"Oh my God. Thad?"

KIERA.

With Dylan's gold wristwatch secured in my bra, I snuck out of the house, past the sleeping butler. It was in my favour that he did not have guards at his service because my escape plan would have been screwed.

Maybe he did not bother because the crime rate was generally low in his rich-dudes-only part of San Juan. I scoffed, zipped up the black hoodie up to my neck and strolled to the nearest clubhouse I had noticed on my first date with Ra, Dylan and the phenomenal rockstar. I had affected awe at every shop on the turn of a street, the lively carefree nature of the locals, how much Dylan left in the name of a tip. I was thrown back there, into the bustling nightlife of the fancy island.

As a daughter of the night.

The suffocating heat combined with the noise almost made me jettison the hoodie entirely. Most girls within my radius had their tops barely three notches away from their nipples and I could pass for a nun in their midst. I presumed that I would find a generous customer willing to splurge on Dylan's beloved possession in my care, probably in the clubhouse around the block. A shot or two of cloyingly sweet hot toddy would do.

Scenes from the film of my tragic life replayed as I halted at the sliding glass doors of the club. Who among the insane crowd, seeming to be determined to go bonkers and pass out in strangers' beds when the night rolled out, would be interested in buying the wristwatch?

They twisted and jammed and twerked to the music, something with a slurring black vibe in the red dark ambience. I fought an overwhelming surge of emotions chasing me in the shadows of my past, from all the clubs I'd been. I dashed inside before I had the chance to change my mind and run back home, strutted to the bar and ordered my darling hot toddy, dug out the three dollars, ten cents more shrouded in my undies, slid them across the counter to the barman.

He winked, leaned in and said, "You're new here."

" Nah. Been around for a couple of weeks but busy with work."

"Okay," he raised his hands as a mock surrender salute, "If any of those guys piss you off, let me know and I'll kick him out. This is a pretty tough area, you know. Lots of drinking, gambling, strip dancing and close to banging. Sometimes one nigger pawns his hard gold for a piffling sum when he's dead drunk." He worked deftly on mixing another cocktail, yelled to someone behind me, "Yo man! What's up?"

"How piffling?" I gulped my drink in a hurry and ordered another.

"Ten, maybe twenty?" He shrugged non-committally.

"Dollars?"

"Thousand dollars."

"You have something you wanna pawn?"

"Um," I shuffled around my bra, winced when the edges of the watch cut into sensitive skin up there. "This," I showed him the watch, watching him rub his hands in pleasure or undisguised disbelief.

"Where did you__ hey man! Come here." I twisted my head to catch a glimpse of the dark-haired man wearing sunshades just as dark. He whispered something to the hipster he was dancing with, pecked her lips, and gave her his drink.

His swagger was exaggerated as he joined us.

"What the__ damnit, dude. Where did you get this?" he picked the watch, examining it this way and that.

I squirmed, doubting if I had any business there. Grab it, Kiera. Grab it while you can still run and they'll do nothing but laugh at your tail between your legs. But I disobeyed my conscience and stayed.

"I think you should be talking to her," the barman nodded towards me. "Got any hot deals lately?"

"Nah. Kinda broke."

"The pawn shop opens at 9am tomorrow. It's 10pm-ish now, by this time tomorrow, I could be the next big shot."

"Excuse you?"

"I'm buying it. Say, lil girl, how much do you wanna sell? I'm thinking five thousand."

"Ten thousand." He smiled sassily, reminding me of my big brother's smile that could light up the world.

"Are you serious?" the barman hung open his mouth. "You know I ain't got that much."

"Did you think I'd let you buy me out of my little sister's stuff? And what're you doing here?" he glanced the dancers milling around.

Someone popped champagne; it sprayed into the stuffy air. The song changed to chest-thumping beats and rapid fire. My hair was getting frizzled, sticking out at odd angles from behind my ear.

"Is everybody here crazy?" I asked

First, a barman snitching. Now a random guy calling me his sister?

I winced as a dull ache spread through my breasts. When Nick and I were having sex in every room in his box apartment, he bullied me into paying a lot of money for a short fat doctor to insert silicone implants into my girls, because he said, and I quote, "Your rack is smaller than my baby sister's. At times I'm not sure if I'm sleeping with a woman or another guy." I made a mental note to take out the implants. Soon. Of course Dylan did not know. No wonder he was spellbound to me.

The man who addressed me as his sister removed those specs. All at once, the gold eyes hit me hard and fast. I would recognize them anywhere.

"Oh my God. Thad?"

"Mary."

Yes, it was certainly him. My big brother.

Shrieking, I hugged him tight and could have gone on till the night grew old, but recoiled as my breasts hurt. He freed me immediately. He knew. Thaddeus always knew.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Yeah, it's okay. Really."

Since the barman lost interest in us as soon as he understood that I was in safe hands and the dancefloor was packed with most patrons, we were almost alone at the bar. Thad squeezed my hand thrice. I understood that signal, like in the old days. Let's get outta here.