Chapter 9

Micheal wakes up to the sound of a girl

Micheal woke up to the sound of a giggle in his room and blinked a few times. He frowned, his brain struggling to register the noise as he sat up in the large bed, the lights nonexistent in his room. The giggle sounded again and he rolled over, stretching his arm out for the light on the stand next to his headboard. The girl he had left with Alexander stood, acting as if she were drunk, near his door, legs wobbly. Her clothing was disheveled, her hair stuck out at every angle, and she could barely remain upright. Micheal bolted out of bed, grabbing the robe that hung on the outside of the bathroom and slid it on, cinched it into place and quickly made his way to her, grabbed her arm and lead her to his bed. “Sit down while I get some clothing on and figure out what to do with you.” He commanded her, trying to chase the sleep out of his voice.

He sighed, confused on how she had made her way to his room but knew not to question farther. He slowly made his way to the closet, slightly upset he hadn't gotten more sleep. He pulled a blue silk button up shirt off of one of the hangers and gray dress slacks. There was nothing in this room that was not formal or semi formal wear. He sighed, slipped the robe off, undressed from his night attire and made himself presentable before sliding on some dress shoes and exiting the large closet. Monica was stretched out on his bed, head lulling. She had some purple bruises on her shoulder and throat and he was sure they traveled elsewhere. “Hey, let's get you out of here. It's getting late.”

He reached down and grabbed her hand and slowly helped her stand. She giggled, stumbling to her feet, falling into him. “Hey handsome. You should have stayed. We could have had so much fun.” She squealed, holding onto him.

He snorted, shaking his head and supporting her weight he walked her out of his room and slowly out of Alexander's private chambers. He noticed that it was completely silent. No music resounded through the halls, no fire crackled from the main room, it was totally quiet, except for the sound of the sound of shoes on the floors. Every once in a while she would giggle and it would break the monotony of silence as Micheal and her finally made it to the last set of double doors. Monica almost tripped as the last door closed behind them and he had to almost pick her up. She traced her fingers against the soft fabric of his shirt, in between the buttons as they rounded the corner and into the main area of the club and towards the entrance.

Sarah was at the bar, enjoying an early meal and heard giggling and looked over seeing Micheal and a woman. She frowned and then hid her face in her food seeing Alexander's trademark's all over the poor girl's throat. Micheal nodded at the back of Sarah's head and continued on, passing the bar and through the dance floor and the final tunnel and saw the stairs. He groaned under his breath as he looked up, his eyes seeing the massive form and eyes watching him as he lead Monica the final stretch. “Where are we going?” She asked, blinking as if waking up from a daze.

“You are leaving,” He answered her, showing her the stairs. “You need to go get something to eat, get a shower and some sleep. That was some party.” He laughed, flashing a big smile. He knew that he had had nothing to do with her but had to play it cool.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah, we'll have to get together again sometime.” She leaned over, ran her hand over his cheek and kissed him. “You're a real Casanova.” She waved and slowly, stumbling almost every step, made her way up the stairs, past Bruce, and out the door and into the daylight outside.

Within moments of the door being closed, Bruce launched his large frame down the stairs and at Micheal, who, even off guard, had gotten faster. Micheal stepped to the right slightly, a small frown on his face. “What the hell man?” He asked, panting.

Bruce didn't answer, striking again, this time grabbing the smaller man by the soft fabric and turned slamming him into the unforgiving wall behind him. Micheal groaned, his breath rushing out from the impact, his eyes going wide. Bruce didn't speak, slamming him again, twisting the fabric hard enough a button popped and a few threads ran, and Micheal twisted, trying to break free. He panted, the grip of the bouncer's hold tight and firm from years of handling rowdy patrons. Micheal was no match against the juggernaut and was confused as to why he was catching hell when he had just brought the girl up and out.

Bruce turned and threw him, releasing him as Micheal flew across the room, slamming into a table, the wood shattering into pieces under him.

Sarah watched from the bar, knowing that if she were to make a move she would make things worse. That had been proven when she had introduced Micheal to Alexander and she refused to act as a pawn in this game unless she had to any further, even though she wanted to. If the fight came her way, she would react, but not until. She had to play it calm, cool and collected, otherwise it would make things even worse and she could not live with that; she had enough guilt on her head. She finished her drink and leaned back against the bar to watch the fight, arms behind her, elbows on the bar, legs crossed and eyes darting from one man to the other, but also to the mess that would have to be cleaned up before the club could open for the night.

Micheal lay on the table for a second, stunned and confused, blinking at the lights above his head. His shirt was destroyed, the table was destroyed, and he was bewildered as to what was going on. Bruce was already almost on top of him again and he braced himself for the next round. Bruce looked down at him, panting, his blue-gray eyes cold and devoid of any emotion other than rage. “Why?” Bruce, growled out, picking Micheal up once more from the table scraps. “Why you?”

