Forrest

FORREST

"AHHH." A deep groan broke from the Night Stalker Club office as I passed by.

Fucktastic!

A loud thud followed, vibrating the door. This was fucking ridiculous. Call me old-fashioned, but they could do it at home before they came over.

I quickened my pace toward the entrance of the rooftop. Sex noise didn't surprise me, but considering my friends were the ones making those noises, it was awkward. I couldn't listen to that. I couldn't blame them if they wanted a quick fuck with their wives though. They had the best lives, but ignoring the stabbing pain settling in my chest was hard.

At the rooftop, the sun just sat down from the horizon. My eyes were steady as I watched the red, orange, and yellow colors before the twilight beckoning the sky. Those colors reminded me of fire, passion, danger, energy, happiness, and hope.

I leaned my elbows against the concrete parapet, flicked the ash from my cigarette, and breathed in the remaining inch I lit up while watching for the sun to set.

The lights started to scintillate around me to somehow light up the darkness surrounding the city. I stubbed the butt till it stopped smoking. Exhaust and city pollution came back to life.

I knew people said cigarette smoking was dangerous to your health, but this thing was a reminder that life wasn't fair. People thought I was a weird shit to choose a deadly companion than a woman-that I didn't have a beating organ in my body, that I was an ice king if that even existed. What they didn't know was, I was a good guy, that I didn't even like this another part of me, but it grew inside me already, and I had to embrace it for some reason.

The thing was, hard life taught me to be prepared.

The only question was, would I ever want to be that person anymore? The old version of myself-when I felt I was a better version of who I was today?

I walked down and met the nightclub manager, Kyland in the locker room. I quickly cleared my mind and pretended I didn't hear what happened earlier.

"Bro." He patted my back.

"Hey." I wore my black button-down shirt and rolled each sleeve above my elbows. My tattoo peeked out. It was an orange flame full of anger with black smoke swirled from my wrists up to my arms.

"How's your trip?"

"Great. Thanks for arranging my sched."

"Anytime."

"Got to go to work. Bills won't pay itself." I wore my black apron with the club logo and walked out.

The former notorious playboy, Pyke Hughes, the club owner didn't give a damn about the uniform. I was glad he preferred black.

The main bar had its dimly-lit dived with only yellow lights emblazoned from the low ceiling. Monday was not the busiest, but the customers entered in somewhat rush as soon as the club sign lit open.

The music visualizer from the 3D walls created colorful particles in balls shaped that synchronized to the beat of the 90's pop song played by the DJ from the booth towering the dance floor.

The lady in a black dress ordered a dry martini, taking a seat on the dark barstool. Her makeup was simple as if she just came from long hours of work. She tapped her colorless perfectly manicured nails against the bar counter leisurely. Based on her dress, she didn't come here to flirt and walk out with a man wrapping around her slender waist and have a wild night, but she was waiting for someone to arrive. Perhaps a friend.

I grabbed the cocktail shaker, filling it with ice, gin, and vermouth I took from the back bar. I stirred it for a few seconds. Placing down the martini glass on the counter, I strained the mix and garnished it with olives. "Here you go, ma'am."

She gave me a polite smile, muttering thank you.

After working for more than two years as a bartender, I'd learned quite a few, and not only on mixing drinks but also the different types of people; from rich kids, playboy, bad boy, flirt ladies, cheating husband, horny guys, brokenhearted, dirty business, and sex, but I also developed a good relationship with my friends despite cynical behavior.

I placed down the order for table-four.

"I got this." Dice, my barback took the tray with drinks to the couple at the dark red C shaped lounge chair with a half-moon-shaped silver table. With only a red light illuminated around the area, it was perfect for lovers and lonely hearts.

I did my job, and time passed by like a blur. Sometimes, I wanted it that way-it made me forget something I had in mind for the time being.

"Wanna stay for a while?" Kyland asked, opening a bottle of beer.

I shook my head.

Our boss didn't leave yet either. Pyke settled in front of the bar counter, grabbing the beer that Kyland had just opened. "Thanks, Wright!"

