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70% Reincarnated in Banshee Town / Chapter 48: Ex-husband

章 48: Ex-husband

The movements of the two stopped suddenly. Siobhan quickly released his hand and Ethan also sat down.
 — Are you waiting for someone?
 —No and you.?
 They both said in unison, and then they both shook their heads.
 Siobhan had no choice but to fix his clothes and went to open the door with an expression of disgust.
 Ethan took the glass of wine and took a sip to suppress his anger, now the atmosphere had cooled and he was very hesitant that they could continue, if he could he would break the head of the one who had interrupted them.
 After a while, a small discussion began to faintly heard outside the door, which then moved to the front garden. Ethan felt something was wrong, so he quickly got up, took the Glock out of the cabinet next to him, and walked out the door.
 Outside the house, Siobhan and a long-haired man argued under the large tree in the front garden, and from what I could see, things were heating up, from the way they spoke they seemed to be known, so he had no choice but to insert the Glock at the waist and get closer to calm the environment.
 —Siobhan, you need help.
 —Damn, where did this asshole come from?
 When the long-haired man saw Ethan leave Siobhan's house, he was uncomfortable with his appearance, his face quickly contracted clearly annoyed, and he reached out to push Ethan.
 Just as he was concerned about not having a place to vent his anger, Ethan quickly grabbed him by the wrist and tugged at it, followed by a movement of his feet. The long-haired man immediately flew to one side and fell to the ground.
 —Ethan, detente.
 Siobhan quickly stopped him and prevented him from continuing.
 Ethan saw that he was an acquaintance of Siobhan, so he couldn't act anymore and left him ri
 —Little Squirrel, have you seen her? attacked me without provocation.
 —It hit me. Now that you're the cop, aren't you going to do something? You must arrest him. I'm going to press charges.
 The long-haired man spat angrily on the dirt and grass stalks in his mouth, got up and yelled at Siobhan.
 —Well, apparently you were the one who attacked the police first, weren't you? - Ethan said he raised the corner of his clothes, exposing the gun stuck in his waist, and gave him a severe smile.
 The long-haired man immediately closed his mouth and looked at him furiously.
 —Ethan, can you come in first and let us talk? I can take care of this.
 Siobhan took his hand and said with a serious expression.
 — Are you sure you can do it alone?
Siobhan said nothing and nodded silently.
Ethan had no choice but to give up. She looked at the man giving him a warning with her eyes and then walked towards the house, the subject was frightened by Ethan's cold gaze, he could not help but step back. Then he clenched his fists, trying not to be a coward.
 It wasn't until Ethan walked away that the man breathed a sigh of relief. However, Ethan did not enter the house, but stayed on the porch. After lighting a cigarette, she put her hand on the handle of the gun and stared at the man.
After a few words with Siobhan, he left in a hurry.
 After Siobhan stayed there for a while, he turned around and came closer. He took the cigarette out of Ethan's mouth and gave him a long drag.
 —That's my ex-husband, Brice Conner.
 As Siobhan spoke, he couldn't help but reach out to rub his shoulders.
 — What does he want from you?
 Ethan knew she was divorced, but had never asked about it.
—I wanted him to lift the restraining order, otherwise he couldn't find a job in town.
 Siobhan finished the sentence and walked to the house.
 — Did it hurt you?
 Ethan followed her hastily and immediately understood the cause of the divorce. They both had no children. Most cases in which a woman requests a restraining order in court are due to domestic violence.
 Now he felt that his attack had been too light and that it would do him good if it had caused the damn more pain.
Siobhan nodded, touched her right shoulder sitting on the sofa.
Noticing his movements, Ethan reached out to grab his neck. Siobhan wanted to dodge it, but when he saw Ethan's determined eyes, he had to stop.
Ethan grabbed his neck with his fingers and pulled, exposing his shoulders, on them was a huge scar on the skin.
 — What did he do to you? —Ethan asked, squinting.
 —This was with an iron —Siobhan replied, dressing quickly to cover the scar and smiling nonchalantly — That is already behind him, he already paid the price. The prison has made him mature and his temperament has improved.
