Giuseppe's Idea of a good time.

((Flashbacks. On the way to Mexico))

"Just drop it, Goule." I grumbled as I slipped the key into the lock of the motel room door. We hadn't gone far from home tonight. Giuseppe needed to get information concerning a priest from the owner of a nearby club.

I swung the door open and flipped on the light... and stopped dead in my tracks.

What I saw in my room was utterly horrifying.

There was a clothing bag on my bed, and laid out, nice and neat across the comforter, was one of the skimpiest school girl outfits I'd ever seen. It was barely shy of being considered lingerie. Knee high socks, heels, and all.

I stared dumbly at it for agood 30 seconds before the guys got impatient and pushed past me.
"Looks like you get to dress up tonight." White said, with a lecherous grin.

"No. Fucking. Way." I scowled and stomped past the bed and into the bathroom, slamming the door. I could hear the guys snickering. White called after me, "You know he won't take you inside if you don't wear it!"

If I hadn't already slammed the door, I would've done it even harder than the first time. That arrogant, self absorbed, bossy Italian sonofabitch. He expected me to wear that shit? Of course he did. And he probably would get perverse pleasure out of seeing me in it. Not because it was revealing, but because he knew it would make me ridiculously uncomfortable.

I stripped down, pulling off my clothes with jerky, violent gestures, and turned on the shower. The part that I didn't really want to admit was that it would certainly be effective.. which just pissed me off more. Giuseppe had this irritating way of doing things that not only annoyed the shit out of me- therefore satisfying him- but that also served a purpose, which made it even worse. It wasn't enough to just be the bane of my existence, he had to be right when he did it.

And this.. I should shoot him for this. Twice, even.

I stayed under the hot water until one of the guys knocked on the door.
'Will you hurry the fuck up?" Goule said, grumpily. As though he had any good reason to be grumpy. I was the one who had to go out in an outfit that made Britney Spears look virginal.
"Fuck off, Goule." I called back. But I shut the shower off and reached for a towel. We had places to be, after all. I cracked the door and stuck my hand out, and someone handed me the outfit, shoes and all.

As I examined the offending garment, I noticed that it even came with a fucking push up bra. I put everything on and tried not to look in the mirror as I did so. It didn't work. I caught a glimpse of myself and heaved a defeated sigh. The outfit was a knockout. I grumbled curses and grabbed for the small makeup bag. It would just look odd if I had the skimpy outfit, and no makeup.. if anyone bothered to look at my face, I mean. The push-up bra had to be something supernatural, giving even me an impressive amount of cleavage. I could still hear the guys making snide remarks as I slipped on the heels.

But when I opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the room, all the snickering stopped. They stared at me. Goule gave a low whistle, and White's gaze was a far cry from appropriate, practically eating me up. Jaleel looked me up and down and smirked. I squared my shoulders and walked past them all, putting a swagger in my step, causing the already dangerously short skirt to shift teasingly around my upper thighs. I felt all eyes on me as I left the room. I slammed the door behind me.

I may hate the outfit, but if I have to wear it, I'm damn well going to use it.

****

We pulled up to the club and parked in the already crowded parking lot. Everyone was dressed in their clubbing clothes, courtesy of Giuseppe. My outfit was the most eye catching of all of them, but the others didn't look too shabby either.

Giuseppe hadn't told us what information he needed, but then, he never gave many specifics. He was, as always, playing it pretty close to the chest. We walked into the club, and were immediately hit with a nearly palatable wave of noise. I could feel the heavy bass beat of the music in my chest. We all stood near the entrance and looked around at the throng of people. Jaleel pulled a cigar out of his suit pocket, lit it, and started puffing away.

We caught more than a few glances, either because of my outfit, or Jaleel's scars. I tried not to look too sour. It was challenging. Giuseppe scanned the crowd, leaned over to all of us, and muttered. "Create a distraction."

