Short Story - Protected

Short Story – Protected

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Short Story – Protected

I hope you enjoy chapter 6 of my short story. I will link the previous chapters below.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Short Story – Protected

Protected – Chapter 6

“Charlie,” Damon yelled slurring his words. He was already three sheets to the wind and the night was young. I walked to his table, “It is Cinnamon,” I remind him. “That is your stage name but you my darling are not on stage right now, and you are my friend,” Damon stated with a look in his eye. I just smirked and smiled at the rest of the gentlemen at his table. They were all dressed in suits, expensive watches and drinking the most expensive bottle of scotch we offered. “It is a good night Charlie, I have made the deal of a lifetime!” he said while slamming back his single malt. I noticed another man at the table frowning. Why was he not happy for Damon I immediately thought?

Damon never told me what his exact job was but the way he threw out money and dressed I assumed he was a broker of some kind. He was one of my regulars and almost even a friend but I never had the guts to outright ask him about his personal life. I did take note that the other men at his table did not seem as happy as he was or as drunk.

“What was the deal about?” I asked as I sat down next to Damon and looked around the table. Blue eyes across the table cleared his throat before Damon could answer, “if we told you we would have to kill you,” he said with a smile on his face. A chill ran down my spine. Though he was joking I had to immediate feeling to not ask another question. Damon laughed, “Charlie is my girl. Right, Charlie? My right- hand man, Woman I mean!” Blue eyes was not amused. “I have to go, Damon, I am up on the main stage shortly,” I said as I leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, “stay out of trouble.”

I walked towards the main stage as the lights changed colors. Tonight Cinnamon was dancing to an old Def Leppard song. “Charlie, hey, tell Damon I said thanks for the bump tonight. His stuff is high grade,” another dancer said as I climbed the stairs to the stage. What was she talking about? Damon did not supply drugs, did he? The lyrics of Pour Some Sugar on Me started as I made my way to center stage. Pink lights danced around the stage as I pumped up the crowd. I had not even made one turn around the pole yet when money started hitting the stage. This was gonna be a good night. Man was I way off. Three hours later bodies were 0n the floor, Damon looked dead in his booth and blue eyes was walking out the back door.

Later I found out Damon was not a stockbroker. No Damon was a distributor and just pissed off some serious mob boss. And blue eyes now wanted me dead because Damon called me his right-hand woman.

How to write a Short Story?

Writing is putting your imagination on paper. Anyone can do it. Check out this great article on how to write short stories.

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