 —What hasn't changed is that he still wants to hit people —Ethan said as he sat on the couch and had a glass of wine.
—Once he hit a guy and sent him to the hospital just because he saw me talking to him at the bar. Can you believe it? Although in the end it was alcohol that made him do those things.
 Ethan noticed Siobhan's gaze and didn't care at all, slowly drinking the red wine in the glass.
 —He does that kind of thing because that's his nature. Don't blame alcohol.
 He left the glass on the table and continued:
 — What are you going to do now?
 Siobhan shook his head.
 —I'm going to lift the restraining order. Brice's cousin offered him a job, but only if I withdraw the order against him, and perhaps he has changed. I don't want to be an obstacle for him to get a job.
 —It is a completely personal decision, I don't think I have the right to tell you if it is the right thing or not. —Ethan replied with a shrug.
 —Sorry, I'm not in the mood now —Siobhan said leaning on him.
 —Of imports.
 After a few jolts, Ethan lost interest. He hugged Siobhan and the two of them stared silently at the television huddled.
 Dismiss of a mouse, Siobhan whisper:
 —Oz is not the champion.
 There was a crisp "pop" sound and Ethan's slap fell hard.
The next day, Siobhan did not show up for work at the police station.
Ethan knew that he had gone to discuss the matter with his ex-husband, but he did not worry too much.
During that time, Hood handed him a secure mobile phone, mentioning that Job had given it to him, to contact him in an emergency, without worrying about the security of the call. Ethan smiled at the gesture, surely Job seemed angry at making him come to Banshee to speak to him.
In the afternoon, he received a message from Siobhan. He told her that he had already settled the matter with his ex and that there was still a bottle of red wine left that had been opened. The vague tone of the message did not go unnoticed, surely he wanted them to finish what he had started the night before.
Ethan replied with a smile, writing that a bottle would not be enough, and that he would bring more. After work, instead of going home, he stopped by the supermarket to buy some drinks and snacks. With everything ready, he went to Siobhan's residence.
However, when parking and lowering the bags from the passenger seat, a strange feeling invaded him. Something was wrong.
He looked at the house and realized that the windows were completely dark. There were no lights on, and the front door was ajar. Ethan's heart sped up. He left the bags in the car, pulled out his Glock quickly, and headed for the front door.
With a mixture of caution and anxiety, he pushed the door with the barrel of the gun, ready for what he could find inside
Now darkness reigned in the room. The silence was only interrupted by the faint sound of a breath. Ethan walked with light steps into the living room, where he saw Siobhan sitting on the sofa, holding a gun in his hands.
Not detecting any other threats around him, Ethan relaxed enough to reach out and press the light switch.
The sudden glow made Siobhan startle, quickly raising his gun to aim.
—It's me, what's wrong with you? —Ethan said, bending quickly behind a corner to prevent the shot from hitting him.
—Come out, please just go. — Siobhan ordered, with a muffled but steady voice.
Ethan poked his head out and saw that she had left the gun on the table. He exhaled with relief, keeping his Glock in the holster and approaching.
— What happens? Why didn't you turn on the lights? —he asked, but the answer came to him in the form of an alarming image: blood dripped from Siobhan's chin.
Alarmed, Ethan sat next to him, watching the wound on his eyebrow.
— What happened?
—He said he had stopped drinking —Siobhan muttered — He begged me to lift the ban so he could get a job.
Ethan took a handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from Siobhan's eyebrow.
— Was it Brice? —asked calmly.
Ethan frowned, feeling a wave of anger begin to rise in his chest. He forced himself to remain calm, allowing him to speak.
—She asked me to get back together —she continued, without moving her eyes from that far corner where she had taken refuge —. Don't accept, and lost control
Ethan's heart sped up. That word, loaded with contempt and resentment, echoed in the room.
—I find out you spent the night here, and ... —his voice broke a second — started hitting me.
Ethan clenched his fists, struggling to control the fury that flooded him. His mind was already calculating, weighing his options. Siobhan had endured more than he should. He leaned toward her, whispering:
—I'm going to look for it.
