Devil

Big Daddy called her Sweet Pea.

The tall man, who wore only black, had taken her in after she'd stumbled into a strip club that he owned. It was only the third visit he'd ever payed to the club, appropriately named "BD's", and he'd been sitting at the last seat of the bar counting his money when she came in for a drink, immediately flirting with his bartender, a spritely girl from Kansas named KC.

He watched passively, at first, until she paid, with a one hundred dollar bill. Clearly this girl wasn't screwing around. Big Daddy paid more attention to her after that, and she tipped a waitress with a one hundred dollar bill, and two of his dancers with the same, drawing the envious eyes of every patron. He cornered her just before she left, planning on telling her to get smaller bills or not come back. The rich ones always paid discretely, to make the regular Joe's feel better. To his surprise, the black-haired girl (with one green streak) wasn't having it.

"Aww, did you want a tip too?" she murmured, after he caught her arm. Her voice was low and sultry, and very calculated. He'd hired her at the bar on the spot, knowing that her physicalities would be good for business, and that he couldn't afford to have her as a customer. She never told him her name, so he referred to her as Sweet Pea, on a whim.

She walked in that night wearing a purple and black corset with buckles up the side, looking a little bit like she was going off to war, and a short black skirt with matching black tights, and a black necklace.

"Staring is impolite," she told him, delicately stroking his black tie. He gave her an appreciative kiss on the cheek, and ran his hand up her thigh. She made a tsking noise with her mouth, and backed away.

He considered it his biggest failure that he'd let her and his wife get too close. She wasn't a threat to their relationship, per say, but he'd always had 'fun' with the girls in his club, and he didn't want Sweet Pea to be the exception. She was getting there; she'd been there nearly six months, and hadn't let him make a single move.

He sighed, and she walked behind the bar, handing him the stack of money that the club had accumulated in the last few weeks since he'd visited.

"Have a good night, Big Daddy," she winked, and he blew her a kiss as he retreated into his office.

She worked the bar for five hours, garnering a large amount in tips. It wasn't anywhere close to the amount she'd made at the Warehouse, but it was good enough.

She had just finished cleaning the bar in preparation for the next worker (Kitty, who was always at least a half-hour late), when he walked in. The smile that had been lingering on her face from talking to Nez, the bouncer, quickly disappeared as he stood in front of her.

"Nebraska Jones," he remarked.

Finn was wearing a white shirt and blue jeans, in stark contrast with the black the men at BD's usually wore. He looked out of place, and the drawl of his accent just separated him more. Nebraska was scared, but didn't want to show it. He looked about ready to drag her out by her hair.

"Finn," she nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"I think you have something that belongs to me."

She had taken a lot of things; the money, the drug, even some clothes and a CD; but she didn't have any of it now.

"I think-" Then he did grab her by the hair, reaching over the granite bar to seize the back of her head. She worked very hard on not showing pain.

"You owe me."

He let her go forcefully, casually tossing her against the mirrored backing of the bar, which she hit silently, happy it didn't break. Some of the patrons turned around, but the girls dutifully kept dancing, and they gave their attention back to the raised platform. Nez and Big Daddy were nowhere to be seen.

Shakily, she led Finn outside to an alley behind the club. The nightlife of Los Angeles moved all around them, but he didn't take any notice, backhanding her as soon as they entered the small alley.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Nebraska had learned from the Kid, reinforced by Big Daddy, to not get up after being hit. She leaned heavily on the brick wall of BD's, trying to hide her fear. Finn wasn't known for his brutality, but looked more angry than she'd ever seen him. She wasn't proud of it, but she'd become complacent since leaving London, and had lost some of the edge that made her the Kid's favourite. She hadn't had anyone to please in LA, and it was beginning to show.

He hit her one more time, a punch to the stomach, and kicked her in the face when she bent down in pain. The back of her head crashed into the brick, and she slid to her knees, unable to stand up after the blow.

She had the sudden urge to apologise, but swallowed it with what felt like one of her teeth, as she slumped over to check the damage. Her nose was definitely broken, judging by the amount of blood on her fingers. One rib was bruised, from the punch, and she probably had a black eye after the kick.

"Get up," he ordered, and she felt the anger rising in her chest. It felt like a sudden urge to vomit.

"Fuck you!" she spat in response, holding her side as she stared at his shoes, bloody from where they had collided with her nose.

"What did you think was gonna happen?"

She struggled to her feet, determined to be standing if he chose to hit her again. In the six month's she'd been in LA, the anger at the Kid and his whole operation hadn't dissipated. She still felt persecuted, and way in the back of her mind, hated that they'd robbed her of Danny.

"I see you got a nice promotion out of it."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you right back."

They stood in that alley in silence for a moment, Nebraska still holding her side while Finn leaned against the opposing wall with his arms crossed.

"You're going back to London," he finally said.

"Why should I?"

He looked at her, sighing. She expected the easy answer to be the £12,000 or so that she owed the Kid, which could be made up for in a week or so if she worked. In the grand scheme of the business, it wasn't that much, but he would want it back.

"Black wedding," was Finn's reply.

Nebraska nearly stood up in surprise. Instead, she tapped her head against the brick repeatedly, in the hopes that she would hear something different. In their business, a black wedding was essentially a death sentence. Someone would get married and disappear forever, leaving to start a "real life" away from London. The remaining members of the operation would then spread around that he or she had died, and spread themselves out amongst the other bosses, depending on who had left.

When she looked at Finn again, she couldn't hide the tears in her eyes.

"So the Kid is done?"

He nodded solemnly. The Kid had run virtually all of London, and even some of the major cities around it. Without him, it would be chaos. Nebraska could only think of the time that he'd put into cultivating his influence, and felt a sense of loss at his departure. Finn hadn't been around as long as she'd had, but felt similarly.

"This is for you," he said, handing her a small slip of paper from his back pocket.

She scanned it quickly. Apparently he was leaving her the entire city to run in his stead. Infuriated, she crumpled the paper up and threw it on the ground. Finn left it, looking at her. She stood up straight, wiping the tears and blood away.

"Fine. We can leave in the morning."

She limped out of the alley and hailed a cab, giving him directions to her apartment as Finn climbed inside. The ride was long and arduous with the amount of traffic out at 3 AM on a Saturday. She leaned heavily against the seat of the cab, wishing for the entire night to be an oddly vivid dream.

When they finally got to her apartment, she dragged herself into the doorway and collapsed on the large couch, not bothering to walk all the way to the bedroom. She was exhausted and in a lot of pain, and quickly fell asleep, while Finn haphazardly packed all of her belongings. She really only cared about the corsets anyway.