I scowled at him. "How do you propose we do that?"
He gave me a dry look. "Be creative." And he disappeared into the mass of gyrating bodies. I clenched my fists at my side. Maybe punching him in the face would have been a great distraction.. but now I had to think of something else.

Jaleel didn't seem phased. He just gave a shit eatin' grin and sauntered up to the biggest guy in the place, on the other side of the room. He was four inches taller than Jaleel, and probably twice as muscular. And Jaleel isn't a small guy.

He walked up and stood right in front of the massive man, pushing past the guys posse. I saw him take a big drag of his cigar, and without pulling it out of his mouth, he blew a giant mouthful of smoke right in the guys face.

The man's face twisted up into a sneer and he loomed over Jaleel, rage flashing in his eyes. "What the fuck?!"

Jaleel didn't miss a beat.

"This is the fuck!"

And he hauled off and decked the guy right in the face. The guys head snapped back like he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. Needless to say, a fight broke out on that side of the club. The bouncers had quite a few people to wade through before they could get close enough to break it up.

White looked at me and shrugged. "Our turn. Follow my lead."
I raised a brow at him as he stepped out into the crowd. The fight was going on on the other side of the large room, and there were still quite a few people completely ignoring it. White headed right for a blonde woman who'd been flirting shamelessly with everyone within arms length, male and female alike. She was gorgeous, and knew it. People were fawning all over her.

White walked past her and I watched as he grabbed her ass, rather forcefully.

She didn't jump in surprise, or smack him, as I would have done. Instead, she turned and gave him a sultry, come-hither smile, and winked at him.

Time to cue the fake crazy girlfriend. It wasn't hard at all to look furious. I just let go of the dam that had been holding in my anger since I'd put on this stupid outfit. With my eyes flashing, hands balled into fists, and face set in a scowl, I stomped up to the woman. "Get you're fucking hands off my MAN!" and I grabbed her wrist.

I felt, before I heard, the small bones in her wrist snap. I'd been channeling a little too much rage. I didn't mean to break her wrist.. but the anger was so intense.. and with my training, I knew just where to grab.. it was a rather unfortunate accident...

Because as soon as that bone made its unpleasant CRACK.. a noise that seemed to drown out even the heavy bass beat, the woman whirled and snarled at me, fangs bared right in my face, canines elongated and pronounced, and eyes flashing with a primal, bestial wrath that put my anger look like a kindergartner's temper tantrum.

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

I felt my eyes widen and I stumbled backwards, less than graceful in the 4 inch heels. It wouldn't matter either way, because she was on me before I could even draw in a breath to scream. She drew back her fist and I saw the punch aimed right for my temple. I felt a wave of pain and nausea, saw 8 different kinds of stars, and promptly fell unconscious, with the rampaging vampire out for my blood.

****

Jaleel sat strapped to a metal chair in the club owners office. He'd taken a couple good hits, but the marks were already fading. The other guy was tied up in a similar fashion a few feet from him, glaring. He was, apparently, the ghoul of the frenzied vampire that was currently screeching and clawing at the walls in the padded room with the reinforced walls, on the other side of the office. His name was Jackson.

The club owner, Donovan Wells, paced in front of them both, trying to control his own boiling anger. He stopped in front of Jaleel, moved in very close, eyes reading his face. His breathe smelled of mints, with a very faint scent of old blood. His voice was quiet, and spoke of terrible violence. "Who do you belong to?"

Jaleel set his jaw stubbornly and settled down in his seat. "I dunno what you're talking about."

Wells jerked back and clenched his jaw shut so hard Jaleel could hear his teeth creaking. He took a step back and picked up an empty metal chair, resting it on his shoulder like it was made of styrofoam. "Who. do you. Belong too. ghoul."

Jaleel could see the murder in his eyes, and decided maybe name dropping wouldn't be such a bad idea at this point, if it saved his ass. Dying would probably piss the boss off more than dropping his name.

"Sundown."

