Miss Vengeance

“Omen! Goddamnit! Are you ready yet?” KC yelled, leaning on the kitchen counter, checking his cell phone. “Jesus H. Christ,” he mumbled as an afterthought of sorts.

Missy put her feet up on the table as she checked her facebook from her phone. “She’ll be done eventually. Damnit, KC if you fuckin poke me again.”

KC leaned over the table to poke her in the ribs while yelling, “Omen!”

Missy jumped and gave him a glare just as her red-haired friend bound down the stairs.

“Keep your panties on,” she told KC, smacking him in the chest.

He grunted and followed Missy out the door toward his pickup. The ride to the strip club was filled mostly by KC’s speakers bleeding metal and the occasional commercial. When they pulled into the parking lot down the street, Missy felt Omen stiffen.

“What?” Missy asked as her and KC both turned to look at Omen in confusion.

“That guy down there,” she pointed toward the entrance of the strip club, “he looks like Synyster Gates.”

Missy chuckled. Sure, Avenged Sevenfold was in town, but leave it to Omen to think they’d just happen to be in the same club, the same night they were. At least, Missy hoped they werent. Then again, she was with Omen, who was doing an exceptional job at showing why her nickname suited her.

KC chuckled, the sound deep and rough and warm, “Omen, we’re probably not even in the same part of the Cities as they would be.”

Omen huffed, opening the door and stepping out into the humid August air. Missy followed her as KC waited for them in front of the vehicle. They made their way down the street toward the bright, colorful lights of the club. Missy started to bob her head to the beat as they got closer, earning her a chuckle from KC. KC high-fived the big bouncer at the entrance as the three of them walked in.

And there they were. All five of them. Right by the stage. Maybe he wouldn’t notice her there? She hadn’t seen him in a while. Maybe he just wouldn’t say anything? Who the fuck am I kidding? She thought. He’ll know.

Fuck.

Omen stopped suddenly in front of her, grabbing KC’s shirt and pointing with her other hand. “I told you,” she stated.

Missy turned to the bar, the woman behind it already setting an energy drink down on the counter as Missy passes her a five, then laid three ones on the bar as a tip. Omen walked by the bar, leaving KC to buy her one drink minimum.

Missy watched, horrified, as Omen touched the Rev’s shoulder. He turned to look at her, and so did the rest of them. As Omen talked, she gestured over the Rev’s shoulder, in her and KC’s general direction.

“Do you think she’s fangirling?” KC asked from her elbow. She turned her head to look up at him.

“More than likely,” she answered sarcastically. Omen, perhaps, had a little anti-social personality disorder, and it was more than a little tough for her face to change expression, let alone “fangirl”.

“Jesus, Omen is…”

“Missy?!”

Fuck.

“Hey, Zacky,” she waved awkwardly, lifting her Monster to her lips.

“Jesus, Missy, what the hell are you doing here? You live up here now? I thought you were a state over. Who’s he? Who’s she? Why the hell are you here?” Zacky stood up so fast he knocked over his chair.

Missy moved her eyes over him. “You really wanna talk, here?” she gestured to their surroundings. The dancer on stage cleared her throat nervously.

Zacky walked quickly toward her, grabbing her hand and pulling her out the side door onto the sidewalk. KC and Omen right behind them, followed closely by the Rev, Synyster Gates, M. Shadows, and Johnny Christ.

“Why are you in a fucking strip club? Who the fuck is he?” Zacky was on her again, gesturing angrily to KC.

“Well, I’m here, with KC and Omen,” she pointed to them respectfully, “And he’s my damn cousin. Zack, breath.”

Zack ran his hand over the back of his head and down his neck.

“Hey, Zacky,” the Rev spoke up from his shoulder, “Who the fuck is she?”

“She’s my sister.”