Ethan's fury grew, but he suppressed it.
— Do you know where he lives now? —asked quietly.
Siobhan looked at him, guessing his intentions.
— What do you want to do?
—Don't get me wrong, I just want to talk to him —Ethan smiled, although his eyes didn't share the gesture.
—The Valley Motel —Siobhan replied finally.
Ethan nodded, patted his shoulder, and got up, ready to go.
—Wait a moment.
Siobhan stopped him, grabbing his hand.
—I don't want you to do this.
—Okay, I'll just talk to him —Ethan said seriously.
She looks at him for a moment before shaking her head.
—I am afraid. I don't want to be alone. Stay with me for a while, can you?
Siobhan's vulnerable gaze disarmed Ethan. He clenched his teeth, frustrated, but had no choice but to contain his anger. He picked her up and carried her to his room.
Leaving her in bed, Siobhan took her hand, refusing to release her. Ethan, resigned, took off the equipment, put it in the closet, and lay down next to it.
He decided that once Siobhan fell asleep, he would go find Brice. But when he barely leaned on the mattress, he felt something strange.
—Siobhan, what are you doing? —she asked, noticing that she had handcuffed her wrist to the bed.
—Sorry, Ethan —murmured her —. I can't let you do it.
Ethan looked at her, incredulously, as she got up, picked up her equipment and threw it across the room.
—Let go of me —he said in frustration, waving his wrists.
—Stop fighting, it is useless —Siobhan replied in a firm voice — I know what you want to do and I will not allow it.
—I don't want to hurt him —Ethan — insisted I just want to let him know that he can't touch you.
— Do you think I'm going to believe that? —she said from the door.
Ethan was silent, surprised by Siobhan's determination.
Before I could say anything else, she left the room. The noise of the tires skidding and the roar of the engine quickly faded.
Frustrated, Ethan struggled against the handcuffs, but was unable to free himself. He thought about his current situation and took his gun out of his space, but then reconsidered shooting the handcuffs. If he did, he would have to explain how he had a hidden weapon in such an unexpected place.
Then he remembered the phone Hood had given him. He quickly put the gun away and pulled out the cell phone. When turned on, only an unknown number appeared.
Without hesitation, he dialed. After a few seconds, the call was connected and an electronic sound was heard on the other side of the line before they hung up.
A few moments later, his phone rang.
— Ethan? —Job asked, his voice much clearer.
—It is an emergency. I need Hood's number.
Job was somewhat irritated, but sent him the number. Ethan called quickly and, after a few tones, Hood replied.
— What's going on? —Hood asked, in a low voice.
—It's Ethan. Siobhan went after his ex-husband, Brice, came to his house tonight and beat him up. She is furious and I don't know what she is capable of in that state, the valley motel goes.
There was a brief pause before Hood replied:
— Where are you?
Ethan looked at the handcuffs in frustration and replied:
—I can't move for now. You have to go stop her.
—Understood.
Hood hung up, leaving Ethan somewhat calmer. He knew that despite his impulsiveness, Hood could take care of the situation.
He put the phone in his pocket, struggled once more with the handcuffs, but to no avail. He lay on the bed, frustrated, waiting for Hood to arrive in time before something worse happened.

章 49: Show in NY

After a long wait, Ethan had been waiting in silence, with every second lengthening his uncertainty. The sudden sound of an engine echoed in the distance, breaking the stillness. It was a car that was slowly approaching the house. Each vibration of the engine seemed to increase the pressure on Ethan's chest, as if a dark feeling was sneaking up on the walls.
The heavy steps that followed when the engine was turned off confirmed this.
Her body reacted before her mind. In a fluid and precise movement, he carried both hands behind his back, hiding his intention. Beretta's familiar cold steel texture touched her skin, and her expert fingers wrapped the handle naturally. The pistol shone in the dim light of the place, as a promise of security, or perhaps of impending conflict.
With controlled breathing, Ethan adjusted his posture, attentive to every sound. 
The door opened and Hood appeared on the threshold.
