August 3, 1788

Ward for the Correction of Incorrigible Rogues: Surrey, England

"Where the fuck are my girls!?" His voice bellowed through the wrought iron bars. The putrid stagnant air of the cell around him caught his throat making him gag on the stench. Craning his neck into his shoulder he inhaled the black fabric deeply trying to settle his stomach against the foul smell of waste and decay. His demand though had gone unanswered and the only sound that filled the small cage was a his own echo. Restlessly he shuffled his suede boots over the hay covered stones beneath his feet.

After many of their shows he was the one taken into custody. The delicate sensibilities of polite society had been offended to the core by his performance, by his music, by him. This time though unlike the others, they had grabbed them all. The thought of his band mates in this place made him begin to panic, stomach reeling from more than just the funk that permeated his nostrils. He had promised to keep them safe, but with many of his vows this one now seemed to fall by the wayside. He could scramble enough funds to post bail for maybe one or two of them, but there just wasn't enough in their coffers to spring them all from this hell. His hands gripped the rusting bars, knuckles paled as he clenched tighter in anger and frustration. Again he called out into the darkness, though he was sure a response wouldn't be found. "WHERE ARE MY GIRLS!?!?"

"Shut your mouth, pretty boy. Those drury vestals of yours are in another block. You think we could bring them in here, lookin' like that?" A stocky figure swaggered out of the shadows and peered down to the lone occupant of the cell. The guard's thick grubby fingers flicked roughly against his nimble hands, but they refused to yield their stiff grasp of the iron that separated them.

"Dressed like you are, maybe we should have thought about leaving you back there too." The guard reached a hand through the rods tugging on the garter belt which hung loosely against the bright white tights encasing his thighs. Pulling his leg away gruffly the black elastic snapped back with a sting against his skin. Looking up from the sudden pain, his lip upturned in a snarl towards the man who stood in front of him. Eyes narrowing underneath a furrowed brow, his arm shot out, lunging through the open space.

"Watch it!" The guard sneered at the sudden threat, barely escaping the hand as it reached for his collar. "Aye Prince huh? What you colonist think you're royalty now or something?" Rotting yellow teeth glared from tips of his inflamed gums as he spoke.

Letting those words fall flat without a reply, Prince once again gripped uneasily at the barrier between them. His lips drawn tight as his gaze lingered over the guard in disgust.

Out of the strained silence another thick accent came from the shadows. "Will you quit dickin' around and get that fuckin' molly outta there? Go grab the heifers too, Magistrate wants to see them all."

With a huff the guard began to fumble with his keys nervously. Eyes never wavering from the dark orbs of the prisoner's whose reflected dangerously in the low light of flickering flames. The sparse torches that dotted the pitched walls barely strong enough to cast a glow over his handsome features, a stark contrast to the vile and dank surroundings.

"If I let you out, you going to be a good boy?"

"You gonna touch me again... I know it's enticing, ain't it?" Head cocked aggressively he dared the guard to try once more. Swaggering out of the open cell he leaned against the bars as if he had all the time in the world and this was exactly where he wanted to be. Fingers combing through his dusky hair, he tightened the black and white dotted sash around his fallen curls. Silently crossing his arms over his broad chest, he cracked his neck and waited for the larger man to make his next move. In defeat the guard gave a feeble grunt, rustling his keys in Prince's direction and then was once more enveloped by the inky shadows.

Left alone in the darkness the feelings of panic and desperation fell over him like a wave, constantly pounding with each breath he took. What if his girls had been hurt... what if they had been separated.... what if... what if this was their last straw. Hearing the familiar jingle of keys he struggled to calm his exterior, his beautiful face hardening as if it were etched in stone.

Suddenly he could make out the soft whispers of feminine voices as they mixed with the shuffled uneven gate of the prison guard walking down the long corridor. "His girls!", he strained a sensitive ear to make out each individual tone. If they were all together and talking maybe, just maybe, they were all right. His hard exterior melted as soon as he saw the group of women rush to him, all leg, big hair and weary red lips. Looking up from what felt like home he noticed one of his girls a bit apprehensive on the reunion.

"Mama?" He questioned quietly turning, his hand reaching for hers.

"You know this is bullshit, P. It's going on two goddamn years..." The words fell from her lips as though she had been rehearsing this exact line, perfecting each syllable with a stoic firmness. He could imagine her pacing back and forth between the cell walls going over each word.

"I know... we'll make it happen, just don't leave me... not yet. You know I need you."

