Chapter 1

Jocelyn Turner steeled her shoulders as she entered the ratty massage parlor with ten of her thugs in tow. Anyone who saw her would marvel at the change she'd undergone in the last fifteen years.

Gone was the naive innocent girl with chubby cheeks and freckles on her nose. Jo had grown into a five feet, six inched slender young woman, with chin-length raven black hair and with tattoos on her arms.

Jo was dressed in a sports bra, black leather jacket, ripped jeans and combat boots. A black and white bandana drooped out of her jeans pocket.

The interior of the massage parlor was as ratty as the outside. From the neon lighting and the plastic chairs in the waiting room, one could discern that it was a shady enterprise.

The receptionist, a bleach blonde with a highly voluptuous figure which she managed to squeeze into a miscropic nurse's outfit, let out an involuntary squeal of fear when she saw Jo and her men.

“How may I help you?” The receptionist asked, trying not to sound as scared as she looked, “Would you like a massage? Here's a catalog showing our masseuse and the rates we charge, to help you choose an affordable massage session.” She held out a book with quaking hands.

“Umm, no. We'll pass. I want to see your boss. Tell him that the Street Hawks are here to see him.” Jo said.

The woman nodded frantically and made a phone call, nodding at whatever the person on the other end had to say.

When she disconnected the call, she smiled at Jo, “He'll be down here as soon as possible. He asked me to offer y'all massages, on the house. Pick the masseuse of your choice from the catalog. Happy endings are guaranteed.”

Jo in return, scowled at her.

“Or I'm sure we can find you a masseur or two, depending on your tastes.” The woman added fearfully, not wanting to annoy Jo. Jo was the only female leader of an all male gang in Ganghaven, and for that, she was feared by many. Her gang had the least members, but they were very effective in striking fear into the heart of people. All of Jo's men were burly, bald by choice, and they all had a hawk tattoo on their left biceps.

The Street Hawks were known for destroying any business or store that refused to pay them protection money.

The receptionist was saved from having to deal with Jo when the owner of the massage parlor sauntered in with a huge smile on his face.

“Jo, you look good as always.” He said.

“Too bad I can't say the same 'bout you, Lenny.” She replied.

Lenny Starr, or Massage Lenny as he liked to be called was a short wiry man with beady little eyes and a soul patch. He always wore designer suits no matter the weather.

“What do you want, Jo?” He asked, looking up at her.

“I want my money and don't you dare say shit about how you already paid some other gang, or how you don't have any money, because it won't fly with me.” Jo warned, and her men made sounds of approval.

“Of course, I wouldn't.” Lenny said graciously.

“How much do you want?”

“A thousand.” Jo replied.

“A thousand?!” Lenny asked as his eyes bulged at the sum. “The others are charging half of that.”

“Well, we ain't the others now, are we?” Jo asked, cracking her knuckles.

Again, her men made murmurs of assent.

Lenny swallowed and laughed, “No, you are different from the rest. I'll pop up to my office and see if I can get the money.”

“That's good. Rex here will go with you, to make sure you don't develop any funny ideas.” Jo said.

Rex stepped out from behind and made a motion for Lenny to lead the way. Lenny looked at the hulk who looked big enough to stomp on him, and hurriedly went up to get the money.

Some minutes later, both men returned. Rex held a fat wad of notes in his hands which he gave to Jo. Jo transferred it to one of the men behind her, “Count this, make sure it's complete.”

“He already counted it up there.” Lenny protested, eager to get rid of Jo and her scary crew.

Jo gave him a glare which made him shut up.

The man finished counting the notes and nodded, “They're complete, boss.”

“Good. Lenny, very good.” Jo ssid, patting Lenny's shoulder.

“So you'll be on your way?” He asked hopefully.

Jo laughed sardonically, “No.” She turned to Rex, “Where did he get the money from?”

“A safe.” Rex replied.

“Any more cash in there?” 

“Yeah. There were like five of that kind of wad.”

“Good. Take him back upstairs and retrieve the rest.” Jo ordered.

“B-b-but why? I gave you what you asked for.” Lenny stuttered, confused and afraid.

“Oh, poor Lenny. Word on the street is that most of the girls you've hired to 'give out massages' aren't here of their own accord.” Jo said smoothly, trying to hide her anger. Just the other day, she'd found out that Lenny was forcing young girls into prostitution without paying them. 

“And we heard you've got minors here, too.” Jo continued.

“Those girls, their families owe me money. They're just working off their debts.” Lenny said defensively.

“They'll have to do that another way.” Jo said.

At the same time, Rex pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Lenny, “Move, Tiny.”

Lenny began to shed tears as he went back upstairs.

When they were gone, Jo looked at the receptionist who had observed everything and growled, “Leave!”

The woman ran away as fast as she could, splitting the seam of her outfit in the process.

Then, Jo and her team brought out baseball bats and spray cans with which the vandalized the reception.

When they were through, they entered the massage rooms, disrupting the 'massages'. Men and women in all stages of undress ran out.

When Rex and Lenny returned with a bulky bag envelope, Jo and her crew were on hand to welcome them.

Lenny looked at what had become of his beloved establishment and let out a sob, crumpling to the floor.

Jo walked up to his sitting form, “Lenny, if I ever hear that you're using forced labour to run this place again, you'll wish you were dead.”

With that threat, she and her crew left. When they were outside, Jo gave the bag envelope to Rex, “Find out all the girls who were forced to work there and give the money to them.” She ordered.