Brooklyn, NY 1976
"I killed our baby. I killed my baby and he'll never forgive me for it!" Kimberley's eyes burned good with tears. She stretched her eyes wide for clear vision. She could smell the storm brewing as she glanced down at her cheap watch. It was almost ten and her heart was beating at an alarming rate against her chest. She pressed her back against the warm, brick building looking up hopelessly in the empty night sky.
She pressed her hand to her heart and in that moment, it shattered. Her sore legs threatened to give out, but she knew she had to keep running. Running. Running would be her only means of survival. One tear rolled under her chin, followed by another. In a flash, thunder sounded and her emotions washed down on her as did the roaring storm.
She had to make it in time to her home before her father noticed. Kimberley closed her eyes for a mere second and stumbled over the jagged edges of the sidewalk. Desperate to remain unseen by nosy onlookers, Kimberley lowered her head as she ran and turned a corner to the familiar street her apartment rested on. She wiped her face with her sleeve, drenched in the aftermath of the storm. She tip-toed up the stairs to her door, 205, and slowly turned her key in the door.
She peeked through the door as she opened it agonizingly slowly. Allowing a relieved sigh to escape through her lips, she slipped through and closed the door shut.
A deep, taunting chuckle sounded through her ears. Kimberly jumped back, her head smacking into the door at the scare. She'd been caught. She lowered her gaze to her father sitting in a chair he pulled from their tiny dining room. His arms and feet were crossed as he looked at her through his dark lashes. Her throat felt like it had a block of brick in it. She couldn't speak. She could barely swallow.
"I won't ask you again." His tone was unforgiving, void of mercy. She knew what to expect next. She prayed to God for a break, but she knew he would never look down upon her again for her abominable sin.
"I...I- dad-" she moved, cowering into the corner as he slowly stood up from the chair.
In a flash, he unbuckled his belt and removed it. "You were with that criminal again? That fucking greaser! Weren't you? Answer me Kimberley!" With one stride, he lunged forward and whipped his belt against her thigh.
Kimberley wailed and screamed, taking off and running up the stairs.
"No! No dad, I wasn't." She lied through her teeth to save her life. She felt his belt lash against her back and her eyes poured with tears in response. The jolt of pain stinging her back was enough to cease her movements. She felt his unrelenting grip around her ankle, pulling her downwards.
Kimberley begged for mercy, forgiveness, all falling upon deaf ears. "I told you not to mess with that dago! You're a whore now huh? You want to be a dago's whore?!"
His sharp nails dug into her flesh and Kimberley screamed in agony. Her cries for help were not heard. She knew no one was coming to save her. With her other leg, Kimberley kicked his abdomen, making him stumble down the steps. Swiftly, she continued running up the stairs. She didn't dare run directly out into the open. She made a sharp turn to her bedroom, slamming the door closed. She cringed at her mistake, but she was running out of options, places to hide in this small apartment.
Kimberley shuddered at the sound of her father's footfalls. He was close, and that meant danger. There wasn't anything she could do. She couldn't lock the door because he took the locks out. The only thing she could do was brace for impact. Her door busted open, slamming into the wall. Kimberley shook her head, her tears blocking her vision as he grabbed a hold of her arm, surely leaving a bruise.
"Stop, please stop!" She cried. With her other free arm she grabbed what she could to throw at him.
Blinded by anger, her father's main goal was to destroy her. She confessed her offense. She swore she would never run off to see Dom again. None of that mattered in the moment.
Her father was going to break her.
She threw pens, notebooks, cups, everything and she was awarded with welts, bruises, slaps. She tasted the blood on her cut lips as she felt around for something heavier to throw.
Picking up what felt like a glass vase, Kimberley hurled it against his head and ducked as the monster before her dropped instantly to the floor.