"Uhhhh, how many times have I heard that?" Her arms moved to perch on her hips, head tilted as she waited impatiently for his answer. If no one was going to call him out on his broken promises, she sure as hell was. They had been stuck in Europe for the past year and a half, she had grown so tired of the constant cycle of no funds due to bailing him out of jail cells. Suddenly finding herself trapped in one, she had reached her limit. E. had promised fun and money, when they decided to leave her band to join his, but that quickly dissolved into nothing but hardships and heartbreak... the music though had always been solid, his vision unwavering.

"Boni, say you won't leave me." He took her round face into his hands tenderly. Kissing her on the cheek, his amber eyes raised through the murkiness searching to find hers.

As his lips left, she shook her head and drew a ragged breath in surrender. "Damn it... you are so fucking exhausting." Rolling her eyes she finally fixed her gaze on their leader. "FINE...but your clock is ticking."

"Just a little more time and I can get us outta here..." This was the one thing that terrified him the most. Left alone without a soul to help bring his vision to life. He didn't want to fail them, but most importantly he didn't want to fail himself.

"Sheila?" His gaze met that of his percussionist. Only a second ago he had been so concerned with their well being... now suddenly the only thing that occupied the his mind was their allegiance to him and his sound.

"I'm with you, all the way Baby, till the end. You know that." Smoothing a finger over her cheek she smiled into the palm of his hand, ever loyal, ever faithful... till the end.

"Cat?" He questioned low and deep, wrapping an arm around her thin waist he pulled her closer.

"Listen how we gonna pay for this? I ain't going back in that cell, Daddy." The cadence of her voice bounced off the walls as she spoke.

"We'll figure something out. We always do." Bringing their bodies into to him he took in their sweet perfumes, soft skin and the familial warmth he had grown so attached to. Though his words had always seemed to falter. He thought maybe if he held them tight enough they would understand just how much he couldn't do without them, how much he needed them. "We'll figure something out..." He repeated faintly, his words trailing into silence as if he didn't really believe them either.

"Looks like someone already did. You posted bail." The second jailer looked to him motioning to a ledger which lay on a disheveled desk.

"Alright, listen." Forming a plan he spoke quietly so the only ones who could hear were the ladies that huddled around him. "Cat you'll take my place, go to the safe and grab everything we got. It should be enough to cover you two." Pointing to Sheila and Boni he drew a sigh of relief as long as the girls were out of here, he didn't care, he had been in much worse situations, in filthier accommodations. "Just make the rounds and get me out when you can."

"We aren't leaving you here, Baby." Sheila assured him to the dismay of Boni's distorting face.

"No I don't think you understand. You all posted bail." The jailer repeated putting emphasis on the word all.

"Who would have that kind of money?" Boni looked up questioning from the not so private conversation.

"Some kind of veiled freak." The guard hissed grabbing the leather bound book and tossing it to Prince.

Catching it effortlessly, his fingers smoothed over his name, as it had been scratched almost illegibly on the parchment. The three spaces below his marked with just one disrespectful repeated word... slag. Licking his thumb quickly he ran the wet appendage over each offence, the sudden moisture against the ink distorted them instantly. By each name was a price; 4 pounds for him, 2 apiece for each of his band mates. A total of 10 pounds paid to get them out of their cells. Who in the hell could have that type of money? At the bottom of the page was the signature of their savior, scrolled in fluid beautiful swirls: Anna Stesia. "So we're free to go then?" Dropping the ledger to the floor without hesitation, his arms wrapped casually around the shoulders of Boni and Sheila. Back in full form, he was done with this place and couldn't wait to get their asses out of fucking London.

"Not yet, Magistrate wants to see you for sentencing." The guard began to chuckle at this statement, a joke that only he thought funny. As he watched their hopeless dismay, his cackle deepened. Small sprays of saliva dropped from the gaping holes in his gums, where teeth used to be.

"But we posted bail?..." Again Prince's body began to tense. Fucking London.

"Oh no we are very familiar with you musician types. We're gonna catcha now, before you have the chance to skip town." Again that knowing chuckle began. "Get the irons!" He screamed through the darkness and a lumbering drag of heavy chains responded.

_______________________

"Wanton acts of simulated carnality, fornication, incest... squirrel meat!!!" The Magistrate howled in utter disbelief. Arching his body over the wooden bench he looked down on the prisoner in front of him. Clapped in restraints a smug curl still pulled at the corner of his mouth. As each sinful act bounced around the empty courtroom, his brazen smile would widen.

"Your honor, listen. It's all me, these women just perform in my act, under my direction. They had nothing to do with it." The thick metal of the cuffs and chains that wrapped his wrists moved slightly as he tried with some effort to point to the row of ladies lined up behind him.

