The Prince of Chicago

Chapter 2

Isabelle

Somehow, the music seemed to get even louder as we entered the dance floor from where we had been standing near the bar. The bass boomed deep in my chest, and I could feel the elevated floor hum with each beat. The stench of alcohol and sweat hung heavy in the air, and Marie and I had to elbow people to make room for us to walk though. We transversed the entire floor, and found ourselves on the other side of the platform. Even then, we were still smushed against the guardrail that circled the dance floor, now near the bar on the other side of the club, opposite the one we had ordered at. It was a bit uncomfortable, but we didn’t care, the room was alive and so were we.

Marie started dancing, attempting to move her body in sync with the music, but was not successful. She had always had two left feet when it came to dancing. Watching her, I recalled the few times I had dragged her to Wednesday’s country night at one of our favorite bars near campus. She tried so hard to learn the country dances they were teaching, but just couldn't keep up. I, on the other hand, had danced growing up, and while I hadn’t taken a class in years, I still had the rhythm I used to. I swayed my hips with the ebb and flow of the song, grabbing Marie’s hand and twirling her around in an attempt to save her the embarrassment of her horrible dancing. I flipped my long brown hair out of my face and tugged the bottom of my top down as my arm descended from spinning her.

Marie had dressed me tonight, claiming that none of my clothes would fit the vibe of a city club. She was probably right; while I had always been into fashion, I never really had a reason to own anything too trendy. People in Iowa just didn’t dress that way. But now seeing the way Chicagoans put themselves together, I was excited by the prospect of shopping at the trendy city boutiques and getting dressed up to go out. Marie had loaned me an outfit for the night so that I’d fit in, and while it was a little bit out of my comfort zone, it definitely fit the bill for this club. It was a red cropped wrap and tie top that was sheer when you first put it on, but as you wrapped and layered the pieces of fabric hanging from it, it became opaque, tying in the back. She paired it with a tight leather skirt from the clothing label she worked for. She had tried to get me in a pair of heels too, but afraid my feet would hurt too much, I opted for my white sneakers instead. I had to admit, the whole ensemble, even with the sneakers, looked pretty hot. Marie definitely knew what she was doing.

We went on dancing and twirling each other for a few songs until a woman approached Marie. They leaned into each other, shouting in an effort to hear what the other was saying. Finally, Marie motioned for me to lean in too.

“This is Anna!” she shouted. “She’s one of my coworkers!” I nodded and smiled at Anna. No use trying to say anything with the noise. Anna smiled back. “You ladies want another round?” Marie yelled. It wasn’t until then that I noticed my drink was empty. Both Anna and I nodded, and Marie gave us a thumbs up, taking off towards the bar we were near.

“How long have you been working with Marie?” I shouted to Anna.

“I was there about a year before she started,” Anna yelled back. “You two are friends from college?”

I nodded.

“How wonderful! We all love Marie!” she replied. Of course they did, how could you not. I looked over to the bar then, my eyes scanning to see if she had gotten up to order yet. It was packed tonight, and the wait for drinks had been long so far.

Just then, I noticed a tall man leaning against the back wall where the bar ended. He was wearing a full suit, which was odd considering this was a club and it was summertime; most everyone was wearing something a bit more casual. As my eyes scanned his stature, I realized how tall he was. It was difficult to tell, being on the elevated dance floor, but compared to the people around him, he stuck out like a sore thumb. He had to be at least 6’5”. My eyes landed on the mop of dark hair that sat in a perfectly messy coif on his head. After lingering there for a moment, my gaze danced its way down to his features. It was hard to make them out given the distance and darkness in the club, but I could tell he had a chiseled jawline and angular cheekbones to compliment. Thick, almost unkempt eyebrows framed his face, and his nose was a bit crooked, like it had been broken and never healed quite right. Then, I finally made my way to his eyes. They were hooded, possibly from the effects of alcohol, or maybe something else, and dark. I couldn't make out the exact color from the distance, so I stared for a moment longer. All of a sudden a tap on my shoulder made me jump back to reality.

“Do you know that guy?” Marie shouted, fresh drinks in hand.

“No, I just noticed him over there,” I replied, taking my drink. “Weird he’s wearing a suit, don’t you think?”

“Well he’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes or so,” Marie responded. “I noticed him looking when I left for the bar.” I looked from her to Anna, who nodded in agreement.

“Yeah I noticed him staring when I walked over here,” Anna said. I turned to look again, realizing I was probably too engrossed in studying him to notice him staring at me right back. Sure enough, there he was, eyes trained on me from the corner. Our gazes locked for a moment, and he tilted his head just slightly. His motion seemed almost like an invitation, or at the very least confirmation of what my friends were saying. He had been staring at me. Suddenly, the air seemed to get thinner, like I couldn’t get enough of it. I sucked in a big breath and quickly turned away, eyes darting anywhere but his.

“You sure you don't know him?” Marie asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, a bit annoyed. “I just moved here, how could I know anyone?”

“Fair enough,” replied Marie. “He’s pretty cute though, maybe you should go introduce yourself!”

