Annie had been inside the Zero Room for about 45 minutes. Things had seemed quiet so far. Annie had borrowed one of her girlfriends cars, an old sedan that had seen better days, but hell it beat waiting for a cab. I had parked just down the street from the club, close enough to watch the door but far enough back to not draw suspicion. We had agreed to give her one hour before meeting back up outside. I flicked out the butt of my smoke and lit up another one (I'd been chain smoking since Annie went inside) into the soft drizzle of rain outside.
It washed the water run in rivulets off the window, the streaks of month old dust and dirt pooling at the bottom of the glass. The rain trying to ash the filth off the car, off the city herself. Some places, like this one though, were simply to dirty to ever get clean again. I held my hand out into the gentle water fall, feeling the cool patter on my hand, wondering if that included me too.
I was jerked out of my reverie when my phone began buzzing. I thumbed open the screen, expecting the worst. It was a text message. From Annie. It simply read:
Sixx and Horner here. Come inside.- Annie
I rolled up the window of the car and got out. I pulled my trench coat around me and flipped up the collar, hat pulled low. This should cut down on the fact that my face looked like hammered meat right now. As I walked to the entrance I slipped my Beretta into the crotch of my pants, it wasn't comfortable but if the patted me down typically bouncers don't like to touch your balls. There was a line to get into the club but I walked around the velvet rope and told the guy to find my name on the list. I told him Franklin and slid two bills across the top of the clipboard. He smiled and gestured me through after a cursory pat down.
The music was blaring, some neo-electronic rave shit that I don't think I was ever young enough for and the patrons from the club looked like extras from a Mad Max movie. A mixture of leather and nylon, dark blacks and shocks of neon color, all writhing and grinding in a huddled mass. I skirted the dance floor and looked for Annie near the bar. I stood towards the end of the counter and fanned the crowd, looking for my Annie's distinctive shade of red in the common area. I was beginning to get worried when I finally found her. Then I got really worried. She was over in the private section, a series of tables and booths sectioned off and guarded by some heavy muscle. She was sitting at a table with several other people, mostly girls, laughing and flirting. It was the two guys at the table that had me worried. Johnny Sixx, and Roger fucking Horner himself.
I was gonna need a drink for this shit.
End of Line.