"You sure this shit is pure?" growled a young man with a blue mohawk. He looked at the small bag of white powder and eyed the young girl suspiciously.
She took a drag from a cigarette between her lips and grinned at him from the shadows, "This is the best stuff you will ever have, guaranteed." She flicked the ashes and snatched the bag away from the man.
"Hey," he started, "What if it isn't, then what do we get?" his friend, with the spike collar finished for him. He eyed the girl and reached out to rub her bare, pale arm.
"You get a refund,” she said bluntly stubbing the cigarette out against the brick wall. "Now show me some cash." She leaned against the wall on her arm, her long dyed blonde hair falling over her shoulders; the dark brown strands standing out here and there. Her dark, deep blue eyes shone confidently as she held the baggie firmly in a death grip.
The two guys growled under their breath but produced large numbered bills. They handed them over for their bag, the guy in the spike collar saying, "You're lucky Piers recommended you, Angel, we don't usually take shit from little girls."
"No, I bet boys like you force shit from little girls." she mused counting the bills and stuffing them into her right combat boot. "Well, you know my number if you want more."
With that she walked out of the dark alley and back towards the sound of pounding techno music. The large man on the outside of the building opened the doors for her and she walked under the glowing Mavericks sign.
She ran her painted black nails through her hair as she made her way through the crowd, men watching her and she went behind the bar.
As she scanned the room, she noticed her boss glance at her meaningfully, and she gave him the sign that the deal had gone down well. He smiled at her and returned his attention to his beautiful companion.
Her amazing faint blue eyes sparkled out from the halo of brown hair with scarce blue streaks, framing her face; the strands falling just above her shoulders; the chopped edges brushing her delicate skin. Her petite frame was pressed against his and he kept an arm around her possessively. The brunette kept smiling at Corbin when he would speak to her, but anyone could see it was a forced smile. A worn out smile.
Her eyes were alive with a sort of innocence that had been taken away years ago, but still attempted to convince their owner of otherwise. She had a sense of loyalty to her possessor.
He was the owner of the club. He was the owner of most clubs. He kept the underground world stocked and racing. He kept Angel in a job.
Angel smiled grimly to herself and began pouring drinks for the masses surrounding the bar. She winked at young men and pointed out young women and whispered conspicuously with the women about the young men.
The young brunette looked up to Angel and smiled at her. She whispered to her possessor and he nodded. She stood up and walked over to the bar with small strides; her skirt hugging her body with more suggestion than most women would dare.
"How ya living Emmy?" Angel asked handing her a drink, on the house of course.
"Can't complain," she sighed.
"Never do, anyways." Angel smiled, but it was brief. A fleeting shimmer of beauty in a crowd of homeliness.
Emmy glanced at her over the rim of her drink. Straight vodka. Angel never asked what anyone wanted, she just knew. It was like an innate sense, to be able to tell what it was that people were craving.
She was, of course, Mavericks most popular bartender.
"How’s the world from your point of view, Angel?" Emmy smiled ruefully as she leaned against the bar, and looked straight into her friend's perfectly dark blue eyes.
Angel nodded as she busied herself pouring drinks and slipping the occasional baggie under a glass, extra bills being slipped back to her. "Wonderful, baby." She answered. She kept trying to brush her hair off her shoulders and finally got fed up and tied it back with an elastic band that was around her thin wrist. Black spiked bracelets glinted in the flashing lights of the club.
She caught, out of the corner of her eye, Emmy glancing back towards Corbin. She stood up straight, picked up her drink, and was gone, a goodbye unnecessary.