A sense of helplessness overwhelmed James as he made his way out of Rick’s apartment building. His friend’s theory, although farfetched, could well be correct. It would not be the first time that somebody rich and powerful used someone to achieve their objective, and it would definitely not be the last. Nonetheless, it was only that: a theory. Rick had no evidence to back up his claims. Unwilling to believe it or be consumed with speculation, James decided to put it aside. In a matter of minutes, he would be reunited with Olivia at her workplace; that thought alone was enough to put a smile on his face.

Sadly, though, as he crossed the street, he couldn’t help but notice a feminine figure, inside the bar, pinned against the glass front of “Jodie’s” club. An average-height young man was in front of the woman in question, with a smug look on his face, his arms over his head and his palms against the glass. Another tall, slender redhead was standing behind him, screaming at him. A few men were next to the bar, watching, but none of them seemed willing to intervene. As he reached the sidewalk, his ears were filled with Olivia’s familiar voice.

“Ryan, get the hell out of here!” She cried. A split second was all it took to make James’ blood boil in his veins. His girlfriend’s terrible predicament enraged him. An intelligent man like him knew very well that a fist fight in the club could cost Olivia her job. So, he opted for another approach. He gently pushed the door open, his gaze locked on Ryan, drawing Olivia’s attention. The fear in her eyes sent his adrenaline into the ozone layer. James strolled up to them and folded his arms across his chest, as if he was trying to intimidate Ryan with his sheer size.

“Achem…” James cleared his throat to get his attentin.

“Something you wanted?” Ryan groaned, looking up at him. It was then that his temper erupted. James unfolded his arms, reached towards Ryan and grabbed him by the wrist. He dragged him across the floor, but, before making it to the door, Ryan threw his other arm. James ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. He pulled the door open and jerked him outside. Clenching his fists, he threw his right arm, rotated it in mid-air and laid a thundering blow to Ryan’s jaw, sending him fifteen feet across the road, into the path of an oncoming car. The driver stepped hard on the brakes. Tires screeched, as his vehicle was brought to an abrupt halt. The left front wheel stopped inches away from Ryan’s head, as he moaned in agonizing pain. James cast one last glance at his defeated opponent, his chest pumping up and down.

He turned around and returned to the bar, only to discover that he had just become a local hero. Indeed, most of the bystanders were applauding and cheering for him. Before he could even scan the club and start towards the bar, he caught a glimpse of Olivia out of the corner of his eye. She hurtled towards him, jumped onto him, and snaked her arms around his neck, her weight almost knocking him off balance. James opened his arms and grabbed her in midair, as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you so much…” She spoke, her voice broken as she tightened her grip.

“Are you alright?” He asked, and found himself short of breath as her scent flowed into his lungs.

“I’m fine now.” Olivia claimed, slowly pulling back. She smiled at him, as their gazes met. “Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

“I’m just glad I was here.” said James, his voice soft as he eased her down on the floor.

“Let’s get you a drink.” She suggested. The redhead had already seated herself, when he hopped on a stool close to her.

“I’m Gina Myers.” She said, with an appraising look in her eyes as she offered her hand. “I’m Olivia’s friend.”

“Best friend,” Olivia corrected her, pouring whiskey in a tall glass.

“James Farrell.” He introduced himself, shaking her hand.

“I’m officially impressed.” Gina admitted. “That little jerk had it coming for a while now.”

“That’s true.” Olivia sighed. “He’s been bugging me for weeks.”

“How’s life on the mountain?” Gina attempted a more mellow tone. “I hear it’s pretty rough.”

“It takes a little bit of getting used to.” James spoke his mind. “It’s really great, though. No noise, no traffic...”

“No girlfriend.” Olivia teased him. “Are you going back tomorrow?”

“I’d like that, but no.” James maintained. “I’m meeting someone tomorrow morning. Michelle Adams. There’s a good chance I’ll work with her.”

The two friends glanced at each other. Olivia bit her lower lip, trying hard not to laugh; to no avail. In a matter of seconds, she burst into loud, hearty laughter, clutching her stomach, whereas Gina covered her mouth with her hand, giggling.

“God, no …” Olivia chuckled, shaking her head sideways. “No way.”

“What did I say?” James wondered, puzzled by their reaction.

“Michelle Adams is a twerking queen. Her videos are…” Gina faltered, “quite offensive.”

“What’s ‘twerking’?” The curiosity in his voice evoked Olivia’s profound amusement. She laughed even harder, banging her hand against the counter. However, the glare James turned on her soon made her laughter die away. She returned it with a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry.” She stated softly, a hint of embarrassment in her voice. “Twerking is a type of dance. Girls shake their hips and squat…”

“… In a sexually provocative manner.” Gina stepped in and finished her friend’s sentence. “It’s popular these days.”

“I don’t think you’d tolerate her for a second.” Olivia continued, as she spoke her mind. “She looks like a total slut; she talks like one, and …” she paused. “She’s just not singer material, in my opinion. Not to mention, all she keeps singing about is sex.”

“I don’t understand,” James complained. “Why would they want me to write anything for her?”

“I don’t have a clue,” Olivia said. “YouTube is full of her videos. I’ll show you when we get home.”

James did not need to watch many videos. As a matter of fact, he only managed to watch the first two minutes of the first video, before requesting Olivia to stop it. She was right about everything; Michelle was a 5’7”, voluptuous blonde, dancing around in skimpy outfits, shaking her ass, squatting up and down, singing in a voice that was too deep. She sounded like a narrator of a sexual fantasy, rather than a singer. Furthermore, the lyrics were offensive and kept mentioning female and male genitalia. Olivia laughed at the video, but James’ face remained stiff for the duration of it.

“Ass, pussy, dick, tits… Oh, man. This is not singing. You shouldn’t be in this business. You belong in a strip club, not in the music industry,” James thought quietly to himself.