taunt him just to get a rise out of the old fucker.
