Chapter 33: Night at the Malibu Club
Outside, cars streamed down the neon-lit streets of New York. Inside the bar, however, the world was different—warm light, laughter, and the hum of a jazz band playing on stage.
As Tommy and Kimberly stepped into the Malibu Club, the air was thick with the scent of perfume, liquor, and cigarette smoke. The soft, melodic notes of the saxophone blended with dazzling, colorful lights, weaving a mysterious, intoxicating atmosphere.
Kimberly moved with surprising confidence, clearly having been here before. She led Tommy through the crowd to the bar and ordered drinks.
Because she was driving, she asked for a non-alcoholic Shirley Temple—ginger ale with grenadine, topped with cherries. It looked elegant in its tall glass, sparkling under the lights, though its taste was nothing more than sweetened soda with a bite of ginger.
Tommy, on her suggestion, went with a Mojito. The fresh hit of mint and lime cut through the noise of the bar with every sip, keeping his mind sharp. He needed that clarity—tonight wasn't just about relaxing.
"I don't usually come here," Kimberly admitted, twirling the straw in her glass. "But sometimes, when the pressure gets too much, I sit here alone with the cheapest beer I can afford. Just to forget things for a while."
She didn't say it aloud, but Tommy could see it in her eyes: those nights weren't about enjoying herself—they were about surviving. The memory of unpaid rent, crushing tuition, and a broken-down car still clung to her.
Tonight was different. She wasn't alone in the corner anymore. She had a boss, a steady paycheck, and—if she played her cards right—a future.
"Kimberly? Is that you?"
The voice came from the crowd. A woman in a red dress approached with wide eyes and a teasing smile. Kimberly's lips curved into a genuine grin.
"Karen Page," she said warmly. "It's been years."
They hugged quickly before Karen's gaze slid curiously to Tommy. "And who's this gentleman? He doesn't look like your usual company."
Kimberly cleared her throat, catching the implication, and quickly explained. "This is Mr. Veseydi. He just arrived in New York from Italy. Thanks to my uncle's recommendation, I'm working as his assistant."
Karen Page's smile softened with understanding. The teasing vanished, and the two women began reminiscing about their high school days—class pranks, late-night study sessions, the dreams they once shared.
Tommy excused himself with a polite nod. "I'll step away for a bit."
As he moved through the crowd, women flocked to him—drawn to the tailored suit, the sharp jawline, the dangerous aura. Some wore dresses that barely qualified as clothing, laughing too loudly, leaning in too close.
Tommy brushed them all aside with a cold stare. He wasn't here for distractions.
His eyes scanned the room with a soldier's focus, picking apart details others ignored. The exits. The guards by the door. The flow of alcohol and the rhythm of the band. And then—his target.
Slouched across a leather sofa sat a heavyset Mexican with a gold tooth that glimmered every time he laughed. Thick chains hung from his neck, and two women draped themselves across him, their hands running over his belly and chest as he guzzled tequila.
The bar's owner.
The last name on the list Ken had slipped him that morning.
At the airport, a briefcase exchange had given Tommy everything he needed—new clothes, the target dossiers, the layout of this bar. His "market survey" earlier had been more than research; it was reconnaissance, a way to move freely while memorizing routes and faces.
Five million dollars for pulling a trigger. No trial. No jury. Just a job. To Tommy, it was no different than bending down to pick up a bag of cash lying on the ground.
He stepped into the restroom, playing the part of a man simply needing a break, but inside his mind gears turned. No mistakes. No noise. No witnesses who mattered.
Out in the lounge, Kimberly and Karen Page were still deep in conversation. Kimberly's eyes widened when Karen mentioned her job.
"Nelson and Murdock Law Office," Karen said proudly. "I'm working as Matt Murdock's secretary now."
Kimberly leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "So the stories about him being one of the best defense lawyers in Hell's Kitchen… they're true?"
Karen smiled knowingly. "Trust me, you'll find out soon enough. Working for someone like Murdock changes everything."
What neither woman realized was that fate was already intertwining their paths with Tommy's—because in the shadows of New York, alliances and enemies were only a step away.
END of the chapter
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