She froze, her hands on her head as she looked, mouth-agape at her attacker. He was unmoved, still, like a chair or a potted plant. Blood trickled from the side of his head, leaking onto the carpet. His grip on his belt lessened, his fingers twitched. A puddle of blood surrounded his head, and Kimberley's body convulsed with stricken fear.
She felt nothing. Kimberley looked down at shards of glass now painted with blood.
It was a symbol of what her life had become.
She couldn't stay, she had to flee the scene. She did the only thing she could do, run.
With her duffel bag slung over her right shoulder and just enough money for her next bus fair, Kimberley walked up to a familiar doorstep. Her teeth chattered, her face wet with tears, her heart void of hope, she stood awaiting her fate.
She heard the sound of locks being taken out and a sliver of hope crossed her. The brown-skinned woman wrinkled with age opened the door swiftly at the sight of Kimberley. There was a concerned crease in her eyebrows as she raked over the young girl's disheveled form.
Her touch was warm, despite the coolness in the air and the ice laced around Kimberley's heart. The elderly woman took her hand and urged her to step inside her home.
Kimberley rested her head against the woman's shoulder, closing her eyes tight as she combed her fingers through her curls.
"I can't tell you. I can't tell you what I've done."
Las Vegas, Nevada 1986
Kim was on her knees in a hurry to collect her money. The next girl would come soon to start her dance and she wanted to be out of the way before a heel flew off and smacked her in the forehead. A man in his late forties, Frankie, made gestures with his hand towards Kim. She batted her fake eyelashes at him and curved her lips into a smirk. "You know I can't, Frankie…"
"One thousand! One thousand if you come home with me, eh?" His buddies behind him laughed, encouraging his harassment. With a polite, yet flirtatious smile, she turned down his offer. Of course, this was just the usual.
"Oh come on beautiful, I'll give you money. I'll give you however much money you want!" He threw both of his hands in the air as Kim sashayed off the set. She rolled her eyes once off.
She's never gone home with a customer. On any given night, regardless of who rained money on her as she slid down the pole, she always made it back to her own bed. Frankie was a regular at this particular club. Kim worked here three days out of the week and out of those three days, She never missed his face. She only tolerated his harassment because he contributed greatly towards her earnings.
In her sparkly high pumps she designed, Kim maneuvered around hungry stares to the back where she could touch up her makeup and get ready for her next dance. It was three in the morning now and she was beyond exhausted. Still, you never knew who could walk through those doors.
Famous athletes, gangsters, brooding businessmen, legitimate or dirty; it didn't matter to Kim - she just wanted the money. Ten girls were working tonight. It was a slow night for a Thursday in Vegas, which was a bit odd. In this particular club, The Kitten's Chamber, there were a lot of opportunities to make money.
If you had enough energy to last into the early morning, you could leave with more than you thought was possible.
The song changed and the unrelenting beat was enough to snap Kim out of her daze. She saw Sally, one of her coworkers with strawberry blonde hair and large ample breasts, providing a lap dance to a big, burly man. He had a cigar drooping from his lips and his entourage of men counted money infront of him. He wore a fedora hat and a silk suit. His name was Tony, also a regular at this club.
Below the stage, Kim saw a couple more girls roaching on the floor, collecting bills that men rained on them. She rolled her eyes hard every time she witnessed such a routine. Kim didn't think she was better than any of the girls here tonight, but there were just some things she had too much pride to do.
Kim made eye contact with a man who'd just entered the club. He squinted his eyes to get a good look at her as he withdrew his cigarette from his lips. He was strikingly handsome. His hair was a dark brown and his eyes hazel in color. He had a clean, shaved beard and a mole on his sharp jaw. He was the only man who entered that wore gloves.
Kim looked at him through her eyelashes. He screamed danger, and Kim knew she had a bad habit of being attracted to dangerous men.
Other girls also began making sexual advances at men entering the club. His eyes then swung to the other women working, probably getting a feel for who he wanted to spend his money on.