Seeing Ethan's tense gaze, he suddenly laughed. Ethan returned the gun to space, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at him.
Hood caught the pillow, pulled it away, and wiped the tears from his eyes.
—I will go, I think you have things to talk about, I will leave you alone.
Siobhan appeared behind Hood, holding a pillow and said in an apologetic tone. — Sorry, he saw your car outside and insisted on going in to take a look.
Under Ethan's murderous gaze, Hood suppressed a smile, turned around, and left. The sound of the door closing was soon heard.
After Hood left, the room was silent.
Siobhan hugged the pillow, sat on the edge of the bed, and looked at Ethan timidly, not at all looking like the fierce person who had come out before. He had dust all over his body, the corners of his mouth were swollen, and the knuckles of his hands were bruised. It looked like he had been through a fierce fight.
— Are you okay? Tell me you broke the asshole's face. — Ethan cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
Siobhan clenched his fist and felt a pang of pain, but inside he was extremely happy.
—He will never look for me again. — He said with a slight smile and a determined look.
Being abused by Brice in the past had always been a shadow on her heart, and the huge scar on her shoulder constantly reminded her of what she had experienced.
So he decided to join the Banshee Police Department, he wanted to change something in his life. And now that he had left in the past and faced his demons, he was extremely happy.
— Where's Brice? I hope you haven't gone too far, I don't want you can't lose your job because of this trash —Ethan said as he leaned on the head of the bed.
—Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I just broke the arm he hit me with —Siobhan replied, breathing deeply, relieved.
Ethan nodded, without asking more details. The fact that Hood had returned Siobhan meant that the situation was under control. The authority and capacity of a police chief should not be underestimated, even departments like the FBI could be challenged if pressured enough.
— You're not too angry, are you? —Siobhan asked anxiously.
Ethan shook his head. She knew that Siobhan needed to solve it her way, and she had to fix it herself, otherwise she could never live without that shadow in her heart.
He shook his arm, causing the handcuffs to clink against the bed pole.
—Untie me fast, I have to go to the bathroom.
Siobhan stuck out his tongue, hurried to take the key out of his pocket, and released the handcuffs.
—By the way, how did you manage to notify Chief Hood? —asked curiously.
Ethan, prepared, took his phone out of his pants pocket and showed it, looking at it with bright eyes.
Siobhan noticed Ethan's gaze and suddenly felt that something was wrong. He quickly got up, wanting to escape.
—I said, do you think you can run away?
With quick movements, Ethan grabbed her arm and threw her back onto the bed.
Siobhan tried to get up, but Ethan immobilized her with his free arm.
She gave a faked scream and, after a simulated fight, stopped resisting. He looked at Ethan with a playful smile on his lips and said:
— What do you plan to do? 
Ethan clenched his teeth.
—I'm just putting things on hand.
He showed the handcuffs he was still holding.
—I'm someone vengeful you know. You left me trapped here for over half an hour, so now I'll lock you up for an hour. It's not too much, is it?
Siobhan pursed his lips and, after thinking about it for a moment, clasped his hands obediently.
Ethan smiled with satisfaction, then handcuffed her without hesitation to the bed pole.
After flexing his wrist, he left the room.
Despite Siobhan's calls, he found the remaining bottle of red wine from the night before. He uncorked it, took a sip directly from the bottle, and then lit a cigarette, feeling relief.
He returned to the bedroom, sat in the chair at the foot of the bed, crossed his legs, while the cigarette butt shone in his hand.
Siobhan, with a challenging expression, took off his shoes and threw them against the wall near Ethan.
— So what? Are you just going to handcuff me?
Ethan got up, took her by the ankles.
—Of course not. But for now this is enough for me.
Siobhan's chest rose and fell sharply as he bit his lip.
An hour later, Ethan came out of the living room in a good mood and took a can of beer out of the fridge. With a "pop" sound, the can bubbled up and took a long sip.
—Bring me one too, you bastard.
Siobhan's hoarse voice echoed from the bedroom, a little lazy.
—Wait a minute.
Ethan responded nonchalantly, took another can of beer, and closed the refrigerator.
