THE RAIN hits harder, bouncing off the dark asphalt of the streets and reflecting off the headlights of the cars drunkenly passing by from the party. The water hits off the tires and soaks my thin black jacket, shoes slopping against the downpour as I turn street after street, lights fading behind me as I fall deeper into the midst of New York's jungle thicket.

The night guides me to the front steps of a building, its windows boarded shut with deep wood and the front door marked with paint. Other than that the building is actually pretty nice, almost new in appearance with its burnt bricks and newly placed plaster in between.

The mood of the night seems to be hesitation, one foot still lingering on the previous concrete step that leads up to the building. My eyes find their way upwards, counting out each vivid star that shines against the blue-black backdrop of New York. The rare sight washes away the tense ache that the party had gifted me, my shoulders falling and neck rolling with a newfound ease.

A light rap on the boarded up door and I'm in, the bulbs overhead uncharacteristically bright and the white tile of the front room shining enough to wash back my hair in. I stare  at the reflection with a hint of vanity, winking at the wavering face shining back at me.

"Having fun?" A voice snaps me back, a dark haired man standing in the doorway that leads to the next room over. His shirt is slung around his shoulder effortlessly, water dripping from his chin and beading around his chest from his ritualistic midnight showers.

The sight of him brings a slight smile to my lips, the movement echoing across to the other man in the room. "How was your party? Any good business?" He half-smiles, sinisterly showing off a tooth.

"I believe that info is reserved only for the boss, " I answer with a sly grin, leaning against a stone pillar offset in the middle of the room. The rough edges of the pillar catch at my shirt but I stay put, not wanting to falter the appearance I'd managed to give off. "not for second tiers like you, Moxie."

He only huffs under his breath, gliding into the light of the front room and placing a hand firmly over the pillar I'm attached to. Lips grazing my ear he lets out a stiff chuckle, looping his fingers between me and the pillar to unhook the caught fabric.

Triumphantly, he cocks a brow, never letting go off my shirt or leaning back, a game he plays with himself as he slowly draws closer, lips almost against mine betting on how much longer I can take it...

"Get the fuck off me!" I push back, face slightly heated at his close encounter. His breath is still lingering on my skin though I hastily scrub it away, keeping the man at arms length and throwing a punch when he attempts to glide closer for round two.

Mox's thick lips fall into a false pout, taking the shirt draped over his shoulders and wrapping it over my own, forcing me as close to him as we can get. His breath reeks of cough syrup, the scent about as bitter as his past and the soda that he's called for. "You never told me how the party was." The man whines, wet hair falling to one side as he cocks his head.

"The party was fine." I keep my responses short, not bothering to protest when Mox leads me into an adjacent room covered in red. He fumbles with a bottle of Gilded's pills on the vanity before sitting both of us across the room on the couch. I slump into the furry fabric, not realizing just how much my body aches from the walk there and back.

The overturned bottle from the vanity fills the room with a sickly sweet scent, Moxie popping enough between his lips to leave a horse unconscious. He never really seems to measure out the amount he takes, just dumping the bottle into his palm and leaving his high to chance. It's a mystery why he takes so many, just one pill is enough to give me headaches and tremors that last for a week. Yet he seems unaffected by the amount, continuing on the conversation as if nothing has happened.

"Did you see Gatsby?" He presses, pulling my legs over his lap as I fall deeper into the softened material.

As much as I try to distract myself with the pictures strung around the walls of the red room, Moxie won't let me go. His hands play with the fur of the couch, fumbling with the black end table and absentmindedly shaking another pill bottle as he awaits my answer.

"He was on the balcony, just, can I go to bed? We can speak in the morn-"

"Who was he with?" There's a hint of something undetectable in his tone, the way his face changes slightly and his body tenses, hand clasped tight around my thigh refusing to let me leave the plush couch.

I don't bother to answer the question, simply pushing away from the couch and leaving him alone in the red room, the indistinguishable look still plastered on his features. He draws his hands into the fabric, brushing at it before laying down, pressing a fifth pill tightly to his lips before falling asleep.

There's a newfound peace in him that has me glued to the doorway, unable to let him sleep in peace. Watching his shivering body, I quickly throw a blanket over him, brushing away at his hair slightly. His lips twitch along with his eyes, body turning in discomfort at my foreign touch.