“I think I’ll pass,” I responded. Whoever this guy was, he didn’t give me a good feeling. Never before had the wind been knocked out of me by simply meeting someone’s gaze. That had to be a bad thing, right? And besides, I was here with Marie, and we were celebrating finally living in the same city again. Tonight was not the night to meet someone.

“Suit yourself,” Marie said nonchalantly. She turned back to Anna, and they both began dancing again. I tried to join them, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that guy had given me. It was like a seed had been planted deep in the pit of my stomach when our eyes met, and it had begun to grow. My mood had shifted, and while I was decently drunk, I was no longer feeling the whole dancing thing. When Marie and Anna decided they were going to get another round, I told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head home.

“Are you sure you’re ok to make it back by yourself?” Marie asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, promise,” I said back. “I just haven’t drank like this in a while and I think it’s getting to me.” I knew it wasn’t the alcohol, but something was still telling me to get out of there, to get some air.

“Alright, well text me as soon as you make it back to your place,” Marie said.

“Done,” I replied with a small smile. “Wonderful to meet you,” I said, turning to Anna. “Have a great rest of your night, you guys!”

They both turned to the swamped bar, and I made my move toward one of the side doors, not wanting to wade through the masses to get back to the front. I made my way past the spot where the mysterious man had been standing on my way out, but he was no longer there. My breathlessness began to lift as I neared the door. Good, I thought.

In one fell swoop, I pushed the door open and stepped into the humid Chicago night. It was the end of July; you could tell by the warm breeze making its way down the alley I now found myself in. Panting as if I’d been running, I drew short gulps of fresh air into my lungs. It was only then that I realized how fast my heart was pounding; I could hear my pulse in my ringing ears. As I began to catch my breath, I looked up and down the narrow corridor to see which way I should walk to make it to the street.

Suddenly, my ears focused on some yelling that sounded only a few feet away. I turned with my back toward the street to see three men scuffling in the alley. It was clear the fight was two against one. I continued to observe, unsure if I should mind my own business and walk away, or stay near. The one who was clearly by himself had now been punched to the ground by the other two, and had taken a few kicks to the abdomen. I had seen bar fights out in Iowa, but never something like this. I didn’t want to get involved, but figured the poor sap on the ground may need some help when the other two finally left him alone, so instead of walking away, I moved to crouch behind a group of empty boxes in the alley.

Peeking out behind the boxes, I continued to observe the exchange. They were speaking in low tones now, and it was hard to make out. I should just go, I thought. This wasn’t small-town Iowa, and I had no idea who these men were. It was none of my business to be spying on them. But just as I was about to turn in my crouched position and scurry out of the alley, the man closest to me pulled a gun out and pointed it at the man on the ground.

Shit! I thought. There was no way I was going to try and run now, not while this man had a gun. What if he saw me? My only option was to sit tight until they left.

I knew my way around a gun; growing up in Iowa, shooting was a recreational activity. But the gun this man had was much different than the ones I was familiar with. It was a small, black handgun, like the ones you see people pull out in action movies as they’re chasing down the villain. Could these men be cops? Maybe this was a suspect they had been pursuing. I waited to see what would happen next, if they were going to pull badges out and begin reciting this guy his Miranda Rights, but they just stood there, gun trained on their target.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” the man holding the gun said. I strained to hear what they were saying over the roar of traffic on the street. “Did you or did you not take the money?”

“You’re gonna kill me whether I confess or not,” said the man on the ground. Wait, what? Who were these men?

“That, my friend, is an astute observation,” the gunman replied. “Don’t you think, Marco?”

“Completely,” responded the man next to the gunman. “Well then, my friend, see you in hell.” He nodded at the gunman, and then two shots rang out.

The sound of the gunshots made me involuntarily jump out of where I had been crouched. Oh my god! They just shot that man! Stunned, I realized that I was now in full view of these men, these murders. There they were, standing only feet away, gun still in the open. I looked back and forth from the body on the ground to them, mouth agape. Slowly, the man holding the gun raised it, pointing it square at my chest. What had I gotten myself into?

“Come here,” he commanded, voice stern. I didn’t move. It was like my feet had roots growing deep into the earth, pinning me to the concrete where I stood. “Don’t make me ask again,” the man said, clearly irritated. I closed my still open mouth, gulping a breath down before letting my legs carry me the ten or so steps it took to close our distance. I knew I had to be strong; I couldn’t show my fear.

“Who are you?” This question came from the man without the gun. I looked between his face and the gunman’s, studying them for a moment. I made sure my posture was tall; despite being only a few inches over five feet, I thought maybe if I tried to appear taller it would help me somehow. “Speak woman!” His roaring voice startled me, and I jumped back. So much for not showing fear.

‘I- I was in the club and I needed some air,” my voice shook. “I stumbled upon… you had a gun, I didn’t want to get involved. I was just going to hide until you went away.” They looked at each other but didn’t say anything. The man on my right slowly lowered the gun. “I promise I won’t say anything,” I said. “I just wanted to leave, to go back to my apartment. I was just trying to go home, I swear.” I thought maybe they’d let me go, he wasn’t pointing the gun at me anymore. Maybe they would just forget all about this.

But then, in one swift motion, the gunman raised his gun high in the air and brought it crashing down on my head. Pain radiated across my skull and down my neck. Then, blackness engulfed me.