Micheal was confused. “Why me what?” He managed, putting his arms up and somehow managing to slip out of his ruined shirt.

Bruce stared at the fabric in his hands, then at the man in front of him. “Alexander, you. Why did he choose you?” He was deflating quickly, the anger almost fading into pain. “I've been here twenty years. Loyal, and he's never once looked my way. You come in here and your first night you get chosen.” He growled again, tearing the silk shirt and throwing it on the ground then turned and slammed his large fist into the wall next to Micheal's head. “Get out of my sight!” He snapped, before storming away down the hall.

Micheal flinched and watched the large frame disappearing down the hall, looked over at Sarah who shrugged at him. He walked over and grabbed what was left of the blue silk shirt and turned heading back for his chambers, not wanting to be looked for and not be there. He was afraid of what the consequences could be, plus he really wanted a shower. He hoped there would be food for him as well, but after what had just happened to him, he hurt all over and a shower really sounded good. He figured he might even be able to squeeze in a little more sleep if he were lucky. He really hoped he was lucky. He started down the hall and back towards the stairs.

Before long he was down the stairs and through the doors that lead to the main hall of Alexander's private chambers. He sighed, hearing the music and the fire and dread crept through him and he had a feeling luck was about to run out. He slowed his steps, trying to keep his steps quiet, trying to let the music drown out his walking cadence but before long the velvet voice let him know that he had been found out. “Where have you been?”

Micheal stopped, swallowing the lump that appeared in his throat and turned, knowing he had to look a mess after the beating he had just taken. “I took the girl to the surface and came back,” he answered, facing Alexander, who was propped in the door frame of Micheal's bedroom.

Alexander frowned. “Yes, I believe that. And it seems that you met with some sort of problem, hmm?” He asked, trilling on the hmm. He studied the blue tatters in Micheal's hand with disdain. “What is that?” He asked, pointing with a long finger.

“A shirt.” Micheal was short in his answer, now wishing he had trashed the fabric before he had returned. He knew that his skin had to be bruised, he felt it all over and the longer he stood the more he could feel his body protest. He looked at the tatters in his hand and shrugged. “It's seen better days.”

Alexander nodded slowly. “Uh huh.” He answered slowly standing up from his perch from the door way. “Did she see her way out?” He asked, eyes flitting over Micheal's shirtless body, taking in the bruises and red marks.

“Yeah. I told her we had a great time and I hoped to see her back. She needed to go rest, eat, and get a shower,” Micheal explained, wishing he could step past the all seeing glare he was receiving and into the safety of his room.

“Very good. Who did you meet after she left?”

“I uh....”

“Don't you tell me no one or I will be very angry.” Alexander's velvety voice dropped a full octave and his eyes became dark. “You tell me and I will not become cross.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, which was dressed in a white dress shirt, and leaned against the wall.

Micheal sighed and resigned himself knowing if he did not speak now he would yet again get a lashing and he was unsure if he would hold up. “Bruce.” He swallowed the large lump trying to choke him, as he watched Alexander's brows knit.

“Bruce?” Alexander laughed. “That brute?” He shook his head, his hair dancing behind him. “He has no class. Jealousy again?”

Micheal frowned, “Again?” He was confused but was not about to let on his discomfort on the matter. Clearly this had happened before and he wondered why he was now in this position. He blinked and stared as Alexander chuckled.

“Yes. Again.” Alexander's voice had calmed, his laughter shining in his eyes. “You are not the first one in your position.” He stated with a shrug. “Bruce has wanted it for a very long time but lacks a certain je ne sais quoi. He's like a bull in a china shop at times.” He smirked. “And I also have to have a certain type on the floor with me for this job. You fit the bill.” He chuckled again. “Get a shower. I will have lunch brought to you. Depending on how you look you might miss your shift. I cannot have my guard looking like he was hit by a truck. I will check on you in a few hours.”

Micheal nodded, thankful to hear he was at least getting a little bit of a break. He was even more surprised to hear that he might not even work tonight. He sighed, not happy to think he would miss a full night's pay but he could definitely use a little extra sleep. He watched Alexander push off the wall and disappear down the hall before walking into his own room and hitting the showers. He winced as the water hit abrasions he didn't know he even had and felt the hot water working it's magic. He spent a long while letting his thoughts run with the water until he felt like his legs would no longer support him and got out, dried off, and climbed back into his pajamas and back into the bed. Sleep welcomed him quickly, the beating having exhausted him more than he had thought.

Author's Note

short chapter, ignore grammar issues, rough draft.