"Where did you see him?"
"At a bar near campus, The Tight End."
"Yeah?" I lean forward again, in spite of myself, forgetting all pretenses. "What was he doing?"
"He works there," Merc says. "He's the bartender."
Chapter Six
Jarett
"You know, you can leave earlier today," Suzie tells me as I wipe down the counter. "I'll close up, and anyway it's dead in here. Go on, study for your exams, or catch up on some sleep. I can't look at you stumbling about like a frigging zombie any longer."
"Don't worry," I say automatically. She's right, I haven't been sleeping. Bad dreams. Bad memories. "I've got this."
She frowns at me. "Jarett … "
Suzie thinks I'm a college student. I lied to her-about this, about everything. The bar is close to the campus, as is my apartment, so it made good sense to take this job when I saw it advertised. It's a twenty-minute walk from my apartment.
Well, the apartment I share with Sebastian-when he's not sleeping around or is passed out in some back alley with a needle in his arm and I have to go looking for him.
I glance back at her. "I'm fine."
"You're fine, my ass. Those professors overwork you. There should be a committee looking into this."
That makes me grin, cuz it's sort of cute, but I don't get it … Is she really upset, or playing a game? I mean, why should she give a damn? She barely knows me.
"What were you studying again?"
"Psychology," I say without missing a beat, repeating my standard lie. "And sports."
"Right, right. I knew that. Is this where you tell me to lie down on your sofa and tell you what troubles me?"
"You want to lie down on my sofa?" I wink at her.
She blushes furiously, a splash of red on her cheeks and nose. "Um, I dunno."
Turning back to wiping the counter, I chuckle quietly to myself. Never thought she had a crush on me.
Then again, I rarely thought I stood a chance with chicks. It's all in the mind, right? One of my foster dads used to say that. Of course, his point was that not only pain was in the mind, but also that nobody would believe me if I told them how he hit me when he was drunk.
Not that chicks don't look at me. They do. An awful lot, these past few years. And whenever I catch one of them staring at me, I always wonder if she's really looking at me, or someone inside her head.
Someone who looks like me, but isn't me. Someone fucking nice. Someone good.
Not that I don't fuck them if they let me. I'm not stupid. If they open their pretty legs for me, let me finger them, fill them up, dip my cock in their hot pussies, who am I to question them? It's pleasure, quick and sharp, and then gone again.
Not that I have fucked any, recently.
I never feel anything. Am I supposed to feel anything? It's like smoking-a taste of bitterness, a moment of bliss, then all that's left is the yellow stains on your fingers.
I've always thought that something inside me is broken-but if it is, it's too late for me to find out what it was, and wouldn't miss it if I knew. You can't miss something you've never had, right?
"Well, if you're finished here, go back to the storeroom to organize our supplies," Suzie says, clearing her throat, landing me with a crash back to the here and now. "If you're sure you're okay to stay longer."
"Sure."
She's stroking the side of her neck. That means she likes me, right? I wasn't wrong about that. I may not be a real psychology major, but I've observed chicks for years. Trying to understand them, see what makes them tick, what they like.
I may not feel, but I sure can give the impression I do, if needed. You learn to adapt, to pass as a human even if inside you feel like a trapped animal waiting to thrust out claws and fangs.
I studied Gigi a lot, back when we used to hang out. With her I learned to fake humanity, until it felt real, until I thought I was happy.
"Okay then," Suzie says. "Fine."
I could invite her to come with me to the back. Maybe that's what she wants, why she suggested it.
Why the hell not?
A co-worker, I think. Bad move. But this job won't last.
Nothing in my life ever does. I could drag her among the crates and boxes, lift her up on a stack and take her right there, for that brief moment of pleasure. Of relief.
Of forgetfulness.
It strikes me yet again how similar we are, Sebastian and me. I look for relief in sex, and he looks for it in drugs. I'm a junkie as much as he is.
The fucking drugs. Goddammit.
Maybe that's why I shake my head to myself, and head to the back of the bar.
Without inviting Suzie to come with me.