She wondered if he'd pick her for the VIP room. She even wondered if he was into black women. She could manipulate those that did find her desirable, and fulfill the fantasies and fetishes they had for women like herself. The man whose look was now engraved in her mind entered the VIP area, flicking his gaze towards Kim once more before disappearing.
Entering the back room, Kim counted all the money she'd made so far.
"Five-hundred. Not bad." She said. But not enough either. She looked into her little hand-held mirror as she re-applied her mascara and lipstick.
The sound of giggling could be heard entering the room. Brianna, the only other black dancer walked in. She was a bit of a cocky one. They'd performed a couple of dances together, worked similar schedules, but for some reason, were never close.
"Come on, Chanel. You got a VIP room." Brianna used her thumb to point behind her. One hand was on her trim waist and she popped her gum obnoxiously.
Kim smirked. "Be there in five…"
Kim hoped it was that requested her service. It was much easier to perform when the customer was attractive.
She saw the club manager pointing at a staff member's chest repeatedly, mouthing off threats. His crooked nose was flared and he was turning red in the face. Benny was a bald, short tempered man. He had a birthmark on his cheek the size of Texas, and jagged teeth that mimicked an animal predator. He wasn't the most flattering man to be around, but he was powerful and protected. All of Joey Scissors' men were.
Benny gave the young man a light smack before telling him to fuck off. She almost snorted. If she were to keep track of how many times these Italian business men smacked around others, she'd be ten times richer.
The young man nodded his head, relieved to go piss his pants in private. The sound of multiple gunshots split through Kim's ears and bounced off the walls of the night club.
A large swarm of people immediately erupted into an erratic panicking of fear. Kim watched in shock as she heard the horrific screeches of her girls as well as tables and chairs being trampled over by the stampede of people attempting to save their own lives.
Blood splattered all over the black walls, and Kim watched as all three security guards dropped to the floor within the second they were hit. She watched one dancer trip and get shoved to the ground.
Adrenaline finally kicked in and rushed through her once frozen body. "Fuck!" Kim felt trapped. Everyone was fleeing out into the open and didn't think to run towards more discreet exits. She remembered there were exits in the VIP rooms. She made a B-line to the closest one.
Kim froze in place like a deer in headlights.
Benny was being held in a brutal headlock, with a clean stainless steel revolver, that had a tuscany leather grip, pressed roughly into his temple. He struggled, but this broad shouldered assassin was stronger than him.
Kim noticed the studs on his cashmere lined gloves gleaming in the light, before he fired his sturdy weapon without hesitation. A shiver ran through her body as she watched her manager drop to the floor as though his life was completely meaningless. The assassin was no longer in sight.
She dropped to her knees and crawled faster than she ever thought possible to the VIP room. Once in she stood up to run towards the exits but her arm was yanked back and held against her. A hand quickly covered her mouth before she could scream. She squirmed and tried to wiggle free but her kidnapper's hold was impossible to escape.
"Let me go!" Her pleading screams were turned into muffles.
"Shh, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm hiding too." Gradually, his hold on her lessened and he let her go. Kim ran to the opposite side of the room and stood behind a low sofa.
The man she assumed to be her attacker stepped back with his hands in the air to show he was harmless. It was then that Kim noticed the sound of gunfire had ceased outside the room. She also took note of the man's appearance.
He was average in attractiveness but tall in stature. Kim guessed him to be Hispanic with his tanned skinned and dark hair. He wore a yellow, slim-fit dress shirt and grey slacks. He wrinkled his dark eyebrows and his slender nose pointed upwards as he watched her. She saw him rake up her form slowly. It was unbelievable in the situation at hand.
His eyes then shifted to the exit sign. "Come with me to my hotel. How does two hundred sound?"
"I'm not a prostitute, asshole." She spat at him. Instead of going towards the exit, Kim headed towards the door she came in.
The man crossed his arms and laughed, shaking his head he said, "I still requested a dance."
She was sure by now everyone evacuated from the building. Police would be arriving soon and she needed to go back and collect the money she earned for the night.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The man asked following Kim to the door.
