Page 11 of Poison

After gingerly getting to my feet, I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and slumped against the back wall. There was no seating or furniture, only a single toilet in the corner. The walls were cream white, and the front of the cell was made from shatterproof glass with a few breathing holes and a sliding door that would zap a person if they touched it on the inside.

Two of my fellow inmates were chitchatting while the other two sat quietly. Thankfully, none of them paid me any mind. I was too freaked out to give anyone the time of day anyway. Hobbs didn't know exactly where I was; I hadn't even been processed yet. The cops simply stuck a key into my cuff to make the screeching stop and threw me into a cell. I knew the routine, but it didn't ease my anxiety.

Upon booking, a prisoner was given a number, and the police officers would get to you when they felt like it. When they finally did, they took the prisoner's mugshot, grabbed fingerprints, took a mold of their teeth, scanned their eyeballs, and then eventually contacted the sponsor. The police liked to drag their feet because the longer a servant remained incarcerated, the more the department could charge for their stay. Universe forbid staying long enough that the cops have to feed you. The crappy jail food was one hundred sinders a plate.

I sat on the ground for maybe half an hour before an officer stepped up to the glass. "Which one of you assholes is Starburst?"

My head snapped up in disbelief. That was odd. Why would they be asking for me by my stage name instead of my real name? Slowly, I got to my feet. "I'm Starburst."

The door opened, and the guy pulled out his taser. I froze, instinctively wincing at the sight. "Well, come on, asshole. I don't have all damned day!"

Swallowing hard, I slowly and timidly made my way out of the cell, glancing down at the guard. He was shorter than I was, but that wasn't much of a surprise. I was on the tall side, standing six feet three inches, which was yet another complaint Hobbs had about me. As if I could control my height.

"Your sponsor is here."

That was really odd. I hadn't even been processed yet. How did Hobbs even know I was here? Drawing in a shaky breath, I followed the officer down the long hall, glancing into the cells as I passed. One was empty. Another was filled with at least ten men. And the last had three women sitting in it. The cop escorted me through a wooden door, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Alex, grinning from ear to ear, stood waiting for me with his golden cane. "Ah, good. You're okay. I was so worried about you. I apologize for setting off the alarm, but I had feared you were kidnapped." He looked over to another officer. "Thank you all so much for finding him."

My heart pounded loudly in my ears. Alex wasn't my sponsor, and the police would know that if they processed me. What type of game was the club owner playing? And furthermore, how the hell did he even knowI was here before Hobbs did? "Don't I have to get processed?" I asked shakily.

Alex's tone was sharp. "It's all taken care of. Now come along; you have a client waiting on you."

My insides roiled with fear that I was about to get into much more trouble if I didn't stay, but I didn't want to. Chewing on my inner cheek, I bowed my head and followed Alex outside. The moment the sun struck my face, I let out a sigh of relief that the cops hadn't noticed their mistake.

When we were several hundred feet away from the building, I broke the silence. "What's going on? What's this about a client?"

"You have no client. I simply told the police that to give them a sense of urgency."

"But I'm not registered to you. They should have known that. How did you even know where I was?"

Alex grinned. "Your friend, Vic, let me know what happened. He told me that your shackles were ringing, and I had a feeling you would get caught before you made it home. I called the nearest police station, gave them your description, and they confirmed you were there. After that, I reached out to my good friend, the Chief of Police, and fibbed that I was your sponsor. The Chief enjoys throwing office parties using my dancers, so I told him if he releases you to me, his next party will be on the house, and he will get a free VIP booth until the first of the year."

My hands balled into fists as I stared at him in shock and rage. "I don't want to fucking owe you!"

"You don't owe me a thing, Starburst. As I said before, you have already made me money. You know exactly how to get men to eat from the palm of your hand. It's a rare gift that is hard to teach."

"Hobbs is still going to be pissed."

Alex shook his head. "He's fine. I already contacted him."

"Fuck me," I groaned.

"Fear not. I explained that I thought you had been drugged. That you were okay, but I didn't feel comfortable allowing you to leave until it had worn completely off."

"He's never going to believe that. He's just going to think I got drunk."

"I took care of all of that, my dear boy. I informed him that my waiter was adamant that you only had two drinks last night. Hence, you must have been drugged."

"You just have an answer for everything, don't you?" I couldn't help the sarcasm in my voice.

"Always."

"Why?"

"I'll explain when we get back to the club. It's only a block from here."

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I surveyed the gigantic buildings that surrounded the streets. Most were clubs, casinos, bars, and food places. A few apartments were speckled in between, but the Sin District looked vastly different in the sunlight. Without all the neon lights, it was easy to forget where you were when you went out on a stroll.

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