Just as he was about to return to the bedroom, something hanging on the wall caught his attention. He raised the corners of his mouth, grabbed Siobhan's police uniform, and walked into the room.
Just as he was about to return to the bedroom, something hanging on the wall captured his attention. Ethan stopped, his eyes fixed on Siobhan's police uniform, perfectly lined up next to the coats. A slow smile formed on his lips.
Without thinking twice, he grabbed the uniform and walked into the room, his silent but safe steps. The door was ajar, revealing Siobhan, who had his back to him, untying his hair after a long day. Fatigue seemed to have gripped his movements, but when Ethan crossed the threshold with his uniform in hand, something in the atmosphere changed.
—Look what I found —Ethan said in a playful tone as he raised the uniform with a raised eyebrow.
Siobhan turned slowly to look at him, his dark eyes full of curiosity and contained desire. A spark ignited between the two, a silent understanding that had been floating for weeks, waiting for the right moment.
— And what do you plan to do with that? —she replied, her voice serious and slightly provocative, as she leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms.
Ethan advanced without breaking eye contact, gently dropping the uniform onto the bed. It approached until it was a few centimeters from it, the heat of their bodies beginning to mix.
—Maybe you should wear it ... —he whispered, sliding one hand over his waist with unexpected softness, while the other traced the curve of his neck, slowly rising towards his cheek.
Siobhan let out a small laugh between teeth, the atmosphere charged with an anticipation that both had been avoiding. Her lips met abruptly, an explosion of pent-up desire bursting between them. What started as a kiss full of contained passion quickly became more urgent, deeper.
Ethan's hands found their way under Siobhan's shirt, his warm skin bristled under his touch, and she drew him closer, dropping any trace of control he had attempted to maintain. The forgotten uniform on the bed was now nothing more than a symbol of something bigger that they both knew they were about to cross.
With an agile movement, Ethan raised her gently, leading her to bed while her lips never parted. Siobhan stopped him for a moment, looking at him intently with his dark, emotionally charged eyes, as if he wanted to make sure they were both in the same place.
— Are you sure? —he asked, his voice serious, but with a vulnerability that he rarely showed.
She didn't need to say anything else. The way he drew him to her, whispering in her ear with a mixture of desire and tenderness, was all he needed to hear.
What followed was an intimate dance of bodies and emotions, each touch, each kiss, a release from everything they had kept below the surface.
The next morning, Ethan woke up full of energy. There was no other way: Siobhan had his thigh on top of him.
— Are you awake? —Siobhan whispered, slightly moving his thighs.
Ethan turned and saw her blinking, still in the same shirt from the night before.
—Smoking is bad for health —he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and shaking his head while exhaling the smoke.
— What time is it? —Siobhan asked, looking at the clock on the table.
—It is still early. How about we exercise more? —proposed, with a mischievous smile.
Ethan turned off the butt and nodded.
—Exercise is good for health.
After another sweaty "exercise", they headed to the bathroom. While showering, Siobhan noticed the scar on Ethan's back of his thigh and leaned down to examine it.
— Is this from the last time? It is not very large, but it can be repaired. I have a friend who is a doctor in New York. Do you want me to contact her for you?
Although the wound Martin had caused him had healed, the scar remained. Ethan didn't care much, but after listening to her, he nodded.
—If it's not much of a problem, please help me contact her —she said, in a whisper.
After resting in the bathroom, they went to the police station.
A week later, Siobhan gave Ethan a business card.
—I notified my friend. You already have an appointment and you can go whenever you want —said.
Ethan looked at the card once more, the name "Marie Sebastian" was printed in black letters on the white surface, along with a phone number and an address on the reverse side. Something in that name was spinning in his head, a curiosity he couldn't ignore. He made a quick decision: he would take advantage of his rest day to travel to New York. If he started up immediately, he could make the trip, take care of whatever that address revealed to him, and return in time for his morning shift within two days.
