Chapter 1
Introduction.
Fourteen years earlier.
Hammer.(Devon Harris)
Devon’s life was by no means an easy one. Growing up in an alcoholic and drug-infused household being beaten by his drunk father and ignored by his spaced-out, negligent mother.
His escape finally came when he graduated from high school and married his high school sweetheart at eighteen. Pascal DuPont was Devon’s beginning and his end. His rescuer. His happily ever after. His life seemed perfect in every way, he must’ve been living with his head in the clouds. Because things weren’t all that great.
“Pascal, what’s wrong?” I ask as I walk into the very small living room. Pascal is standing with her back to me. Tears have already stained her cheeks.
“Nothing baby, really, everything is just peachy” she responds as she pushes past me and heads towards our bedroom, not even making eye contact or acknowledging my presence. When I enter the room shortly after her, she is covered from head to toe under the duvet.
I am getting really tired of this act, I think to myself running both my hands frustratingly through my hair. I huff out an exasperated breath, turn on my heel and walk to Phoenix’s room. My little angel always gives me a fresh perspective on life. Her sweet innocent face, always a promise that life will get better. Her small three-year-old frame is fast asleep in her pink princess room. God, she is so perfect in every way. And to think, we almost lost her.
There is a knock at the front door, pulling him from his beautiful daughter and his thoughts.
“Chris, what’s up brother, come on in?” He says moving over a smidge to let his best friend enter the house.
“You look, beat bro, what’s going on?” Chris asks plonking his ass down on the single sofa.
Devon heads to the kitchen to grab two beers out of the fridge and joins Chris in the lounge. Handing over a beer to Chris, he sits down.
“I don’t know dude, Pascal has been acting off this whole week, crying excessively and just walking off, without explaining what the hell is going on. Anyways, what’s up? What brings you to my home at 9 at night?” Devon asks.
“Well, you remember the bikers club we hung out at two weekends ago? Well, Thor, the Pres brought his bike in today, for some art decal on his bike, and asked if we, that’s you and me, well, he wants to know if we would prospect for his club?”
God, Devon had this awful feeling and he just couldn’t shake it. Something was going to happen, something bad and he couldn’t place his finger on it. Pascal has pulled so far away that trying to reach her seems next to impossible.
“Dude, are you listening?”
Just as a knock at the door rang out. Devon shook the wayward thoughts from his mind and opened the front door. His eyes were as big as saucers when he saw two police officers standing on his doorstep.
“Good evening Sir, are you Devon Harris?” The one police officer asked, looking really nervous, while the other police officer looked as if he were casing the joint.
“What’s this about?”
“Just answer the question Sir, Are you Devon Harris?” The big burley police officer asked, his hand already resting on the but of his gun.
“Yes, yes I am, what’s going on?”
The next thing Devon remembers is sitting in the police station, in the interrogation room, being accused of the heinous murder of a shop clerk after a botched robbery took place at a service station.
Now he has been booked and processed and is in one of the holding cells at the station. Devon lay on the bunk in the cell running shit through his mind. How could life have gotten so out of control? Things were supposed to be better once he finally saved enough money working at the bike shop to buy the nice cozy two-bedroom home, for Pascal and for Phoenix. And things were fine for a while.
When Phoenix was born things were touch and go at first. Phoenix’s heart stopped beating, due to some complication, she had died at birth, and she was revived. When that little mouth opened and a loud cry escaped her lungs, man oh man, a flutter of feelings he never had before, came crashing through him, hence her name. She is his phoenix rising from the ashes. Her rebirth was a gift he would always cherish. Things were touch and go for a while with Phoenix and her health. And then things were good. Everything ran smoothly,
but this past week..... Something went horribly wrong.
The sun rose and with it, a police officer arrived and unlocked the cell door
“Sorry for the inconvenience Sir, the real suspect was apprehended, the charges against you, have been dropped, and you’re free to go,” he said, leading the way back upstairs.
Chris was outside the station talking to that leather-clad guy from the club. They both stood watching as Devon walked down the stairs.
“Glad you’re okay, dude?” Chris said slapping Devon on the back.
“Yeah thanks, man, need a shower though,” Devon says looking over at the man standing in black jeans and a leather cutte.
“Devon” he held his hand out to the man.
“Thornton but you can call me Thor” they shook hands and left.
The house was in complete disarray when Devon, Chris, and Thor walked in through the front door. Panic rose in his gut. His wife and daughter were gone. All their belongings were cleared out, all traces of them, gone. On the coffee table was a stack of papers and right at the top of the papers were signed divorce papers, and a photo of Phoenix.