He's an older brother of sorts, we came here at the same time, his parents had abandoned him and his right eye was masked with a blood soaked and moldy gauze. (I never learned the true story of how he managed to find himself on Gilded's doorstep, nor did I ever feel the need to ask, even years later, what the whole story of his being really was. It's a mystery that's settled deep within me and has yet to budge, a mystery I'm content with staying as just that.)

He had placed a scabbed hand over my shoulder and pulled me close on the doorstep of the grimy building, a man entering into the dark of the night as he stared into our souls, a smile scratched faintly into his marble exterior.

I can't remember what he said, just that he held us both by the hands and pressed his pursed lips to our orphan palms, and that a warmth I'd never felt had ran the course of my blood and I'd never felt more at home than in that moment with two strangers.

The strangers that are now family, the stranger I tuck into a blanket and fluff the pillow beneath his drying hair. It's the one time I really see him at a true peace, an innocence that left him so long ago finally returning with the end of each night. I leave him there, crossing the tiled hall to my bedroom and drawing tight the curtains over the one unboarded window of the building.

Crawling into the bed, blankets tied tight around my naked body I stare through the crack in the thick black curtains, moonlight streaming in and falling gracefully onto the sheets of the bed.

There's an imaginary heat that enters with the rays, spotted with starlight and waving with the passing by of a leaf or paper or an abandoned feather off a woman's gaudy hat. I can't sleep, there's still a party in my mind though each limb is far past gone, a struggle to just roll myself over in the bed. Yet I can't leave my thoughts alone, the man on the balcony somehow haunting, the final glance of the night not able to abandon me.

The night is long and thoughtful and exhausting. A night filled with tossing and turning and the moving picture of a balcony and champagne tower and colorful suits and pearls. A man opens the door to the spacious room, his coat dense and a few sparse hairs littering his squared jaw. His eyes fall on the slightly open window with disapproval, two long strides clearing the distance between the two as he forcefully shuts it, sitting himself on the bed with a thump. "I-"

"Just don't leave it open again."

His age is beginning to show, wrinkles forming around his mouth from years of work and the shadows around his eyes deepening in hue with each passing day. His scarred hands brush through my hair, an odd sense of contentment flooding me with the motion.

He kisses my hand with nostalgia, rubbing at the wet spot and pulling me closer than usual. I can't help but back away a bit, body tensing at the unfamiliar move. Trying not to show my discomfort I allow my body to fall back into him, wary of his next move and ready to sprint if absolutely necessary.

"Listen Baby," I flinch at the name, is it really necessary we all have ridiculous nicknames? "I have a favor to ask of you. An important favor."

Answering with a raised brow he lets out a disappointed growl, standing from off the bed with discontent in every move. "You said that you wanted to do more than sales and I'm giving you that chance."

With this I'm out the bed, blanket still draped and tangled around my jittery body as I hug at the man in excitement, his body loosening at the touch of my arms around him. He lets out a tight chuckle, awkwardly running a hand down my back in one swift movement before holding me away at arms length.

He's not one for intimate contact, preferring to keep things at a distance with nearly everyone the man has ever met. It makes things a bit awkward between him and the rest of the boys but makes for a fun game to see how uncomfortable we can make him.

"Anything, I'll do anything I promise I can." I don't even realize I'm jumping up and down like a child until his firm hands pause me, the excitement still bouncing through each bone. The anticipation of the task nearly kills me, his words slow and precise with orders.

"I believe we have bit of competition in the market. Gilded isn't the only pills passing by nowadays, and that means business is done, Baby. I want you to find out who's taking our job," he emphasis the our, a sinister facade falling over his features, arms drawing me close at the mention of us, the mention of the family. "and I want you to kill them."

The metal of the gun dropped in my shaking palms stays cool. An inhumane feel, the bottom of my stomach falling out as I choke a bit on my words, shivering with discomfort at the thought of the contrast, the warmth of running blood on my hands, the chill of their lifeless skin.

With a dry swallow I nod, too afraid to speak, too nervous to even walk him out the bedroom. He gifts me a fatherly smile and nod, leaving me with one last word.

"I know you can do it, Baby, you wouldn't want to disappoint the family."

The door closes swiftly behind him and I'm left shaking alone, the metal of the gun reflecting my terrified eyes back at me. The eyes that are soon to witness the death of a man. The eyes that shed a silent tear and close in despair against the cotton lining of a pillow, forcefully trying to block the task from mind.