So What?

Chapter 5: Stitches.

The trip to the club is long and I feel relieved as I step out of the car. This is the first time I've been here this early. It's like 1 pm. I greet the security guards in front of the door before they let me in. Walking inside, I spot Christopher at the bar. I walk past him and head to the locker room. As soon as I enter the locker room, I drop my bag on the chair. I feel a presence behind me and I turn around.

"Hey." Christopher says, smiling as he stares at me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him and he just stares at me.

"You dropped this when you came in." He says, handing me my makeup purse.

I collect it from him, his hands still lingering on my skin.

"Ahem." I cough, trying to signal him to get his hands off me.

"Sorry." He tells me, folding his arms.

"Can I help you?" I ask him as I catch him staring at me.

"I'm gonna head back." He tells me and I nod, waiting for him to walk out of the locker room. He steals another look at me before he leaves.

I don't know what that weird shit was about.

***

"Vegas." by Joseline Hernandez booms through the speakers as I work the pole. Various men whistle and throw money at me, some even pour liquor on me.

"That's right, nigger. Work that pole." The old white man in front of me says and I stop dancing.

"What did you say?" I ask him, getting down from the stage.

"I said work the pole, nigger." He slurs in my face. Grabbing the bottle of Don Julio's 1942 beside me, I hit him on the head with it. The bottle smashing into pieces and I feel the sharp glass cut my finger.

The music stops as the man drops to the floor and I just stare at him. I feel someone's hands on me and they pull me away from where I am standing. The bouncers surround the man and I finally turn my attention to the person pulling me.

It's Christopher.

He leads me to a room upstairs. Even though I haven't been here before I know it's his office. The huge painting of him that hangs in the middle of the room kinda gave it away.

I feel something wet dripping down my thigh. I look down and see blood on my fishnet stockings. My severed finger starts to spasm.

"Come on." Christopher says, holding my waist as he pulls me to the bathroom. He hoists me up on the sink and I start to cry.

"I just killed a man." I tell him.

"No, no, no. None of that now." Christopher tells me rubbing my thigh.

"I'm sorry." I whisper as my hands start shaking.

"Let me see." Christopher says, grabbing my right hand. I hiss as he touches my index finger

"It's a deep cut. We need to get you to the ER." He says, letting go of my hand.

"No, I can't afford that." I tell him, shaking my head.

"I'll never make you pay the bill, c'mon." Christopher says, staring at me.

"Christopher?" I begin about to reject.

"Let me." He says, placing his hands in the space between my thighs. His green eyes staring into my brown ones.

"Fine." I tell him.

Thirty minutes later we're in the emergency room and I'm squeezing Christopher's arm. I'm sure he's lost all feeling in that arm with the way I squeezing it.

"One more deep breath." The surgeon says as she stitches my arm.

"Ouch." I cry out.

"She's almost done, Jaz." Christopher says, sounding out of breath. I stare at his hand and I see how red it is now. I let go of him and he laces his fingers with mine immediately. I stare at him and he doesn't stare back. His gaze is still fixed on my finger.

I feel the needle pierce into my skin and I let out a loud scream. The surgeon dips a cotton swab in a white liquid before she rubs it over the wound. She wraps my hand with a bandage.

"All done." She says, smiling at me.

"You're free to go. Whenever you're ready." She tells us before she leaves the room.

"That wasn't so bad." Christopher says, smiling at me.

"Says the one who didn't get four stitches in his finger." I tell him.

"I've had seven actually." He tells me, showing him a scar on his palm.

"How did that happen?" I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

"I fell down when I went hiking with my sister. Landed on a screwdriver, palm first." He says.

"Shit. That must have hurt." I say, running my finger through his palm.

"Like a bitch." He quips.

"Well...we're twins now." I tell him, placing my injured finger in the middle of his palm.

"I guess so." He tells me and I smile at him.