“Yes?” said the girl with purple
streaks, Murdoc was broken from his thoughts as he noticed that he had reached
their table with out knowing it.
“Umm…um…yes, hello…” he
couldn’t seem to form words at first but quickly found his tongue. “Is this
seat taken?” he asked as suavely as he could in his gruff voice. “Actually, it
is.” She answered “Oh.” He said as he began to turn away. “But, you can sit and
have a drink with us…Murdoc.” Replied the one with short spiked hair, “While we
wait for our friends. By the way name’s Nydia and this is Rozanna.”
“How did she know my name?” he thought; Rozanna answer that question for him. “We noticed you,
noticing us. Vodka, right?” “Yes, but how did you…” Murdoc began to ask but was
cut off by Nydia “we know more than you think.” She smirked as their drinks
came. One of the bartenders came with their drinks, “Will the others be coming
tonight?” he asked. “Yes, Alma and Rubé will be here shortly,” answer Nydia.
“They had other business to take care of.” Rozanna purred to no one
particularly, but looked at Murdoc when she spoke.
As if on cue their told
friends sat with them. One sat right of Rozanna, the other left of Nydia.
“Sorry we’re late, the hippie couldn’t find her strings.” Said the one next to
Nydia, “Hello Murdoc.” She had auburn shouldered length hair similar to Rozanna
yet without streaks and a shade darker, and her eyes were a smokey brown that
were surrounded by a pair of black-framed glasses. She wore a camouflage jacket
over a black t-shirt with a pair of black jeans that had seen better days,
which covered what looked like a pair of black doc martens.
“Hey, you know I can’t leave
without my strings,” protested the “hippie” who was almost as tall as Rozanna.
Her eyes had a deceitful glow, that disguised something sinister at first
glance, but this whole group all had that deceitful look. “I’m Rubé, by the
way, and the one with the Buddy Holly frames is Alma.” “Hi. But, why do you
know about me?” he asked again. “Because we have interest in you and your talent.”
Rubee answered.
“They must be in a band or
something; maybe that’s how they know about me,” he thought, “Are you guys in some fuckin’ band or something?”
Murdoc asked smirking.
“We are not interested in
your bass skills,” Alma said as she looked straight into his bi-colored eyes,
“we are talking about your other talents.” “What are you…” he trailed
off as the seriousness in her voice and eyes seemed to have sent her meaning of
his “other talents”. “Are you interested?”
“It would be nice to have
another member in our little group,” Rozanna remarked, “even if you are new to
the game” Nydia added, “and you are the other sex; but it’ll be interesting,
never the less.”
“And what exactly is this ‘little group of yours’ then?” he asked
still smirking but listening.
“As Alma said before we all
have other talents,” Rozanna gestured around the table, “Involving
pain and other matters.” she said with no emotion. “I’m listening.” His eyes gleamed
as he heard the word pain. “What kind? Emotionally? Physically? What?” The four
girls looked at each other and made a silent agreement. Nydia was the first to
speak, “We all have our own specialties.” She whispered looking at each of
them. “One thing we all have in common in our little group here is we are quite
skillful in playing God.”
Murdoc looked into their
faces as he listened, each had a small smirk yet a different gleam in their
eyes. Rubé’s was as of a mad hatter’s yet concentrated; Rozanna’s gleam
seemed predatory, ready for the kill; Alma’s gave a harshness, and Nydia’s
black void for eyes shone with content.
“Here”,
Rubé
slid a yellowed envelope towards him, on the front of it was
written his name. “If you are interested come to the address, ten o’clock
tomorrow, come alone.” With that they
rose from their chairs “I hope this won’t be our last meeting.” Rozanna said in
her airy voice. The femme fatales’ left the table in silence and disappeared into
the club’s darkness.
Murdoc watched as they left, again not finding
his voice for a while, until they disappeared into the club’s darkness. When he
did find his voice all he could say was “Fuck.” He didn’t know what was
in for, but he knew, he had to see them again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pick your poison:
<-Chapter Two or Chapter Four->
Or