"These women... trollops... loose..." Flashing a darkened scowl to the band of misfits the Magistrates finger pointed to each one.

"Who you calling loose?!?!" Cat questioned offended.

"Where are their husbands?!?! Where are their papers??" He requested in disbelief. How shameless they were, a woman outside the home with a male escort not of family ties, especially when he was escorting around two other females.

"Husbands? Papers?" The girls scoffed in in unison.

"You have a female percussionist! That is no instrument for a lady!"

"Male... female what does it matter? An artist is an artist. Besides she plays pretty good... for a girl." With a grin building mischievously he turned back to catch Sheila's gaze. Sucking her teeth she reflected the trace on his lips.

"Women are not fit to play outside of the parlor. And with this form of scandalous secular noise, I am afraid they aren't even fit to play in parlors."

"Depends on who's parlor." Prince chided thinking of all the private concerts they have given over the past year. Some sponsors certainly more satisfied than others, the beautiful ones anyway.

"Certainly not mine."

"To each his own." Shrugging his shoulders heavily, Prince had to stop himself from riling up the Magistrate too far. He could see the growing anger in his eyes. The crimson of his neck beginning to creep past the cream colored bib he adorned over his black robes.

"I've never seen so much vulgarity in all my days." The judge hissed through his clenched teeth.

"I know. Exciting isn't she?" Eyes widening Prince raised a thick brow, with a gentle tilt of his head and motioned to Cat. He watched in revelry as a single bead of sweat fell from the Magistrate's stiffly curled powdered wig and down the length of his forehead.

She stood with her hands on her hips defiantly. Eyes shielded by a pair of sunglasses pushed tight against her cheeks. The black lace bustle attached to the form fitting dress she wore only accentuated her curves. The slinky red fabric inched up her thighs with every restless shift her body made, exposing more supple chestnut skin.

"That is beside the point!" The judge's tongue rolled over his lips hungrily as he took in the sight of her.

"Your honor..." Prince's hands tried to grasp the edge of the wooden bench, but he was quickly shooed away by the threat of a gavel upon his fingers.

"Silence." The Magistrate screamed tired of listening to all the excuses. "I find your music crude, your methods tactless and barbaric. If it were up to me all of you would be clapped in irons, paraded in the center square and made an example of."

"Your honor..." Again he tried and failed to be heard.

"Unfortunately there are those with more power than I, who see what you do as..." The Magistrate took an exasperated breath, trying so hard to swallow the words that would come next. "...ART... therefore my hands are tied. You are free to go... all of you... but if I ever catch you in London again. Your asses will be mine." With a growl he stepped down from the bench, his black robes trailing behind him like bat wings, disappearing behind a closed door, the once silent courtroom erupted in celebration.

"You hear that Snaggles, bring your keys?" He called to the toothless guard, rustling his chains like a restless spirit.

"Let's get the hell outta here... Fuckin' London." Boni whispered as the group rushed towards the door.

Walking out into the night Prince stopped abruptly noticing the outline of black carriage waiting underneath a streetlamp. The footman gave a quick nod and opened the door. "Hey ummm I'll get with you girls later... I think we may have just hit pay dirt." Pointing to the carriage his eyebrow arched, as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You better not fuck this one up, P!!" Boni moaned watching as his figure slinked down the cobbled stones to the streets below.

"You can't be the only one that eats around here!" Cat eyed him wickedly her tongue crudely placed between her fingers.

Looking back to the girls he brought up his hand and their fit of laughter ceased instantly taking his direction. Even when they weren't on stage he still had the ability to conduct them, a well tuned machine always stays running.

"We gonna get screwed again ain't we?? Boni huffed turning to the rest girls he left behind.

"Yep at least someone will... he can't keep that snake of his in its sheath." Cat winked taking off her glasses, remembering the loss of their last cash cow as he was caught with both the Patron's wife and sister in a very compromising position.

"Listen you know what we gotta do." Sheila stepped in bringing Cat out of her thoughts.

"Take whatever he gives us and put half of it away." She responded on cue.

"You can't let him find it." Sheila said darkly a reminder of the last time he came upon their stash.

"Listen I'm gonna take what his ass owes me, OK." Boni began to boast confidently, but her body language softened as she saw the the hurt wash over Sheila's face.

"We gotta be here for each other, especially if we ever wanna make it back home. He needs you, but we need more."

"Fine... I got you girls. He makes it so damn hard though."

"He always does." Sheila's dark eyes watched longingly as his lithe frame slipped into the carriage, the door shutting softly behind him.

"Don't worry E. it's just the money." Cat grabbed her hand and squeezed reassuringly.

"One day it won't be though..."