"I left my bag and I'm going to get it."
He tossed his head back and chuckled. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me. Sweet thing like you risking to get shot up-"
"Come with me and I'll go home with you." He stopped laughing and lifted an eyebrow at Kim, questioning her proposition. She rested her hand on her bare hip, her lip still quivering from the trauma but her eyes piercing his with certainty.
Kim's eyes adjusted to the ray of light seeping through the cream-colored curtains. Her eyes wandered about. She was in a spacious hotel room. A chandelier dangled in the middle of the room which was the first object to catch her eye. The walls were a dull orange color and two sofas were placed across the room, a TV a few feet away.
Drifting to last night's events, she remembered how she got here. Kim's eyes lowered to the man whose face was buried in her breasts. His eyes were closed and he slept peacefully. His long eyelashes didn't bat once as she began combing his hair with her purple, press-on nails. As she promised, she went to his hotel room after he helped her collect her bag.
She didn't have sex with him, she just danced for him and serenaded him like she would've in the VIP room. He then added an extra bonus for her if she rubbed his favorite womanly fragrance all over her body and let him cuddle her. It was a strange request but it got more money in her pocket.
Her mind couldn't help but drift back to the shooting last night. It was the second time she'd seen death. The first time, she witnessed the death of her father. A bone-chilling feeling ran down her spine just remembering it. But it was a different experience. He died by her hands. She'd killed him and she hadn't repented. Up to now, Kim was still living with that sin. She even ran away to Nevada to start a new life. It'd been a bumpy road since then.
Carefully, Kim lifted the man's arm and rolled out from underneath him. She zipped open the larger portion of her bag and pulled out her tailored shorts and tank top, as well as a fresh pair of underwear. After showering, she dressed and slipped on her sandals.
She spent the whole night with this man and didn't even know his name. Still sound asleep, he snored softly. She went over to his nightstand and picked up his wallet. She made a quick glance over to the snoring gentleman to be safe. Johnny Hernandez… she said reading the name on his driver's license. Memorizing his name, she pulled out enough dollars for the cab fare.
Kim didn't live lavishly, but she didn't live cheap either. She lived on the outskirts of the major city, far away from where the major attractions were. The best part about leaving work was going to her cozy apartment.
Facing her door, Kim was met with a notice from the landlord. It was a reminder for her to pay the upcoming rent. Paying rent wasn't a big deal but investing money into a shoe business on top of that was the real struggle.
Kim ripped the notice from her door and crumbled it up, throwing it into the trash on her way in.
There were boxes everywhere. Sketch books, fabrics, wood, glue and nails were scattered all over her floor. She had to get to work again, but this time, doing something she was more passionate about.
Kim made herself some eggs and counted her money after breakfast. "760." She smirked and threw the stacks of bills onto the table. "Now I can get this geyser off my ass." She crossed her arms and shook her head. She looked down at the newspaper she forgot to throw out. It was from a week ago.
"Massacre of 7: Vegas killers known."
There was a picture of two olive-skinned men wearing fedora hats and expensive suits. Kim didn't dare to read on. Last time she remembered, it was an exaggerated story of how the suspects were tied to a mob.
They also mentioned a man named Joey Scissors a couple times but there wasn't any evidence to link him to the crime. As far as Kim's heard from others, Joey scissors wasn't part of the mob, he just made things happen.
The house phone rang and Kim walked to the stand next to the couch. "Hello?" She answered. "Kim! It's me, Angela." Kim knitted her eyebrows. It was Angela from work.
"Are you okay? Girl, what happened at the club is all over the news stations and paper!" Her thick accent soared through the phone. Kim smiled as if Angela could see her. Angela was just a year older than Kim and recommended her for the job. She was from Colombia and came to the United States at thirteen. Just like every girl that worked at The Kitten's Chamber, She had a dark past and had been hustling to get by. Every now and then they called to check on each other.