“Neighbours said that shortly after the police rocked up and we left, a black van pulled up with a silver Merc and loaded up your wife and kid and left in a hurry. Looks like this was all a setup bro, I am so sorry”
Chris said looking down at the broken defeated man sitting down on the chair, numb, staring at the paper in his hand.
The level of pain, hurt, and betrayal, I feel right now was immense. It feels like my heart and gut are being ripped in two. How could she have done this to me, to us? I place the picture of my Phoenix into my wallet.
“Let’s hit the road,” I say to Chris and Thor walking towards the door. I locked up my home, hoping to never return, leaving this life behind me.
I exit my house as Hammer. Cold and distant. No one will ever take advantage of me again.
Five years prior to the present day.
Pixie.(Kristen Marksh)
“Today was the worst day ever!” I shout to my roomie Saya as I throw my keys on the side table by the front door.
“Why, what happened?” Saya shouts back in her deep Russian accent. I am now standing by her bedroom door, watching her put her final touches of makeup on.
Saya Potchenski was a transfer student with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, with tanned skin that the men falling to their knees. How she ended up being friends with me was and always will remain a mystery.
“I got called into the Dean’s office. I lost my scholarship. Apparently, my grades have dropped and they found someone more deserving” I say as tears form in my eyes.
“I can’t afford to pay my tuition, I am out Saya” Saya turns her stool around and gives me her undivided attention.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know, hold out for as long as I can, get a second job ...... My folks are going to freak out!” I exclaimed, feeling very despondent.
“Why not come work at the studio? You pretty. You can make lots of money Kristen?”
“No way, that’s rich, I look nothing like you do, I mean look at me”
“I am, you look very pretty. Natural yes. You look young and innocent. You come ya. You don’t see how the men look at you. Your nose is always in your books” I laugh at her last statement because even though I am failing my courses, my nose is always in my books. I am always trying to do better.
So I decided to go along with this crazy plan and after an hour of primping, dressing, and makeup and I head off to Everhardt Studios.
After a long intensive interview (if you could call it that) of being asked extremely personal questions, that would make any normal woman blush, then going through a medical exam and having blood drawn, Being poked and prodded, I felt like a damn science experiment. I was then led into a beautiful office space where I would see Mr. Everhardt himself.
Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Everhardt and I are standing on the set of one of his latest movies.
“Do you know what makes us more outstanding, than any other porn studio, my girl?” Mr. Everhardt asked, standing stoic with his hands firmly placed on his back.
“No drugs, my girl. My girls are all drug-free. Everything you see up there is 100% real. There is nothing fake to the performances you see there. That is what makes Everhardt a step above the rest” He says proudly. I am in awe and shocked, to say the least.
“Dad” is heard making us both turn around. A man dressed in leather and jeans is walking toward us. He is absolutely gorgeous with his short shaved hair, olive skin, and eyes covered with dark Oakley’s.
“Excuse me please, Pixie.” He says walking away from me.
“My son. Thornton” he says slapping his son on the back before both bodies disappeared into his office.
My whole life flashed before my eyes, not sure if I could do half the things I saw on set. My eyes bulged at some of the positions and things I saw. Needless to say, I am most definitely turned on. This would be an experience she had to partake in.
I have done a couple of movies on set and earned some good money which was enough to get me to the end of the semester and a good lump sum to see me through. When I went home I was not welcome. My parents are already heard about my job choices via friends of theirs. For devout Christians, it is unacceptable that their daughter had sold her soul to the devil for money.
I dropped out of college completely, packed up all my shit, said goodbye to Saya, and moved to a small town called Melrose Hills. I rented myself a small apartment above a bar called Legends. I would go in there tomorrow to see if they had any vacancies and to get the lay of the land. Today though would be spent buying furniture, groceries, and unpacking my things to get settled.
The next day I finished up what I never got done last night, and texted Saya to let her know I was safe and now settled in. I ordered a pizza and had a glass of red wine around six pm, had a relaxing bubble bath then got dressed in a black netted top, with a red bra underneath, black knee-length boots, and headed downstairs for a night of relaxation, drinks, and who knows, maybe some fun.
While I was enjoying my second round of double Jack’s and coke, five men, all dressed in leathers walked into the bar. I almost choked on my drink when they surrounded me sitting at the bar. One man leaned over, totally cornering me in.
“And what’s a sweet thing like you doing here all alone in a bar like this?” he said whispering in her ear. I inhaled deeply, taking in the manly woodsy smell of this man leaning over me. His name is Bellamy. I went home with them and we’ll, I have never looked back.