Wells' eyes blazed, his muscles tensed, and he raised the chair to strike. He brought the heavy object down towards Jaleel's face... but swung around at the last moment, using his momentum and speed to bash the chair into the Jackson's head...and tear it clean off his shoulders. It hit the far wall and fell to the carpet with a wet thump. he tossed the chair over his shoulder into a corner.

The frenzied vampire shrieked louder. He stalked over to the padded cell, avoiding the arm that shot out and tried to claw him. "It is a shame when they can't be taught to control themselves.." Wells said to no one in particular as he opened a panel in the wall, and hit a series of small buttons. He took a big step back from the door. There was a loud whoosh, followed by a brief moment of high pitched shrieking, then silence.. followed by the smell of charred flesh.

Donovan Wells inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly, presumably in an attempt to quell his anger. He turned to Jaleel, eyes narrowed. "Why'd he send you here?"

Jaleel just shrugged against his bonds, nonchalantly, like he hadn't just witnessed the man murder two people. "I'm supposed to give you a message."

****

I came too lying on the floor of the club, White unconscious on top of me, his nose bleeding all over my chest. There was a heavy glass ashtray on the floor, also bloody, presumably the cause of White's nasal hemorrhaging. My head was still spinning. A bouncer hauled White off and grabbed me none too gently by the arm, dragging us both into a back room. I wasn't expecting this to be a pleasant experience.

But when the door shut, the Bouncer held on to me until I could get my footing, keeping one hand hovering near by to be sure I didn't fall over. I was still pretty wobbly, until I kicked off the ridiculous heels. One guy started running smelling salts under White's nose.. and he came too sputtering and coughing. When he looked up at my breasts (because lets face it, he never looked anywhere else) he gave me a sheepish smile. My tiny shirt was drenched in blood.

One of the bouncers tossed me a clean white t-shirt. I saw the anticipatory grin start to spread across White's face, under the handkerchief he'd been given for the nose. I just glared at him and turned around. "Not even in your dreams, White."
"If only you knew, hot stuff." He said with a smile.

With my back to White, facing the door, I stripped off the shirt and let it fall to the floor in a soggy heap. The bra underneath was also soaked.. and would get the clean shirt gory if I tried to keep it on. So I took it off, and let it join the ruined shirt. I'd never be able to wear them again. Oh no. What a fucking shame.

I picked up the clean shirt and was just about to slip it on when the door opened, and Giuseppe walked in. He paused and raised a brow at my half naked self. I just glared at him, daring him to make a comment as I pulled the t-shirt on over my exposed chest. I made sure not to rush. I'd be damned if I'd let him think he could embarrass me any more tonight. So let him look. I doubted he even cared, so why the fuck should I?

I stalked over to a mirror to check my pupils. Concussions were never fun.

"Not exactly the kind of distraction I had in mind." Giuseppe said drolly, with a hint of irritation.
I scowled at him in the mirror. "Then I guess you should've been more specific. Where is everyone else?"
Right about then, the door opened and who I presumed was the club owner walked in, followed by Jaleel, then Goule, neither of which looked any worse for wear. The bastards.

Goule stood beside White, offering him a handful of clean tissues. "Sorry about the ashtray."
White grimaced and tossed the used handkerchief on top of the pile of bloody clothes. "Don't worry about it. Just learn better aim, shit."

"I hope none of you came to any lasting harm." The owner said, interrupting any further comments from the peanut gallery. His expression was bland and about as neutral as I think he could manage. We all shook our heads mutely.
"Good. Now please leave." His eyes stopped on Giuseppe, whose mouth twitched ever so slightly in what I think may have been a smile. He gave a small nod, and headed to the door.

We got more than a few looks as we left the club. I walked beside Giuseppe and grumbled softly as I padded barefoot over the sticky club floor. "Well I hope this little mission was beneficial to you."
He didn't look at me, but I saw the ghost of that I-know-more-than-you-know smirk that always makes my blood boil. This one was tinged with something slightly sinister. "Exceptionally."

I bit back my smart ass retort and drove us back to the motel in seething silence.