New York was not that far from Banshee, and Ethan was no stranger to long trips. Without wasting time, he packed the essentials in a backpack: some changes of clothes, his gun, and some cash. The clock marked the end of her journey, and with the sunset light still painting the sky orange and purple, Ethan climbed onto his Dodge Challenger. He started the engine with the characteristic roar he left town.
The journey began. As he drove down Banshee's lonely roads to the interstate, the city lights were left behind, replaced by the dark cloak of the coming night. With each kilometer, the tranquility of the town faded, giving way to the hustle and bustle of the road, the signs of the highways and the incessant hum of the cars that crossed the distance.
During the first hours, the landscape surrounding Ethan was familiar: thick forests, soft hills, and the occasional flash of an animal crossing the road. However, as night fell, the lights began to intensify and the landscape changed dramatically. The fields and hills gave rise to large illuminated structures that tore through the night sky. Freeways began to get more congested, full of trucks and vehicles of all kinds, all converging in one direction: New York.
Finally, after several hours behind the wheel and with exhaustion beginning to weigh on his shoulders, Ethan was able to see in the distance the imposing towers of the largest international city in the world. The flickering lights of the skyscrapers welcomed him as guardians of steel and glass, as traffic increased and the rhythm of the city began to envelop him.
Looking at the fashionable men and women on the street, Ethan looked at his own shoes, the jeans he was wearing, and his white shirt. He smiled and shook his head. No wonder Job keeps saying that Banshee is a rural place that smells like cow dung.
After half an hour of dodging traffic, he finally reached a secluded neighborhood. Fortunately, there were no homeless people on the streets. When he got out of the car, he saw a police car pass by. Otherwise, Ethan was very hesitant that his car had disappeared the next day.
After closing the car door, Ethan dialed Job's phone number. After a few seconds, the phone hung up. As he dialed again, he heard Job's voice come from above.
— Hey, over here!
He quickly looked up. Job leaned out of a window on the fifth floor and greeted him.
— And where do I enter? —Ethan asked, raising his hands.
Job pointed to one side and shouted:
—Go to the main door of the building and take the elevator. If you're stupid enough not to find the front door, you can fly up!
As soon as he finished speaking, he closed the window. Ethan had no choice but to lock the car and reached the fifth floor in no time. After looking at the room number, he knocked on the door several times and soon there was movement inside. Once, twice, three times, Job opened the door after unlocking three locks.
— Is it dangerous around here?
Ethan clashed his fists with him and entered the house. Job closed a few more doors and said:
—Sit where you want. You do not understand, it is never necessary to be cautious, and more in this city.
Ethan knew that Job's financial situation was quite good, but he did not expect his residence to be so peculiar. It was ridiculously simple, almost without decoration. There were several bean sofas in the living room, surrounding a glass table in the center, on which rested a strange-looking Arab hookah.
The interior of the apartment looked rough, with a concrete floor and a showcase and a refrigerator against the wall. Job opened the fridge and threw a bottle of mineral water at him.
— How many days do you plan to stay?
—I don't know, but maybe I'll only be here a couple of nights.
Ethan didn't tell Job specifically what he was there for, anyway, it would depend on the situation.
—Okay, so you can stay here —Job said, opening a door and showing a new mattress and two duvets on the floor — I bought them all today. You can use them however you want. 
—Thanks —Ethan said, raising the water bottle.
—Fuckyou, of course you have to thank me. I don't forget that the first time I spent the night at your house, I slept on the floor next to Sugar.
Job crossed his arms, pretending to be upset, he would never understand how this guy's head worked. Ethan chuckled, went back to the living room, dumped his body on a blue pouf sofa, and said to Job:
—Although I want to be nice to you, this place does not agree with your style, I thought you would live something more luxurious to tell the truth.
Job also settled into a pouf-like sofa and replied nonchalantly:
—I rent more than a dozen places in New York and change places every week. Guess how much it would cost me to renovate all those places? I am not rich.
—By the way, I only have one rule —added Job, playing with the Arab pipe in front of him.
—Just say it —Ethan said nonchalantly.
—Don't tell others about my personal life. Forget it, you're a bastard anyway. Maybe you're even more messy than me.
After a while, Job took several puffs, exhaling smoke with a mixed fruit scent.