"Angela I'm alright, I was able to escape. Thanks for checking on me."
"You should have called, Chica!"
"Can you find it in your heart to forgive?" Kim chuckled. She could sense Angela rolling her eyes now.
"Fuck you. Anyway, They think it was a hit from a gangster. You know our club is shady. It's owned by that man, Joey Scissors."
"They do say he makes things happen." Kim replied, not even being surprised if he had something to do with this. She's never met him, but she didn't have to. He was always the talk of the city. Power did that for anyone.
"I've talked to some of the girls from the club and they say Benny was a close friend of his. Shit, don't get me wrong Chica but if I was there, I would've tried to get a good look at the shooter."
"Are you crazy, why in the hell would you?" Kim asked. She knew Angela to be into things like this, but she was just talking crazy now.
"Are you kidding?! You go to Joey scissors with news like that, he'd make you a millionaire overnight!"
"Angela, you're doing it again." Kim muttered. If she didn't stop her now, Angela would go on and on about gangsters and murder and her superstitions.
"...Maybe I'm exaggerating."
Kim placed the phone securely between her shoulder and ear. She opened one of her kitchen cabinets and pulled out the last bottle of her expensive wine. These days she began drinking earlier and earlier in the day. It was just one in the afternoon and she felt like she needed a buzz.
"How do you know so much, Angela? About all this...gangster business." She asked, laying on the couch, swinging her legs onto the cushions so she can rest her head on the arm rest. She drank directly from the bottle.
She smiled as the alcohol graced her taste buds.
"Gee, do you live under a rock?"
"You know I couldn't give a rat's ass about the mafia."
"Well, I just keep up with the papers."
"You eat up everything they say?"
Kim chuckled and closed her eyes.
"Say one of the bystanders last night actually saw the shooter's face and told Joey scissors. Do you think they'd come back with something in their hands?" Kim asked, curiously.
"There's no guarantee. But knowing me if I did, I'd try my luck. "
"I gotta go." Kim ended the call and rested the phone over her chest. She opened her eyes and realized the situation she was in. She saw the shooter. Infact, the shooter's face was engraved into her mind. She remembered him well. He was the only one to enter the club with black gloves, with studs as the stitch. He wore a mask when he blew Benny's head off, but she didn't need to see his face then.
She could go to the police with this little piece of evidence, but she could also go to Joey scissors as well. After all, it was his club. She could even get a couple favors from him.
Kim thought of what Angela had said.
She turned on the television and of course the nightclub shooting was being reported. Even through it all, Kim was relieved she escaped
with her life and some cash.
"Police still on look out…"
The news report became background noise as she continued to drink and feel her body succumb to the sensations of relaxation.
Brooklyn, NY 1976
"Does your father know you visit here so often?" Ms. Elaine asked me, a knowing tone in her voice. Kim crossed her arms in defiance and raised her chin as the older woman welcomed her into her cozy home.
"Some girls my age are out doing who knows what with who knows who. Me? I just want to master the art of shoemaking- "
"Lord have mercy, that's enough child." Elaine said, waving off Kim's rambling. She beamed with a bright smile, happy to get her way. After school she'd sneak off to Ms. Elaine's apartment to watch her make pretty shoes. Today, Kim hoped she had the time to teach her how to make her first pair of heels.
The idea of making shoes was mind boggling to her.
"How's it coming along?" Kim looked up at her mentor, cutting the piece of snake-skin fabric accordingly. "I think I'm doing this right, Ms. Elaine. I'm just trying to remember the instructions." Kim swallowed hard, unknowingly displaying her struggle.
Elaine chuckled and crossed her arms, staring down at the young girl. "Sometimes it's not all about following the rules, Kim. The type of shoes you make is a reflection of your personality, your creativity. Remember that."
Kim glued the six-inch heel to the bottom of the shoe and smirked. "I can conquer the world in these heels."
