Priest
“Come on baby, just dance with me for a little bit.”
I roll my eyes while I drain the glass of its last swing of Tullamore Dew, “Get out of my face, asshole.”
I take my eyes off of him, dismissing him and return to looking at the crowd that’s filling the dance floor before me. Misfits is damn near always packed full, one of the hottest clubs on this side of the city, and with the patronage of the Phoenix, it’s a very successful venture for my crew.
That also makes it one of my personal safe havens, where I can let my hair down and breathe without making Cobra think he needs to send unnecessary backup.
Everyone knows to leave me the hell alone in Misfits.
Except for this asshole apparently, as he grabs my wrist in what he must think is a strong hold as he yanks me from my seat. Other crew members stand up from their seats or stop whatever they are doing to look on. Not help, because as one of two female members in any sort of leadership role they all know I can handle myself, but that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy the show.
“Bitch, I asked for a dance!” dude yells in my face, like that’s supposed to change my mind, and I can’t hold back the smirk, even as he holds my right hand over my head like I’m some fucking ragdoll for him to throw around.
“You must not be from around here, huh?” I can’t help but ask, but before he can respond I’m yanking my arm free while hooking him in the jaw with my left hand.
He stumbles back, ass hitting the floor, but I didn’t hit him hard enough to knock him out, I’m not that nice.
“Priest,” Bones calls from behind the bar. He’s Cobra’s second in command, my best friend, and the closest thing to family I’ve got, being as Cobra and Mom raised us.
“I’ve got it Bones.” I don’t even look over my shoulder as I approach the idiot. I adjust my black long sleeve crop top and shake out my dyed blond hair.
“Your first mistake was talking to a woman like I’m obligated to dance with your dumbass.” I tell the idiot, stepping on his hand that he snatched me up with. I hear the crack of one of his fisted knuckles buckling under my weight, and a corner of my lip lifts as he lets out a cry of pain.
It’s not that I’m getting off on his pain, but a girl of the crew can’t show weakness or sympathy in a moment like this. Here, a girl of the crew has to be ten times more ruthless than any man to make the point that we are not all soft smiles and loving embraces. Some of us are rare gems made from unbelievable pressure, a pressure that we did not succumb to.
“Your second mistake was touching without asking, like I am property to be man handled.”
I squat down, and now he seems to realize just how dangerous I am, just what rabid animal he unleashed. I reach into the back pocked of my pants and pull out my knife and release the blade.
“Your third mistake, well your third mistake is ignorance. I am gonna clue you in though, cause I’m sweet like that. This is Phoenix territory. I am Priest. I make motherfuckers like you pray for mercy, but tonight I am feeling more benevolent than usual, so I’m gonna let you off with a warning… This is probably going to hurt.” I tell him honestly, as I hold his left arm to the ground with my right hand and with my left, I draw a cross on his exposed forearm, about two inches long and an inch across. He’s trashing the whole time but there isn’t much you can do when you have both your arms pinned down and an ever-present weight just hovering over your chest. He’s sweating up a storm and cussing me out as I do the whole thing, but I don’t care, he’s not the first person and I am sure he’s far from being the last.
I let him go, and he scrambles to his feet while holding his newly cut arm like I tried to kill him, which I totally didn’t, though it wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it. I just really wanted to go back to enjoying my night out.
I examine my knife before wiping it clean on my jeans. I turned my back on him and walked back to the bar, the music and chatter started back up, and I get myself another glass of whiskey and shoot it down my throat, savoring the tickling burn as it scorches its way down.
“You should have killed him, Priest.”
I don’t look at Bones as I watch the crowd that is currently side eyeing me like they are all trying to figure me out. Sure, I don’t look like a typical Phoenix, most of our crew are male, and those who are female well, let’s just say that most of them are arm candy for the guys. I tend to stand apart from them with my athletic body while still managing to keep every feminine curve my mother handed down to me. Her curves and her café au lait skin are two of the few things I inherited from her. Whoever my father was had some ridiculously aggressive genes, and I knew for certain he was a white guy, not that my mother had ever talked about it. He was the one subject that was forbidden.
“Bones,” I sigh, “you think I should kill any man who looks at me,” I remind him. It’s true, Bones is more than overprotective.
“He touched you. On our grounds.” Bones voice has gone all gruff, or maybe I should say gruffer that usual.
“Yeah, he did. But he was also ignorant and probably used to getting everything and everyone he’s ever wanted because of a trust fund. It’s much more effective to scare the ever loving shit out of man like him. He’s going to think twice about the females he tries to pick up now, and for a man like that, that’s torture enough.” I knew his type better than I’d like to admit.
Bones just grunts, and I know that if he ever sees the guy again the guy is in for a very rude awakening, but I don’t control Bones. Hell, Cobra doesn’t really control Bones, Bones decided to do what Cobra says out of respect, but not because he blindly follows. No, he has he’s own sense of justice and if it differs from ours, he’s not above going rouge.
“Anyway, Angel and the girls are looking for you on the dance floor.” He tells me as he walks away.
I have the bartender give me another glass of whiskey, because if Angel and the girls are looking for me, I am going to need it.
Angel is Bones girl, and don’t get me wrong the girl is fierce while still remaining very much like her name, sweet and delicate. She’s able to strike fear into Cobra when he’s pissed her off and has threatened more than once to remove a favorite member of Bones’ body when he’s tried bossing her around one to many times, but she also reminds me of a fluffy cat.
The moment my timberlands hit the dance floor I’m surrounded by crew girls, and it doesn’t take Angel long to find me.
“Priest! Dance and party with me!” she nearly whines and it doesn’t take me long to figure out that the rest of the crew girls are boring her. Angel lives for excitement and spontaneity. She’s beautiful, dark raven’s wing hair that’s so straight it looks like a continuous sheet, high cheek bones and the palest skin, she reminds me of a porcelain doll.
She’s holding on to me bouncing in anticipation and finally I roll my eyes. I look up at the DJ booth and like DJ Skelli knows, she starts playing one of Angel’s favorite dance songs. The speakers start blaring “Got Money” and she grabs my hand and starts swiveling her hips, trying to find the beat.
Laughing at her antics I start dancing, loosing myself in the music and the feel of my body. The dance floor is the one place I don’t care who’s touching me, even though most people tend to still give me my space. That’s why I love Misfits, it’s not the drinks, it’s the loud music and the ability to dance.