The Man Who Owned The Town

Chapter 2: The Bag

Neon lights sliced through cigarette smoke. The bass hit like a heartbeat in their chests, steady and loud.

VELVET Club looked like something out of a dream. Fancy leather couches curved around small tables, all glowing under soft gold lights. In the middle of the room, polished dancing poles rose from the floor to the ceiling, catching flashes of red and violet every time the lights swept over them. The whole place screamed money.

Joy and Lovely made their way to the counter, hips moving with the music.

“Four shots, please,” Joy told the bartender.

He nodded with an easy smile and started pouring.

Lovely leaned on the counter, eyes roaming. “Where’s the VIP section? Because this whole place already looks like one.”

“We do have VIP in the back,” the bartender said. “But only rich people are allowed there.”

“Ouch!” Lovely said, pressing a hand to her chest like she’d been stabbed.

The bartender laughed.

Joy smirked. “So those dancing poles… do you guys have strippers?”

“We do have strippers,” he said. “Male, female… whatever you like.”

He slid the shots toward them.

Lovely glanced around. “But I don’t see one.”

“Seems like you two are early,” he said. “They’ll join us shortly.”

“Let’s go to that corner couch,” Joy said, already heading that way.

Lovely nodded and followed.

They drank, red and violet light painting their faces. Their laughter was too loud over the music, but no one cared. Everyone was too busy dancing, drinking, forgetting.

Hours passed. Then, past midnight, the music was behind them.

The cool night air did nothing to sober them up.

Lovely squinted at her phone, thumb missing the Uber button for the third time. She cracked up.

“Let’s just walk,” Joy said, swaying. “We’ll grab a cab on the way.”

“Girl, I can barely walk straight,” Lovely muttered.

Joy hooked an arm around her. “Come on.”

The farther they got from the club, the quieter it became. No music. Just wind. Distant traffic. The glow of the city fading behind them.

Then Joy stopped.

“I need to pee.”

“Hurry,” Lovely said, hugging herself. “I’m freezing.”

Joy ducked into the bushes by the road, phone flashlight sweeping over grass, rocks—and stopped.

A black duffel bag. Half-hidden. Zipper half-open. Heavy. The strap had two letters stitched in faded white: **M.W.**

Drunk curiosity won.

She finished, stood, and pulled the zipper the rest of the way.

Every ounce of drunk left her body.

“Oh my God.” It came out as barely a whisper.

“Lovely. Come here.”

Lovely groaned, stumbling over. “What? I just want my bed.”

“Look.”

Lovely leaned in.

Cash. Bundles. Brick after brick of it, wrapped tight.

“What the hell,” Lovely breathed. “Is that real?”

Joy was already scanning the empty road. No one. Just wind in the trees.

“Joy, no.” Lovely grabbed her arm. “What if it’s a trap? What if whoever this belongs to comes back? We could get arrested.”

But Joy couldn’t look away. The money glowed under the flashlight like a promise.

“No one will find us,” Joy said quietly. “Think about it. I could pay off college.”

She turned to Lovely.

“And you. You could get your own place. Start that business. Stop pretending you’re ‘figuring it out.’ Plus, Karen is giving you a hard time.”

The wind moved through the trees. Cold.

Lovely stared at the bag. Her stomach twisted.

“This is wrong.”

“What’s wrong is killing ourselves while this sits here for nobody.”

Silence. No cars. No voices. Just the hum of the city far away.

Lovely closed her eyes. Exhaled.

When she opened them, she was already reaching.

“Fine. But if this blows up, it’s your fault.”

Joy’s hands shook as she zipped the bag closed. It was heavier than it looked.

She threw the strap over her shoulder.

“Come on,” she said, voice low. “Before someone sees us.”

And they ran.