Hellstinger

3. Home sweet...

"Told you I would get us here in under five minutes," Marcus said to Alexander as they climbed the steps into the jet.

"You got us here in under six minutes, the helicopter would have done it in three." Alexander said, "And we both use the same lawyer, how far do you think you can drag a sexual assault case with me?"

Marcus stood at the entryway, watching Alexander disappear behind a curtain deeper into the jet, puzzled for five whole seconds without a clue as to what she was talking about.

"Er, whatever." He followed through the curtains which opened up to a cozy lounge area lavished with the best leather money can buy, cushioned by one of the best furniture makers in the United States, with a state-of-the-art diamond-laced mahogany center table. It is occupied by Big Joe and Bobby; Marcus' bouncers. Both of them are big men, weighing hundreds of pounds in fat and muscles. If Marcus is going somewhere rowdy? They are sure to be by his side. Though they are currently slurped over each other like babies and drooling like centurions, and definitely hungover.

"Eh, slurpy dogs." He said, taking a picture of the pair with his phone.

Marcus pressed on past the first lounge area and entered the spacious main sitting area; on the left are two two-settee upholstery adjustable chairs facing each other with a removable plywood desk in between them; and on the right are two one-settee chairs, of the same type and top-notch quality as the ones on the left, facing each other. And a few feet behind the setting is a bar with just about every wine in the continent - except red wine for some reason - facing a five-settee curved couch with a long bench in front.

The only person around is the bartender, a one-of-a-kind beauty that has sadly been labeled off-limits by Alexander.

"Yo Marc C." Marcus turned around to see Dray's afro dreadlocks all tangled again. "I can't find your conditioner anywhere. Where is it?"

"Just go scalp off the darn hair and leave my conditioner alone," Marcus said with an exaggerated frown as he took off his jacket alongside his sweater and dumped them on the one-settee upholstery chair.

"Come on man I need to look dope, just like you man. Come on." Dray said scratching his hair and holding up his trousers with his free hand.

"No, don't you get paid? Well, use your paycheck to get a conditioner." Marcus said, throwing himself on the five-settee curved couch. "And a belt. You want to be dope like me and yet you never use a belt. Have you ever seen me go without a belt?"

"Nah, man," Dray said pulling his trousers up and sitting on the long bench in front of Marcus. "Your conditioner is a beast, you know what I'm saying? It makes my hair feel like gold, man. I've gat to use your conditioner, come on man."

"You can drum like a beast, and you are cute enough to pull off any hairstyle. Just scalp off the hair for crying out loud." Marcus said with mock annoyance as the young drummer continued to pester him.

"Just give him the conditioner, Marcus, so we can all move on please." Alexander appeared from behind the drapes separating the main sitting area from the conference room. "Just give him what he wants."

She said, settling herself on the two-settee upholstery chair;

"No way I am giving him my conditioner. He needs to spend his own money." Marcus said.

"Speaking of money," Tasha, a petite down-to-earth Irish girl with a hint of social anxiety. She is Marcus' manager and the only friend he trusts would be by his side whenever he needs a friend.

"We got an offer for a two-day concert." She said, holding an iPad to her chest. "They are offering fifty million dollars on each performance throughout the two-day stay."

"Mmmm!" Another voice said and even before the drapes parted ways to reveal Shakes, Marcus already knew who would comment 'Mmmm' to an idea of more money, DJ Shakes.

"If we are going to make more money, then we should really be getting more money, hahahah, you feeling me?" Shakes said dropping down hard beside Marcus.

"Yes, yes Shakes." Tasha said, "I have negotiated a better prize and by the end of the detour, we will have an additional 700 million dollars banked."

"Nah," Marcus said. "I already have to risk riding in a helicopter just to keep on schedule with my world tour, I don't have time for a detour."

"He is right," Alexander said, Shakes rolled his eyes and groaned. "But I would very much like to reimburse the stupid party you threw last night. So Tasha, is it possible to fit in the two-day detour into our schedule?"

"Yes," Tasha said, taking a seat on the barstool directly facing Marcus. "It will only make us two hours late for two concerts and we will need to go to San Francisco immediately after. But if we stick to a very strict timetable, it will be a piece of cake."

Everyone including Tasha looked to Alexander knowing she was the only person Marcus ever listened to.

"Yeah sure, strict schedule. Why not?" She waved the query off. "Where is this detour taking us exactly?"

Marcus groaned in disapproval of the additional workload, but it was short-lived;

"Arizona." His eyes lit up on the mention of his birth State. He quickly sat up, "if we leave now, we will have a few hours to spare before the first concert in Phoenix."

"So we are going to Phoenix, in Arizona?" Marcus asked with a bright smile playing out on his lips. When Tasha nodded positively, he turned his attention to Alexander who suddenly looked deep in thought; she caught his eyes.

"No." She said simply and stood up to walk out of the sitting area.

"Bu..."

"No buts. You can't go broke from one party, and you are still on a world tour and more money is a guarantee. So no. We are not going to Phoenix."

The room grew silent after as Alexander disappeared behind the drapes. Marcus' mood dropped to an all-time low as another opportunity to see his home has been denied yet again. He briefly considered ignoring Alexander and just ordering the pilot to take them to Phoenix without Alexander's blessing.

'Eh!' He sighed inwardly, 'tried that once before, didn't go well. Let's just forget about it all together.'

Marcus was still reeling from the consequence of his previous rebellion; his parents had been thorough when hiring Alexander, it is as though they deliberately hired her as his prison wardern, declaring everywhere in the world is his prison, but the one place he wants to go is the only place he is not allowed. And Alexander has all the authority to decide where he gets to go.

'It's just not fair.' He thought to himself. 'It was a stupid decision.'

"Alright." Marcus sprang up, "We can go to Phoenix..."

"Yes!" Marcus was the first to celebrate Alexander's uncharacteristic changed mind. "I knew you loved me. Haha haha."

"...on one condition," Alexander said, her expression unchanged despite the joy Marcus and Shakes portrayed, even Dray poked his head out from the first lounge area to see what was going on.

"Thirty hours only. All work with zero chance of partying or womanizing."

Marcus' celebration paused for only a second; "Tasha!" He said, "You can tell whoever sent this godsend opportunity that we have a deal."

With that, Alexander sat back down at her initial spot while Marcus and Shakes started drinking anew in celebration of more money. In no time, the jet was primed, loaded, and ready for departure. And with their uninterrupted flying speed, they touched down in Phoenix Sky Harbor in less than thirty hours.

Marcus was the first to alight from the jet once they had been checked and cleared. And the moment his feet touched the floor of their reserved hanger, the hanger suddenly turned into a hellscape, the lightning gave way to a reddish glow of extraterrestrial indecent.

He looked around in shock at the sudden change in his environment, with shrieks of demonic intent coming from every angle.

Marcus quickly snatched his sunglasses away from his eyes and everything was back to normal.

"What is it?" Alexander's voice almost startled him as the rest of the tour crew started piling out of the jet.

"N...nothing," Marcus said, putting his glasses into his pocket. "I guess I'm just hungover."