MIA
Urban lights blurring together as I stepped out into the evening. The muffled hum of autos and occasional flash of horns shushed everything else as heels rang on slicked pavement in the rain. Reality reminded itself brutally of the uniform still wrapped around me—a uniform I could only get rid of too slowly—the chill bit through at the open skin. I clung to my coat, hoping it would protect me from something other than the cold. The alley stretches out in front of us, its shadows bending like hushed witnesses. My stomach told me to stay away from the main street, where inebriated customers stumbled and jeered, so I rushed down. I'd walked home alone at night before, but this was different. The club's discomfort hadn't persisted, clinging to me like a stain that refused to be washed away. The footsteps faded behind me beyond the bend. I shivered. The footsteps ceased. I turned around, my heart racing, but no one was in the alley. I was only met with the weak light of a shattered streetlamp. I berated myself, muttering, "You're dreaming, Mia," and shook my head. Keep going. But the footsteps came back as I picked up speed. Louder. Closer. My breath was stuck in my throat as I turned around. A man stepped out of the darkness, a hoodie pulled down over his face to hide half of it. He drawled, his voice smooth and tinged with bitterness, "Hey there." "We're out late, aren't we?" I stepped back, holding onto my purse. "I want no trouble at all." "Oh, I'm not trouble," he smiled. "Just a guy looking for company." A second man moved into the periphery of my vision; he was taller and heavier than the first, his hands jammed into the pockets of a tattered leather jacket. They were not the only ones. My journey was effectively cut off when two further figures emerged from down the pathway. Terror set in. Fingers tightened about my purse in a life-affirming hold. I tried to be firm, but voice shook as I instructed, "Leave me alone." A snarl of cold laughter from the initial man. Boys, hear that? She isn't looking for trouble. One of the others growled, the smile glinting in the dark, "Too late for that." I looked around, trying to spot a way out. But I was surrounded by them. When the first man moved in, my heart pounded in my ears. He spoke with a cold voice, "Let's keep it simple." "Give me the purse, my love. And the necklace. It's a pretty little thing which you don't particularly need." His hand stabbed out at me, and I gasped in shock. I knew that I couldn't escape from them, so I moved back and clutched my bag to me. "Hi." It was a commanding, forceful voice I had never heard before. The man's hand stayed frozen in midair as he froze. Two men came down the lane from the opposite way, and all four turned. These men, not like the thugs, walked with tranquil confidence, cold stare and pin-sharp suits telling them they weren't here by chance. They weren't here by accident. One of them said to them, "Go away," in a tone as casual as if he was discussing the weather. "Who are you in the hell? "The first man snarled, but it seemed he was ill at ease. The man in the suit put his head cocked to the side and smiled. You do not need to know who we are. You should know not to touch her. "She?" After the momentary uncertainty, the eyes of the thug shifted back to me, and he fell into a hysterical laugh. "You're kidding.".
She is— He was stopped in his tracks during the course of his address by the second man wearing a suit. "Last chance. Get outta here or we'll make you wish you had." Without hesitation, the loose threat hung heavily in the air. No one moved for an instant. The goons swapped anxious glances, obviously weighing their choices. At last, the leader spat on the ground and gestured toward them. He growled, "Let's go," but there was a hint of irritation to his voice. The suited men's cold glares made their braggadocio stumble as they retreated into the shadows one at a time. I breathed a shuddering sigh as soon as they vanished from view, my legs on the verge of buckling underneath me. One of the males inquired, "Are you okay? "in a quieter tone. Although I doubted whether that were possible, I agreed. Indeed. Thanks. The first of the two men came closer, his sharp eyes peering at me for an instant. Despite dust in the alleyway, the suit on the man was crisp, the black hair smoothly groomed, and his features pointed."Miss Mia?" he intoned quietly but respectfully, and I gulped in amazement. "How do you know my name?" He took a glimpse of his fellow henchman before responding, "Mr. Greaves told us to check. He requested your safe transportation home." Greaves. His voice gave me a shudder running down the backbone. My manager at the club had been needling me at all times, but to arrange henchmen to keep up with me never crossed my mind. "I didn't ask for escorts," I countered, biting sharply at words. "That comes with the package." "The streets aren't safe for one in your. position." Position? Nausea crumped my insides at innuendo. Whatever Greaves was up to, it was obvious that his influence went way beyond the club. When the second man, bigger and scarier, eventually spoke, declaring, "We'll walk you home. It's not negotiable," I opened my mouth to object, but his tone was so cold that there was no doubt. I nodded unwillingly and pointed down the main road, saying, "Fine.". But I don't live far." The two men fell into step beside me, their presence both reassuring and unnerving. The silence stretched as we walked, broken only by the occasional car passing in the distance. My mind was full of questions, but I dared not ask them; instead, I kept my eyes forward, concentrating on moving forward. A few minutes later, the taller man spoke once more. "Do you know who those men were?" "No," I said. "They just. appeared." His face hardened into a scowl as he set his jaw. Bullies like that don't act alone. They might have been sent by someone. "Sent men after them?" I raised my voice. "Who would send men after me like that?" The first man glanced at me, his eyes inscrutable. "Mr. Kennedy has a lot of enemies.". Perhaps they believed you were somebody important. I didn't for a second fall for that. More was happening here than they were letting on, but I wasn't going to push the matter with two mafia goons. As we cut my street, tension in my chest released.
"Thanks.". I spoke and ran inside, the silhouettes of the two men remaining by the street, their vigilant presence a reassurance and a reminder of the threat I could not avoid.undefinedI had no idea what game they were playing, but one thing was certain: I was now a pawn in it.