—Fuck you, I'm not that kind of person.
— Really? —Ethan — scoffed. How sweet is the mayor's wife?
Job, without flinching, motioned for Ethan to take the pipe.
—She is just a friend, I only keep her company from time to time.
—Yes, of course, and Clinton was only giving editorial advice to her secretary at midnight. Do you have another story?
Ethan, used to his complaints, took the disposable mouthpiece that was on the table. After removing the plastic wrap, he put it in the red pipe and took a deep breath. A fruity scent filled his interior, and when he exhaled it forcefully, the room was flooded with smoke.
— Do you have any plans for the night? —Job asked.
—Yes —Ethan replied, nodding.
— And what are they? —Job asked, crossing his legs.
—Follow you wherever you go — Ethan replied, shrugging.
Job choked for a moment and then, with bright eyes, said.
—It has been prepared for a long time. Take a shower first and put on something decent, I can still smell the dung on your clothes. We will go to a club that I usually go to.
Ethan, satisfied, walked to the window to contemplate the night view of New York.
In the middle of the night, while ordinary people rested, the night owls were ready to act.
Job dressed in a seductive suit: black leather skirt, white shirt, wig up to the sky, and bright purple eyeshadow. Seeing that Ethan was still wearing the same clothes for the day, Job cursed.
— Damn! If you are dressed like this, please stay away from me.
—Please, we are not going to a catwalk, we are just having fun —Ethan said, putting on a leather jacket with indifference.
—Style, do you understand what it means? 
—With my face, no matter what the girls wear they don't care.
Ethan laughed out loud and left the room first. Job closed the door angrily and followed him through the elevator.
Since they were going to have fun, they didn't drive. They called a taxi and headed straight for Brooklyn. Ethan could not distinguish east from west, north, or south, while watching the night scene constantly change.
Soon after, they reached another remote neighborhood. As he got out of the car, Ethan saw a long line in front of him. I didn't know how many people were lining up there, anxiously waiting to get in. He followed Job as they passed the line. Ethan delighted in all kinds of beauties dressed in flashy clothes.
— Fuckyou, move bitch! —Job snapped, causing annoying glances from several people as they advanced.
Ethan looked at him askance and, with an ironic smile.
Job paid no attention at all, walking calmly, as if parading on a red carpet, enjoying the provocations of other clients.
Ethan quickly quickened his pace and walked alongside Job.
— Just like that?
Job looked at him arrogantly.
—Easy, you're with me, let me show you how it's done on my ground —Job said with a cunning smile.
Without stopping, Job advanced towards the entrance to the nightclub. Two giant guys in dark suits, who looked like something out of a gangster movie, guarded the entrance, blocking it with a velvet rope.
In many of America's most exclusive nightclubs, this type of control was standard. The regulations forced to limit the number of people inside according to the capacity of the premises, and if they exceeded that figure, the sanctions could be severe.
So there were always these "porters" at the door, making sure no one else entered until some were gone. During the busiest nights, they only let a few pass after others had left. So if you wanted to know if a club was in fashion, you just had to take a look at the line of people waiting outside.
Job walked to the front of the line, raised his hand, and shook that of the guard. Immediately, the man in the black suit removed the rope and let Job and Ethan pass.
This movement immediately sparked a cry of protest. Job raised his middle finger and, without looking back, entered.
— Are you a regular customer here? —Ethan asked, looking around curiously.
—No —Job said with a smirk, shaking his head — But here I am a super VIP.
Ethan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else. He followed Job as they crossed a pair of thick, soundproof doors. Suddenly, an explosion of sound hit him squarely, as if a wave of noise had been thrown at his face. He felt his heart race to the rhythm of the electronic music that echoed throughout the club, vibrating in his bones.
The air was charged, a suffocating mixture of cigarette smoke, spilled alcohol, and expensive perfumes. The crowd moved frantically under the strobe lights, a sea of bodies flailing in unison on the dance floor. Men and women swayed without inhibitions, lost in the chaotic atmosphere that filled the center of the place.