Or maybe it's the image of Gigi, the hurt in her eyes, her beautiful mouth tight, her curvy body tense as she turned and walked away from me. That look of disappointment.
In me.
Never thought it'd hit me so hard.
The image of Gigi as it has been playing in my fantasies, where I rip her clothes off and run my tongue all over her, where I fuck her and make her scream my name.
Either way, I'm an idiot. I should take what's on offer, and kill the fantasies.
Because fantasies only get you killed.
Hands grab me by the shoulders as I turn the key to open the building door and slam me into the wall beside it.
Again, goddammit?
The breath leaves my lungs, and I shove at my assailant, my grocery bags crashing down somewhere to the ground. "Christ, Seb. The fuck's your problem, man?"
"Just a fucking reminder," he snarls, "of who's in charge here."
"Lay off this shit. You can't ambush me whenever you're in a mood. You can't just-"
He catches me with a hook to the ribs. "Can't I?"
I grab his wrist, wrestle him back. "Fuck off."
He yanks his arm free and slams it against my windpipe, shutting off my air supply. "You think you're the boss. Two nights ago, and before that, too. That night at the club."
I try to pry his fingers off my neck. "I didn't-"
"Shut the fuck up. Two nights ago, when you were supposed to be the look-out while the deal went down. But you pushed me around, instead. Fucked me over. Hauled me out of the bar like I was some kid that you could boss around."
"Stop-"
"And at the club it was the same thing. Let this girl go, Seb. Go find another, Seb. Come on, let's go Seb. But know what? You don't call the shots, Fen-boy. You're just a bystander, an onlooker. A hired bodyguard. You haven't even gone through the full initiation yet."
I kick at him and manage to shake him off me. I draw shuddering breaths. "And yet I keep saving your skinny ass. So fuck you."
He grabs my shoulders and slams me into the wall again, the pain barely registering in the rush of adrenaline in my blood. I manage to land a punch to his jaw, but he kicks at me, and my knee says enough, buckles and lands me on my fucking ass.
He prepares to kick me, but I roll over on the dirty sidewalk, and I scrape my palms on the rough concrete as I make it back to my feet.
I launch myself back at him.
Red bathes everything-his face, his clothes, the concrete, my thoughts. Smell of urine, of danger. Sneering faces, teasing, prodding, daring me to hit them, to save myself. Chicken-shit, they cackle. Too chicken-shit to fight back.
A woman opens the building door cautiously, then closes it again as we elbow and push at each other, trying to land another punch.
Seb is taller than me, but lankier. I'm stronger than him, but it dawns on me as we grapple together that whatever he's shot himself up with tonight has lent him a desperate strength. He puts his hands around my throat, and I push on his chin, kick at his shins and twist until I pin him against a wall.
"You motherfucker," I spit out, panting, and with a last shove, get off him. "What the hell's the matter with you? This ain't funny."
The red mist lingers even as I blink my eyes. Funny how the phantom stench remains even after my sight has cleared.
He wipes at his mouth. His lip is split, a thin trail of blood running down his chin, jagging its way through thick stubble. And he starts to laugh.
He lifts his hand, and I see my wallet dangling from his fingers. "How about you pay for what you did?"
Jesus fuck. "Gimme back my wallet, Seb." I go after him, but he moves away, and he's faster than me, because my knee is killing me even with the shot of adrenaline in my veins. "Don't be such a fucking dick."
He fishes out the bills and pockets them. "Payback."
"What for?" I grab at my wallet, hissing when my knee almost folds. "You're fucking high, Seb. When you crash back down, you'll want someone to sweep up the fucking mess."
"Piss off. I'm perfectly fine on my own."
"That why you just stole my fucking money?"
He's not laughing anymore. He wipes at his mouth and gets up, obviously none the worse for our scuffle. "You had that coming, Fen. You don't get to order me around in front of the others."
"You're nuts." The flashback isn't over yet, the images, noises and smells from the group homes I passed through still coming and going, upsetting my sense of balance. The pain in my knee grounds me just as it pisses me off more. "Mav and Angel sent me to get you. I told you that."