One
The heart of the city was a concrete jungle of towering skyscrapers, their reflective glass windows shimmering in the sunlight by day and casting an otherworldly glow by night. The streets below were teeming with life, a constant ebb and flow of people from all walks of life. Yellow taxis zigzagged through the labyrinthine streets, their horns blaring impatiently as they navigated the perpetual traffic jams.
Street vendors and food trucks dotted the sidewalks, filling the air with the enticing aromas of diverse cuisines – from sizzling street tacos to fragrant stir-fries. Neon signs adorned the facades of shops and restaurants, creating a kaleidoscope of colors that painted the cityscape.
Amidst the concrete and glass, green oases of parks supplied a temporary escape from the urban chaos. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, and benches offered respite to tired city dwellers seeking a moment of tranquility. Pigeons cooed and children laughed in playgrounds, adding a touch of nature's serenity to the urban symphony.
That was New York, the only place Elena called home all her life.
Elena stared out of the grimy apartment window; her gaze fixed on the bustling city below. Tall skyscrapers reached for the heavens, casting long shadows on the crowded streets. The cacophony of horns, sirens, and distant voices formed a symphony of urban chaos that never seemed to stop. It was a city that devoured dreams as easily as it gave birth to them, and Elena had arrived with nothing but her art and a determination to make her mark.
At twenty-two, Elena had a talent that had been her solace since childhood. The walls of her apartment were adorned with her paintings, each a piece of her heart and soul. Yet, her talent had yet to be discovered by the art world, and she was caught in the relentless grip of financial struggle. Bills piled up like a daunting mountain, casting a dark cloud over her dreams of becoming a successful artist.
Elena had no family to turn to for support. She was an orphan, her parents taken from her in a car accident when she was just a child. She had grown up in the city's unforgiving orphanage system, her only escape the hours she spent sketching and painting in the dimly lit corners of those sterile, lonely spaces. Art had become her refuge, her therapy, her voice when words failed her.
She sold her artworks at low costs to pay for her university where she did a two-year degree in creative arts.
It was difficult for her, going to school, feeding herself and paying bills. Life was never good for her.
Elena lit a blunt.
"I thought you were going to quit. You never keep your word, Elena," Her best friend Zoey entered the room and took the blunt from her hand crushing it on the floor.
Elena flared up.
"Zoey! You should know more than anyone that weed is the only thing that keeps me sane these days. I have been smelling things that I am not supposed to and hearing things. I am absolutely running mad at this point," Elena sighed.
Zoey hugged her tightly.
"Things will be better soon. You are just stressed out. You do not have to turn back to drugs. You know how hard we tried to get you off those. You even had to go to rehab because you were in an unbelievably bad place. You cannot go back," Zoey spoke calmly.
Elena broke down in tears.
"Zoey, nothing is working out again. I am crashing. My artworks are not selling anymore, and I have applied to various museums, and they have refused to exhibit my work. I am tired. My rent is due in two weeks, and I feel bad for making you support me every single time," Elena cried more.
Zoey laid back on the bed and watched Elena. She was the only person that Elena could call family. Elena had no relatives and had to fend for herself from an early age and it broke her to always see her struggle.
Elena sat down and wiped her face.
“I am running late. I told you I got a job at club den, right? I am resuming today,” She spoke and tidied her work area,
Zoey got up.
“You got a job at club Den? Do you know how dangerous that place is? The type of people who go there?” She yelled.
Elena chuckled.
“My life will end when I am homeless and have nothing to eat. Working there is the only way I can live right now. Besides, it is not that bad, I will get good pay and tips too, how bad could it be,” She replied.
Club Den was owned by none other than the Avante's, the most influential mafia family in New York City. From their hidden throne room, the Avante's pulled strings that reached every corner of the criminal underworld. It was an open secret that the club served as a hub for their operations, a place where deals were struck, and alliances formed in the shadows.
In one corner, a group of A-listers whispered about a shipment that had mysteriously vanished, stolen by a rival family. In another, a high-stakes poker game unfolded, with fortunes changing hands with every card dealt. The air was thick with tension, power, and the undeniable aura of danger that permeated every inch of Club Den.
Outside, the city continued to bustle, oblivious to the secrets and intrigue that unfolded within these walls. Club Den was a world of its own, a place where the most dangerous individuals in New York City came to see and be seen, all under the watchful eye of the Avante's. It was a haven for those who thrived on the edge of society, where power, money, and danger were intertwined in a dance that never seemed to end.
Zoey Copperman, Elena’s best friend, knew how dangerous that place was because she dated an artist. Club Den was where the A listers went to look for more connections, to thrive in their different areas.
“I am not sure you will be able to work there. That place is full of dangerous people, if you go there, you will not be able to leave of your own will. Do you know who the Avante’s are?” Zoey asked her.