"You'll be practicing your walk in those heels so make sure it's up to par." Elaine told her. Kim nodded her head, focusing on her work. She had to make sure these shoes were a success. She didn't want to embarrass herself in front of her mentor. These four months she's spent time with the older, wiser, woman, the stronger their bond became.
Ms. Elaine was like the mother or grandmother she never knew. She taught her how to be a lady, how to clean and look after herself. Kim used to feel a whole in her heart that she thought could only be filled by her biological mother, but Ms. Elaine stepped in and gave her that motherly support she needed.
Kim glued the snake skin to the side of the shoe and measured another piece she cut out. "Ms. Elaine, do you think I can become a shoemaker like you?" Her head was lowered and her eyes were fixed on her creation as she spoke.
Elaine put both hands on her hips and smiled, wrinkles formed around her mouth. "You have the ambition and creativity of a bowerbird. Let's see you make more shoes and I'll give you an answer."
Las Vegas, Nevada 1986
It was two in the morning and Kim secured her black, leather bag over her shoulder as she walked out the nightclub. She'd gone to the other club she worked at and signed up for full-time since the other one was currently shut down for investigation.
The streets were still lively and the light pollution aided in the city-life scenery. She saw two men staggering out of a bar across the street. Both were visibly drunk but tried to help each other not fall over and vomit. She saw girls being picked up by men in their shiny, fast sports cars and giggling as the obnoxious men spew lewd comments their way.
She wasn't even surprised to see older men even gambling in the corners.
On the same street she walked on to call the cab, her eyes caught the sign of a nearby bar. "Red Bar." Kim whispered. "Dammit, why does that sound so familiar?" She asked herself.
She closed her eyes for a split second and then it came to her. This is the place Angela always rambled about. The Red Bar. This is Joey Scissors' chill place. Kim smirked and bit on her bottom lip.
The cab driver opened the door for her and she thanked him as he closed the door. She looked through the window at the bar.
It was mostly men that entered the bar. Most of them looked like regular customers. Those customers that came for their late night beer before going home to their girlfriends or wives.
It was the ones hanging outside of it that caught her attention. They smoked cigars and gave each other sly hand shakes. Some leaned over to whisper in each other's ears and passed money to each other with wicked grins. Kim lifted her eyebrow in peak interest.
"Dead cops aren't good for business." Lucas criticized his friend on the other line.
Dominic dropped his luggage bag on the floor with a thud and loosened his tie. He looked down at the hotel telephone and raised an irritated eyebrow at his biggest critic.
"He said he wanted to make a statement. I don't give a fuck anymore." Dominic smoothed down the invisible wrinkles in his tie, cocking his head to the side as he did.
"You know you can't come back to New York until the chaos is sorted out with the feds." Lucas said again. His warning was boring Dominic to sleep. "I needed a vacation anyway." He replied, snorting at the end.
"Don't go kicking off your shoes yet. You have to meet with Joseph Colombo for your next contract. He's a very important business tycoon, so don't screw this shit up."
"I'm aware of the details. I'll find him."
"I hear the whores are exceptional. But be careful. They'll rob you blind." Lucas joked.
Dominic smirked as if Lucas could see him. "I like whores." Just like that, the line went off.
Dominic let out a much needed sigh, lying down on the silk sheets. He covered his face with his hands and slid them down until his fingers graced his prickly chin. Here he was, at the Four Seasons hotel in Las Vegas for the next couple of weeks.
He'd been to Vegas a couple times but never for an extended amount of time. He'd actually been to many states and cities to carry out his assignments but his last assignment warranted the most amount of time off.
He'd assassinated two important politicians back to back. It was a bloody and messy state of affairs. "Shit," he cursed, feeling his eyelids getting heavy with sleep. He couldn't sleep on the flight and yet he still had more duties to carry out.
He needed a cold shower to wake him up. "There's more sleep after death, they say." He chuckled cruelly and began stripping himself of his clothes.
