CHAPTER ONE -KAILEY
Finally, after a ten-hour shift in the ER, I could relax on my birthday. It was sweet that the other nurses threw me a party between sutures and car-accident victims, but the real party started in about an hour. My best friend, Brianna, knew exactly how stressful my life could be, so she decided to throw me a party at Pistols, the hottest nightclub in Detroit. It was the spot where everyone went. It was rare that I could go because I always got stuck with the overnight shift on the weekends. Either way, I was looking forward to celebrating my birthday in style. Pistols was going to be insane, and I planned to look hot.
I jumped in the shower and did my normal exfoliate, cleanse, condition, and moisturize routine before I got out and applied my lotion and perfume. I towel-dried my hair and walked into my room to pick out my bra and panties for the night. It was my birthday, and I fully expected to get laid. Though most men didn’t really give a shit about the underwear I wore, it made me feel sexy and confident to put on something pretty. I grabbed my go-to hot-pink lace thong and matching push-up bra, threw them on, and stared at myself in the mirror. All my hard work at the gym was finally paying off; my ass looked amazing.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I smiled when I saw a group text from the girls. Our birthdays were like a freaking holiday. We counted down the days, hours, and minutes until blastoff. I pressed the button and read the message to myself: 30 minutes until kickoff, bitches!!
I laughed as I tossed my phone on the bed and pulled my birthday dress off the hanger on my closet door. It was dark turquoise, which complimented my bluish-green eyes. I slipped the dress over my head and pulled it down over my tits before posing in the mirror. It was spandex, with a plunging neckline, and hugged every single curve, exaggerating my cleavage. The hem came down to right below my ass. I admired myself in the mirror, grinning at how sexy I looked. I went back to the bathroom to work on my makeup, deciding that this night called for a little glow. I put on the good stuff I saved for events, keeping it simple and not too thick before dabbing cherry-flavored lip gloss on my plump lips. My hair fell in perfect beach curls, so I added some gel to make it stay through the night. Perfect.
Just as I had slipped on my wedges and grabbed my clutch, I heard my Uber honk outside. I hurried from my house, locking the door behind me and shuffling down the walkway. As I stepped up to the car, I saw my driver check out my legs. I shrugged, taking it as a compliment. He would think about me later tonight, when he was alone in his room, desperate for a release.
“Where are we headed?” he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Pistols, please,” I said in a singsong voice. I pulled out my compact and checked my makeup one last time.
“Oh, fancy nightclub,” he said, trying to make small talk. “Meeting some friends?”
“Yep, it’s my birthday,” I replied with a smile.
“Happy Birthday!” he said excitedly.
I pulled out my phone and flipped through my emails, hoping to not find one informing me I was on call tomorrow. I jumped through hoops to get a Friday night and Saturday off, and I did not want that ruined. Luckily there was no such email. I happily threw my phone back in my clutch and focused on the night ahead.
I lived outside the city, so it took about twenty minutes to get to the club from my house. When we pulled up, I saw the girls standing outside on the sidewalk with balloons and birthday sashes.
“Happy Birthday!” they said collectively as I curtsied to them on the curb.
“Here,” Brianna said, walking forward in her stilettos and putting a hot-pink “Birthday Girl” sash over my head. “The princess must wear her sash at all times. I didn’t bring the tiara because of last year’s debacle with Ann Marie’s hair. It seriously took three hours to get that thing untangled.”
“Well, maybe the birthday girl shouldn’t have been giving head in the bathroom of the club,” I whispered so only Brianna could hear.
“That is very true,” she laughed. “Okay, you’re all set. Let’s go get our table and have some drinks!”
We flashed our ID’s to the bouncer and strutted into the dark nightclub. The music was loud and it vibrated through my chest. I bit my lip and winked at a group of guys who were standing by the bar, staring at our group as we walked by like supermodels. I looked up as our promoter friend, Timmy, came toward us, waving and holding a clipboard. He came right toward me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and pressed his lips to my cheek.
“Girl!” he squealed. “You look fabulous, just fabulous.”
“Thank you,” I said, twirling in a circle for him.
“Okay, ladies, right this way,” Timmy said, gathering the group and leading us to our table.
There were three bottles of vodka and carafes of orange juice already set up. Screwdrivers were my absolute favorite. We went to town immediately, pouring drinks, talking loudly over the music, and scoping the dance floor for any hot men to claim. Brianna stepped in front of me and smiled, waving her finger at me in a come-hither style.
I grabbed my phone and tossed my clutch to one of the other girls, following Brianna onto the dance floor. As the vodka began to take hold and the music surged through my body, I leaned back and danced to the beat. My hips swayed back and forth, and I ran my hands over my body, biting my lip at a guy across the room.
As the club started to fill up, the temperature rose, and I couldn’t help but feel sweat dripping down my neck and between my tits. Brianna winked at me as some hot Latino man gyrated his hips behind her, grabbing her stomach and pressing her ass against his crotch. I laughed and gave her the thumbs-up sign, feeling a bit dizzy from the alcohol and the balmy temperature. When the song ended, I walked off to the side and fanned myself with a flyer, trying to cool down. I glanced over my shoulder at the side door and walked over to the bouncer, whispering in his ear that I needed some air. He nodded his head and told me to knock when I was ready to come back in. He opened the door and then quickly shut it behind me.
I stumbled slightly into the alley and let out a deep breath as the air dried the sweat on my body. I could hear the usual sounds of Detroit and shook my head, feeling thankful that I decided to buy a little house in the suburbs. As I went to knock on the door, I heard shouting at the other end of the alley. I looked down toward three people standing there. They were screaming incoherently, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to see more. Something about the situation felt wrong. I grabbed my cell phone, scooting back and hiding behind the dumpster. As the argument escalated, I watched as one of the men pulled something from his jacket pocket. It was dark, so I couldn’t see it right away. By the time I realized what it was, he raised it in the air and pulled the trigger, shooting the woman in the head.
As if I were watching in slow motion, blood splattered all over the wall, and the woman’s body fell backward in a heap. I nearly screamed, bringing my hand up and covering my mouth as I dialed 911 on my phone. My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely press the right numbers.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Yes,” I whispered not wanting the shooter to know I was here. “I am in the alley next to Pistols, a man just…”
At that moment, I could hear sirens. Suddenly a police officer yelled out, chasing after the two men. They ran straight down the alley in my direction, and I froze, dropping my phone on the ground as they raced toward me. I put my hands in the air and backed up against the wall as they ran up to me, staring me straight in the face before the officer lunged forward and tackled one of them. The other guy ran down the corridor and into the street. I stepped back and watched the policeman wrestle the killer to the ground and pull his arms behind his back, handcuffing him and standing up to check on the victim. It was no use; she was already dead.
“Are you okay?” the police officer asked, looking at me with concern. All I could do was shake my head yes as the killer growled at my feet.
Whatever answer I gave, I wasn’t okay. I was far from okay.