Chapter 4: Nightlife

LANA

I didn’t need to see who was behind the door to know they were there to cause trouble. The thought that our landlord might have sent street thugs to make our lives miserable sent a wave of fear coursing through me.

Bernardo shot me a wary glance and whispered, “Who are they?”

A loud bang echoed at the door, followed by a booming voice demanding, “Open up! If not, we’re kicking this damn door down!”

I turned to my dad and whispered, “Mom.”

That was all it took for his expression to darken. He gritted his teeth, grabbed my arm, and we tiptoed out through the back door.

Behind our flat was a dark alley, seldom used by anyone except the residents of our building. We ran swiftly through it, and as we emerged, Bernardo flagged down a taxi.

“Go, go, go!” he urged the driver the moment he slipped into the back seat.

I glanced back and saw the thugs at our door had spotted us; they were charging after us, wielding steel bars. Fear gripped me, and I scrambled into the car.

I kept looking back, praying they wouldn’t catch up or flag down another ride. Relief washed over me when I saw them stop, losing interest in the chase.

I turned to face the front, only to hear Bernardo ask, “Lana, do you have any money?”

I blurted out, “I don’t have any cash! Mom cleaned me out. You’ve got money for the taxi, right?”

Bernardo’s gaze darted around the car, and it hit me: he didn’t have any money either. He had just hailed a cab without a plan.

Tension tightened in my chest as I studied the driver. His expression was that of a man burdened by the weight of the world, and he certainly didn’t look friendly.

With that gloomy look on his face, I knew trouble was brewing again. I decided to rest, bracing myself for whatever chaos awaited us upon arrival.

Bernardo didn’t say a word, and I had nothing to contribute either.

"Hey, pull over there. We’ll stop here," I heard my stepdad call out.

I opened my eyes and instantly became alert; I knew we were about to pull a fast one on the driver.

As the car came to a halt, I sprang out. I heard Bernardo talking to the taxi driver. "How much for the ride?"

The driver replied casually, "Thirty."

Bernardo haggled, "That’s too much. Let me check my wallet."

He fumbled in his pocket and then suddenly bolted toward the bustling street, shouting at me, "Run!"

I had been anticipating this moment, so I took off after him. The driver’s curses faded into the background noise around us. 

I glanced around, astonished. Had the entire population of New York converged on this street? It was alive with energy, but as I began to take it all in, I felt a tug on my wrist.

Bernardo was staring at me, urgency etched on his face. "We’re running late! Hurry up and follow me!"

I gave up my moment of wonder and followed him. He led me to a door guarded by two burly men.

I looked up at the gaudy plaque above their heads and muttered, "Sin City." 

I rolled my eyes, thinking about the creativity—or lack thereof—behind such a name for a club.

We pushed our way inside, and the atmosphere hit me like a wave: loud music, a dance floor teeming with couples, and scantily clad women serving drinks.

Then something caught my eye—one man was spanking a waitress with a dollar bill. My lips twitched as I glanced at my father. He had some nerve coming to a place like this, especially when he could barely afford a decent meal.

He met my gaze, confusion written across his face. "Why are you staring at me?" he asked.

I could barely hear him over the blaring music, but he wasn’t waiting for a response as he pulled me along. We walked toward a corridor draped with a red curtain.

“Manager Sam, 24642…” he said to the burly man covered in tattoos, standing by the curtain, reciting a string of codes.

Once he finished, we were ushered in, and I quickly realized that the part of the clubhouse we had just left was nothing compared to the chaos of the gambling den behind the curtain. The noise was overwhelming—shouts of triumph mingled with cries of despair, creating a raucous symphony that made my stomach turn. How could gambling bring them so much joy?

“Lana, let’s go. Manager Sam is probably waiting for us,” Bernardo said reluctantly, his gaze fixed on the chaotic scene of men throwing dice.

We stepped into a dimly lit tunnel, and as we emerged, we found ourselves flanked by doors on either side. Suddenly, one of the doors swung open, and a young man stepped out, followed by a group of sharply dressed men.

When our eyes met, I was momentarily stunned. Was it even possible for someone to be this handsome? He had a high-bridged nose, sharp jawlines, and eyes that seemed to pierce through me. I felt a strange impulse to reach out and touch his face.

“Don Maximum, we’re doing everything we can to find the girl and her parents. We’ll have a satisfactory explanation for you when you next visit,” one of the men said.

Bernardo grabbed my arm, his voice tense. “Lana, behave yourself.”

I could hear the fear in his tone, and as I turned to look at the men approaching, it became clear that the handsome man was no ordinary figure. Everyone around him seemed to fade into the background. My heart raced as he locked his gaze on me, and I felt it leap from my chest.