Davy gave his hand a good shake, spraying little droplets of blood off in several directions before it returned to his mouth. He realized he must have looked frightening, wandering down the dark, cold street, with his shirt ripped open, and bloody wounds soaking through his previously white clothes. He thanked God that there was no one out this late to stare at him.

“Bitch....” He mumbled. “Fuckin’ hell.” He pathetically tried to spit the blood out of his mouth, but only succeeded in getting it all over his face. He continued to limp down the street, combining expletives with vulgar British slang.

It had not been a good night to say the least.

***

Lola was a Spanish beauty, with her long, silky black hair, sparkling brown eyes, coffee skin, and breasts like Davy had never seen. She must have had thousands of bangle bracelets on each arm, and her slinky red dress revealed so much of her legs, that there wasn’t an eye in the club that wasn’t on her. Needless to say, Davy was thrilled when she sauntered her way over. She made it a point to lean over the table to talk to him, letting him know she wasn’t wearing a bra, and planned to be wearing less than that later on. Her accent was amazing, she even smelled sexy. An added bonus, Davy thought, was that she was only an inch taller than him.

They’d danced for hours, sweat dripping from every inch of skin, and they made out on the dance floor. Lola seemed enthralled with him, she never broke eye contact, listened to every word he said, and rubbed up against him suggestively. At one point during their dancing, she slipped the tips of her fingers under his belt, bringing his hips closer to her own. Davy leaned forward to kiss her; letting his hands caress her back. The music was so intoxicating Davy almost forgot where he was.

They’d been drinking. Davy figured he’d had at least six beers and some other vodka that Lola had suggested. The alcohol burned in his stomach, making him light-headed. All in all, he was ready and raring for a night of wild sex with this Spanish vixen. As the dimly lit club continued to pulse with energy, Lola made her move. She kissed his ear and murmured her plans for the night. Hardly one to refuse such an offer, Davy took her hand in his and led her towards the door, weaving in and out of the crowd, leading her as if she was a child.

Outside, her demeanor seemed to change radically. Suddenly she was drunk as hell, she draped herself all over him, kissing any exposed skin, and rubbing Davy’s chest as she sang songs in Spanish. Her flirting got more aggressive; she seized Davy’s lips and gripped the back of his head. She staggered a little, giggling and leading them both into the alley next to the building. Davy smiled and ran his hand down to her thigh, lifting her leg slightly. She responded but wrapping her leg around his, the stiletto heel of her shoe tickling the inside of his knee.

She began to moan, saying things like, “Ay Dio”, which really turned Davy on, although he didn’t know why. Maybe it was her accent.

As he pulled his head away to look at her, he felt multiple pairs of hands on his shoulders, yanking him away from Lola and tossing him to the wet concrete. As Davy hit the ground, his first instinct was to get up and protect Lola from the thugs attacking them. But as he pulled himself off the ground, he noticed that Lola was getting rather friendly with the biggest of the gang. The leader, apparently. The big guy had one hairy hand protectively over Lola’s breast as they kissed; making it clear enough that Lola was taken.

“Fuck.” Davy thought. There were four of them, each had to be at least twice his size. “Double fuck.” He thought. His mind raced as he backed up slowly. He began to think about how many beers he’d had that night, and how many Lola had had. He then realized that she hadn’t once refilled her glass. She’d let him do all the drinking. ‘Maybe that’s why you’re walking further towards the dead end instead of making a run for it, you stupid asshole’, his mind screamed at him. He whirled around to realize that his brain was actually right. It was a dead end. “Would it be redundant to say fuck?” He asked himself. That’s when the swarm of thugs descended on him. The last thing he remembered, before passing out for a couple of hours, was Lola kicking him in the ribs with those vicious heels.

***

Hours later, Davy was shocked his teeth hadn’t actually fallen out. They’d taken two hundred dollars from him, but not before beating him like a rug, mostly about the face. He’d been saving his money for a sinfully wonderful night on the town, and it had resulted in the worst night of his life.

He couldn’t even remember where he had parked the car, so he walked the entire ten miles home. Thank God no one was out this late, how late, he had no idea. They’d taken his watch as well. Finally, he was able to hear the crash of the surf, and his body went on autopilot, leading him to his front door of the beach house. Lo and behold, it was locked. And why wouldn’t it be locked? Even if the guys hadn’t expected him to be out this late, they would have at least assumed he still had his keys.

He decided that at least his friends should have a peaceful night, and sat down on the front steps, leaning against the door. At least his mouth had stopped bleeding a little bit. He made an attempt to button his shirt back up, but it was no use. It hurt to move his hands, bloody knuckles and all.

“Bitch....” He murmured as he fell asleep.

***

“What the fuck happened to you?!”

Davy’s eyes shot open at Mike’s rather loud question. Through two black eyes he gazed up at the Texan from his position on his back on their front step. Was it morning already?

“I’m fine, Mike. Just had a little run in, that’s all. What time is it?”

“It’s six o’clock. We just got a call from Babbitt telling us to get ‘that dirty homeless man’ off our doorstep or he’d sic the police on him.”

“Does that mean I look as bad as I feel?”

“You look worse, man. Get in here.” Mike stepped aside, as if Davy was going to hop up and stroll in.

Davy winced. He could feel his anger rise through the haze of a massive hangover. Didn’t Mike have any idea what he’d been through? “Mike, sorry, but fuck you if you think I can get up.”

A cool hand was then on his forehead. Davy strained his eyes to see who was touching him. Micky: the angel of sympathy. Micky’s eyes were squinted in concern so that they were only slits. His face held a deadly somber look. Funny, the only time Micky was ever serious was when one of them was mortally wounded.

“It’s okay, Davy baby, I got you.” Micky lifted Davy’s arm and draped it around his shoulders, hoisting him up into a position that somewhat resembled standing. He guided the smaller man to their couch and let him collapse on it. Micky paused to yank Davy’s shoes off his feet and went to get a damp towel to help him clean himself up a bit.

Mike leaned over the back of the couch. “You get hit by a car?”

“No, mugged. And thank-you for caring.” Davy kept his eyes closed, wanting to avoid the angry look he knew he was getting. Mike was such a bastard. The two had been getting on each other’s nerves lately, and Davy wasn’t sure when the rivalry was going to reach fever pitch. Mike was an angry asshole all the time, and Davy had started to pay less and less attention to the band. Needless to say, they were not the best of friends anymore. “Micky, can you get me a beer, or something?” Davy groaned in Micky’s direction.”

Micky paused to grab a Coke and approached Davy with the damp towel in his other hand. Davy gratefully accepted, relishing in the feeling of the warm water seeping down his skin, washing away the dirt and blood. Without realizing it, he let a deep, shuddery sigh escape him. He was tired, hurt, hungry, and dirty. He didn’t think there was any creature on earth more pathetic than he.

“Well, I’d better go get the car. Where’d you leave it?” Mike droned, grabbing his coat.

“On Palmer Street. By that club, the new one....”

“Right, I got it. Be back in an hour.” Mike slammed the door behind him.

Davy grunted. “Someone explain to him that it wasn’t in my date book to get the living shit kicked out of me, please?”

“Ignore him, he’s been a bitch lately.” Micky said, in an uncharacteristic show of rebellion against the all-knowing leader of the band. He sat down at the edge of the couch, next to Davy. “What happened?”

“I got drunk, this chick got me in an alley and four gorillas jumped me. They didn’t even break a sweat.” He threw the cloth to the ground, disappointed with the measly ‘splat’ sound it made. He really wanted to break something, but damned if he even had the strength to get up by himself.