Dominic nodded to a few onlookers as he entered the club. He took off his dark shades and put them in the breast pocket of his silk, plum colored shirt. He felt holes burning into his back as he pulled out a chair and took his seat. He looked down at his watch.
It was almost one in the morning. He wanted to meet with Colombo and then take a whore to bed right after. He leaned comfortably in his chair and rested his head on his thumb and index finger. He accidentally made eye contact with one drunk man stumbling over to him. Dominic sat up as he held eye contact with him. He glanced behind the man and saw a table of cigar-smoking gentlemen in the back. Smoke filled the room and so did discreet chuckling.
"This man needs a beer!" The drunk man pointed at Dominic and ordered the bartender to serve him. He glared at the drunk man for blowing his low profile. The strange man had a short goatee and thick eyebrows. He sported a pot belly and was sweaty too. About to wave off the bartender and proceed to ask his question, Dominic was cut off.
The strange man leaned in to Dominic and snorted. "You see that broad over there?" He pointed his thumb backwards in the direction of a woman sitting still on the side of the bar. He could barely even stand.
Dominic's eyes were on her. Compared to the other women in the bar, she was the most dressed up. Her silk, royal blue dress hung to her curves and contrasted graciously against her dark, brown skin. Her profile looked familiar. Nonetheless, He swung his gaze back to the man. "'Been asking around for Joey Scissors. Ain't that something?" He asked Dominic, knitting his eyebrows together.
Dominic couldn't give a damn, but maybe if he entertained this man's conversation, he could get closer to finding Colombo.
"Who's Joey Scissors?" Dominic pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit a stick with his lighter.
The man chuckled, showing his crooked and discolored teeth.
Involuntarily, Dominic averted his gaze to the woman in the corner again. From this angle, he could see the swell in her petite breasts. His eyes traveled up her slender neck to her supple, two toned lips. They were pressed together as she watched impressively at an older man trying to sweet talk her. Something about her was familiar, but he shook it off. That was never a good sign.
One thing was for certain, she had men straining their neck just to look at her. Others were less polite and gawked at her openly. She didn't seem to care at all. A woman like her was probably used to this attention.
"He's the man in charge, owns this bar and the seat you're sitting in right now." Dominic smirked and locked eyes with the drunkard. "Is his name Joseph Colombo?"
Just as he asked his question, A man entered from red beaded curtains. He was a large, stout man. He had olive colored skin, black hair that was balding in the center and was very unpleasant to look at. He had tiny eyes and large lips that weren't proportional to his face.
It only took him a few strides to get to the bar. Dominic picked up how he and the black woman made eye contact. She turned away from a one-sided conversation and focused on the gentleman before her. The longer Dominic started at the woman, the more captivating she became. Her name was at the tip of his tongue.
He stared at her hard. Maybe she got the feeling he was because she locked eyes with him for two seconds before averting her eyes elsewhere. In those two seconds, her identity became known to him.
Dominic turned to the drunk that was still slurring his words to him. "Joseph, they call him Joey. You know why they call him Joey Scissors? It's 'cause he stabbed and killed one of his men with Scissors once."
Dominic felt a tightness in his chest for a split second. He pinched his cigarette and drew it away from his lips. He released a puff of smoke. What is kimberley doing here? He asked himself.
Bars were more than money-making operations, These hang-out spots were places where gangsters could meet, conive, and exchange favors. He didn't even know how legit this man infront of him was.
Dominic's eyebrows lowered as he watched the bigger man walk Kimberely towards the beady curtains, where darkness waited on the other side. She had something valuable to contribute to this Joey Scissors, that was the only explanation he could think of.
His eyes traveled from her trim waist down to her backside, watching the sway of her hips. She walked as if she owned the place. Kim teased a man effortlessly.
Welcome to the first chapter of my new book! It has a bit of a slow start but the ball will get rolling next chapter.
I've never written a character like Kimberley, so I'm excited to write and witness her character development at the same time.