This band rocks. The company isn’t bad either. Angelique and I are sitting next to each other on red vinyl seats that run around the perimeter of the club. The table in front of us is littered with bottles and empty glasses. Underneath the table I run my hand up the inside of Angelique’s thigh and under her short skirt. A goofy blond front man croons quietly from the stage, “I’m a killer, cold and wrathful.” Angelique is into it, her eyes are closed, she is swaying a little. I move her panties aside and she moans, biting her lip. The singer is whispering and the music beats through my fingers, “Silent sleeper, I’ve been inside your bed.”

            “Who is this band?” Angelique asks in a gasp.

            “Ludo,” I answer. God she’s wet, she’s leaning against me with all her weight, totally vulnerable as I slide my fingers deeper. She bites her lip harder, drawing blood. When she comes, she closes her eyes and makes this noise like total surrender in the back of her throat. Like her soul just left her body. I know because I **** her all night last night. She moves my hand away and grabs me around the back of my neck, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I can taste her blood. I might have to sit here for awhile.

            Yesterday was the best day of my life. I killed a man. And I’m different now. I even have new clothes. Angelique picked them out. She says I look like Brad Pitt in Ocean’s Eleven. I hope that’s the case. Everyone should try killing someone, it changes you, gives you a better appreciation of what the **** is going on around you. I’m a killer. And I’m with Angelique. Oh man, she’s crazy, but in the most beautiful, exposed, and touching way. Last night, in between **** and drinking she told me her whole life story. Did I mentioned I **** her like six times? Jesus, her ****, it’s little and tight and round and so **** amazing. The guy’s singing, “I want you stuffed into my mouth, hold you down and tear you open.” It’s twisted, but feel like that, “Live inside you,” he sings, “Oh, Love I’d never hurt you,” God, this band rocks! Angelique digs it too, she’s still leaning against me, bobbing her head, sipping a Jack and Coke. She’s so light, she makes me feel bigger and tougher. Like I’m suddenly her antithesis.

She’s sweet really, she’s had a **** up life. Her mom was a heroin addict. I’ve never known one, but I guess it’s pretty bad. She used to get really high and forget to feed Angelique for days. And when she couldn’t get a fix she would beat the **** out of her little girl. Shirley killed her when Angelique was nine, got her drunk and then shot her up with enough heroin to end it. That’s when “Papa and Auntie” stopped getting along. It was cute how she said it. It was cute how she told the whole story. Sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs, like an energetic kid talking about her favorite Christmas. I’d be riveted and then I’d realize she was talking about her father leaving her with a slobbering Mafia goon who told her things like, “your papa said to touch me here, you wouldn’t want to disobey me and upset papa would you,” while Wright did ‘business’. I guess after the murder Shirley tried to take Angelique from Wright and all hell broke loose.

            “It was tough for him,” she said, “he was a single father after all. And being the son of Santo Trafficante Jr, it was even tougher. He had to impress people. I couldn’t tag along and ruin things.” Here she had taken a big swig of vodka straight from the bottle, without even flinching. I found out later that Wright was actually the illegitimate son of Santo and an Irish waitress. When Angelique was in high school one of her father’s goons got her pregnant. Angelique had her first abortion at fifteen. She was eighteen when Bobby raped her. Her father committed her at nineteen and she’s been at the Palms the last two years. She wasn’t clear on why she was committed, but it involved a knife and Wright’s, um… well, you know. She loves the guy though, that’s what I can’t figure out. She’d tell me one of these horrible things, then I’d put my arm around her to comfort her, and in seconds I’d be inside her soft, soft, pussy, sucking her hard little nipples while she drained me dry. I guess it was a little messed up, but what hasn’t been the last few days?

            “Captain!”

            Angelique’s voice pulls me out of my music trance and I look up to see a tall, pudgy bald guy in a gray suit walking toward us.

            “Sorry, Sweetie, I had some business in back. I hope the girls took care of you.” He extends his hand to her. She slides out of her seat and gives him her sweet, delicate hand, which he kisses. My body wants to hit him, I swear my mind didn’t think of it. Maybe it’s love, a reflex like that.  

            “This is Toby,” she says with her hand on my shoulder. I shake the man’s hand and I think I hear a few bones crack.

            “Ah, the infamous,” he smiles and motions for us to follow. I have no idea what that means but I ponder it the whole way to the Captain’s office.

            The office is a stark contrast to the lavish club. A bare white room with linoleum floors and an old metal desk. ‘Easy to clean’ is honestly the first thing that pops into my head. I’m starting to think like a killer. The Captain sits and Angelique sits across from him. I stay standing behind her. It feels better.

            “Let’s see it,” the Captain says. Angelique grabs her bag and pulls the black folder out of it.

            “Papa didn’t tell you what it was?”

            “Nope, just said I’d be interested.”

            “I haven’t looked yet. I love the suspense,” Angelique is breathless. See, she’s a sweet kind of crazy. The Captain opens the folder. It’s a document, looks legal. I peek over Angelique’s shoulder, but all I can see is the word DEED. The Captain seems to be reading carefully. When he looks back up there is a Glock 19 with a silencer in his face.