МαlЇcα DrξΖ¥αΝ
“Give me one reason not to kill you.”
Malica filed her nails as they waited for closing time. It was nearly four am and most of the customers had long since left. The yellow-orange glow from the lights on the dressing vanities flooded the room and made Malica uncomfortably aware of how tired she was. Jaxx’s sinewy leg barred her from the exit door, which she would have slipped out of long ago, if Kerner wasn’t obviously detaining her. Her bodyguard was unbearably bored and had not moved since they had sat down. She resisted the impulse to chuck her nail file at Jaxx to see if he was still awake. Whatever reason she was being held captive must have been dreadfully serious. Her prediction was that Kerner would start with some half-hearted threats that would eventually melt into veiled pleas to not start trouble again. Malica would respond with an insincere apology that Kerner would accept as genuine and they’d be off. Stewing in boredom for four hours, waiting for the bar to close was the real punishment.
Malica pivoted around from her chair to take a compact off her dressing table. She stared at her smeared eyeliner in the small mirror and set it back down. Drowsily, she stuck a fingertip in the pasty red square of makeup and drew greasy stars and spirals on the metal surface of the dressing table. Running out of room, she moved to the blank canvas of the seat of her chair between her thighs and fanned out her legs to get more drawing space. After she'd decorated that area, Malica was allured by the black shiny surface of Jaxx’s boot. He didn’t seem to notice when she wrote “a**” in Huttese across his toes. As she began writing on her own feet and calves, she heard Kerner’s heavy steps approaching the door of the dressing room. She smudged her finger clean on the back of the chair and sat up, eager to get this over with and to go home.
Jaxx woke up when Kerner sat down and moved his foot off Malica’s chair. “There’s a lot I been thinking about lately,” Kerner began, seated across from Malica. It was nice of him to uphold the pretense, but Malica knew that Kerner did not think often, very well for himself, and the selfish Twi'lek b***h who did was listening to this conversation on the other side of the door. Kerner was tense and sweatier than usual, probably itching for this unnecessary meeting to end so he could get on his whore. When his hesitant pause stretched into an awkward silence, Malica started to get suspicious. She searched his face for some kind of clue and could only conclude that whatever he wanted to tell her wasn’t “apologize to Shen’a and don’t do it again.”
Kerner cleared his throat loudly, “We can’t keep you here anymore,” he muttered. “Hand over the cantina’s property and get out.”
Malica wanted to laugh. He had to be joking.
“We’ve already confiscated the property in your locker and table, so if you have anything else, give it up now or Jaxx will force it off you. Consider it payment for beating up one of my dancers.” Kerner said, rising. Jaxx remained seated and shot Malica a stare that said he‘d smash her into a pulp if he had to do anything more on her account tonight.
Enflamed, Malica flung up and ripped open the drawer of her table to see that it was bereft of her makeup, accessories, and most importantly, a small pouch that held a drug so rare that she kept it with her at all times: Carsunum. If the dancing uniforms weren’t so flimsy, Malica would not have put it in the drawer. Malica swore under her breath when she realized that was why ******** Shen’a had been late on stage; her nasty slut fingers, better suited to snaking inside pants, pockets, and places unspeakable, were busy snaking through Malica‘s table and stealing her stuff. The ******** Twi’lek b***h had planned to get her fired the whole night. If their little fight had only lasted a few minutes longer…
“Didn’t you hear, Mal? Give up your s**t and get out.” Kerner grunted. Apparently the Zabrak’s muscle had gave the slimy b*****d a backbone.
“I heard.” Malica mumbled. She walked to the opposite wall, turned away from Jaxx and Kerner, and untied the back of her outfit. As she took it off, she slipped a small cylindrical item out of the breast of the bikini top and laced it between the long fingers of her left hand. She shimmied out of her skirt, took her street clothes off a hook, and put them on. She removed her shoulder bag from another hook and deftly slipped the item in her left hand into the bag as she slung it’s thick strap over her body.
Malica walked over to Kerner, handed him her uniform, and anticipated her final dismissal.
“Whatever you got in there's mine, too.” He said, eying the bag and getting impatient with her. Shen’a proudly presented the drugs she’d took from Malica to him earlier that night and if she was hiding more in the bag, she had one last chance to hand it over before he ordered Jaxx to take the whole damn thing, datapad, credits, and personal junk included.
Shuffling through her bag, Malica placed a small amount of spice and six deathsticks in Kerner’s outstretched palm. She had one other item to turn over. In a single swift movement, Malica grabbed Kerner’s wrist and plunged her emergency syringe of Carsunum into a fat artery. He screeched like a horny Gammorean as soon as the needle pierced his flesh and sputtered something high-pitched and incoherent to Jaxx, who was unaware of what had happened until he witnessed his boss fall to the floor in a seizure. Malica had busted out the back door when Jaxx shot up to pursue her. Speed was her best bet in this situation; Jaxx had her completely outmatched strength-wise and she knew it. As she ran through the back allies of the neighboring buildings and jumped the stocky sand barriers, Malica hoped Jaxx decided against hunting after her. She had done him a favor by disposing of Kerner; the bar was now his. It would be too much trouble to create a story to hide the crime; the least he could do was return the favor and give her a fighting chance to flee the planet. Tatoonie was no place to have a price on your head, no matter how small, and before her name showed up in the bounty office, Malica was determined to be on her way somewhere else. Her departure would have to occur prematurely. Guided by the Twin Moons, Malica made her way towards her apartment and the junkyard.
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Mind yer booty...
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