The lights flickered illuminating everything in a psychedelic way, creating an atmosphere full of hormones. Ethan followed Job to a remote table in a perfect location. It wasn't too eye-catching, but it had a clear view of the dance floor and stage.
 Seeing Job, the waiter quickly removed the ropes and let them pass. Once sitting on the half-soft sofa, the waiter handed them a list of drinks, which Job looked at without interest before setting aside. The elegant names it contained caused a headache.
Lighting his cigarette, Ethan looked toward the dance floor, where a woman dressed in tight clothing danced vigorously. Ethan looked closer and then took a look of disbelief at Job.
—Is that girl a man —he said, somewhat incredulous.
Job's face was full of joy, which made Ethan relax. He knew he wouldn't be drunk enough not to be able to return with two men at the end of the night.
Soon, the booth table was filled with several drinks. It was evident that they were there to flirt. Before long, the booth was full of people. On Ethan's side, all the people were women dressed provocatively; On Job's side, on the other hand, the men dressed in extravagant clothes and showed an effeminate air.
While Ethan was talking to a woman wearing a tight dress, Job patted her on the arm.
—I'm going to settle an issue, I'm coming back. —Job told him.
—Okay, no problem —Ethan replied, waving his hand without paying too much attention to him, busy in his conversation.
After a while, the music at the nightclub began to slow down, the lights dimmed, and people stopped dancing.
— What's going on? — Ethan asked a gothic man sitting next to him.
—No, tonight's show is about to start —answered the Gothic with excitement, clapping enthusiastically.
— Show?
—Yes, it is spectacular, just wait.
Ethan lit another cigarette with some anticipation. The lights went out completely, and suddenly two beams of light illuminated the stage. Amidst the lights, a man in a palatial dress and thick makeup had his back to the audience.
Suddenly, dynamic music flooded the place. The man on stage began to move to the rhythm of the music, raised a hand and snatched his fingers. At his signal, sexy dancers dressed in ballet jumped onto the stage, lining up behind him, performing nimble and sensual movements.
Ethan, cup in hand, watched with his eyes squinted. Then the music turned up, the lights glowed brightly, and the blond man turned softly, taking the microphone to start singing.
Ethan stopped drinking abruptly. The person on stage, although disguised, was unmistakably Job.
Job, completely immersed in his performance, jumped onto the sofa with a bottle in his hand, inviting everyone to dance to the rhythm of the music. The atmosphere at the club exploded under Ethan's direction, and men and women alike began to join the party.
When Job noticed the enthusiasm of the audience, he winked at Ethan and, without stopping, he came down from the stage to approach his booth. The dancers followed, surrounding him with their long legs, making Ethan's area the center of attention.
Just as the party reached its peak, a high-pitched voice interrupted the moment.
—Hey, weirdo, is your clothes pretty. Did your dad buy it for you before or after he caught you?
Job was paralyzed for an instant, and then scratched his neck with the microphone. The music stopped immediately.
—Sorry, the music was too loud. Could you repeat it?
Job pointed the microphone at a small nearby table. Three middle-aged men were sitting around her. The nightclub was silent, and all eyes turned to them.
One of the bald men leaned back in his chair and said with a provocative smile:
— Didn't you hear it right? I will repeat it to you. I said those clothes you are wearing were given to you for letting them catch you.
The audience started booing, but the bald man seemed to enjoy the attention. Seeing security personnel approach, Job raised his hand to stop them.
—This is a place where we can all express ourselves freely, and that includes those three gentlemen. 
The crowd was silent. Job returned to the stage and pointed to the table with a light focused on them.
—In fact, I admire them. They must have mustered a lot of courage to come here, especially as they struggle with their repressed homosexuality. It must be difficult to drink so much just to forget what they do to each other.
The laughter exploded in the nightclub, and the faces of the three men flared with shame and rage. One of them, enraged, suddenly got up and ran onto the stage.
—Sorry, honey, you're not my type —Job said, shaking his head before lifting the hem off his skirt and kicking him. The man fell off the stage.
At that time, security personnel acted without further ado and dragged the men out of the club.

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