"That's mine, man." Kyland groaned.

I chuckled inwardly. They were literally brothers-in-law now. Pyke married Camila, Kyland's cousin.

"Wanna take it back? Go ahead." Pyke raised the beer to offer back and laughed while Kyland was glaring back at him. "Then go grab another one."

"Can't take for your own, dude?" Kyland scowled.

"What's gotten into you, Wright? Does your wife not good at giving you orgasms?" Pyke teased.

I had to blink back the thought of what had just happened earlier because if my memory served right, Pyke was quite clueless of them almost bringing down the door.

"Leave her alone, Hughes!"

They talked about sex quite often when they were both single and might have shared women before. I had no idea. They quitted the moment they were in their serious relationship. I guessed people did change because no one had seen it coming that Pyke and Kyland stopped their sexual escapades.

"How about you, Wood? When are you going to have sex? What I mean sex, the hardcore kind, kinky, and dirty. Have you lost your guymen yet?" Pyke smirked at me.

Kyland snorted. "Are you trying to liberate him?"

"Just trying to figure him out, Wright."

They might have a few thought I didn't like women or I was into dick, but who gave a shit?

I shrugged it off. "My sexual exploitation is just fine."

"Really? Do you have a girlfriend? I know you're not married, but I never saw you going out of the club with a woman either. Waiting for a perfect girl, huh?" Pyke faced me, piquing his interest.

I shook my head. "No girlfriend. No wife. But I can assure you I have a sex life."

Kyland and Pyke burst into laughter, high-fiving each other.

"Then why do you ask for days off every last week of the month?" Of course, Pyke would ask.

"I have to travel to see my family." I only had a long conversation with them when they invited me during a weekend or if it was not a work-related topic. I thought they respected my privacy and never asked personal questions, but I caught Pyke often intently staring at me as if he was studying what was behind my facade.

"Of course." He nodded subtly, seemed not to buy my reason.

After bidding goodbye, I walked out of the employee exit to where I parked my Onyx black 2001 Chevy Camaro Z28. I checked my phone for a call from someone as soon as I got inside. Zero.

I pressed the music icon on the screen of the GPS. Instantly, Simple Man played over the Bose speakers. I pulled out into the driveway, tapping my fingers on the wheel to the beat of the old rock music.

Not less than an hour, I arrived at my pad. My pad was secured by an advanced security system that I installed myself. It had a camera on the peephole that no one would even notice. I inserted the key and pressed my thumb above the door handle with a small black square for fingerprint scanning. In less than three seconds, the door clicked unlocked.

I locked the door after double-checking to make sure things were in the right places. I chose the colors according to my preferences-black, gray, and white. The dark gray curtain was drawn to block the light from the outside of the floor to ceiling glass window.

Exhaustion took over me. I'd been awake for more than twenty-hours now. I slumped body to my authentic crocodile skin couch and kicked my shoes off and massaged my temples.

My mind went back to my phone. No call. I hit the number on my speed dial and it was picked up right away considering the timezone there. "Any update?"

Bill Lioner, my tech geek presented our proposal to the Diabetic Research Center in New York two months ago about our proposed project, the Advanced Insulin Glucose Monitoring System or AIGMS. Unfortunately, they turned it down.

As much as I didn't want to disappoint him, I couldn't let his hope high. But if he believed in me and this project, I should at least believe in what we did. I knew Bill and his team worked their asses hard to get this deal. I just hoped it paid their effort.

"We're halfway through it. We could use a brain you know-"

"I am busy." I cut off Bill. His brain was more than enough for the project, and he knew it. "That's why everyone is paid handsomely."

"Right." I could feel his disappointment even from a hundred miles away. "I'll email you for the update after two months."

"Make it after two weeks. I'll arrange a video conference."

"T-That's impossible," he stammered.

"I am not in a patient mode right now, Lioner. Make it possible." My voice came out sharp. Bill even gasped from the other end of the line, and he was aware that we were almost running out of time.

"Absolutely, sir." I knew how much this project meant for him. If we could make a breakthrough, he would be the first to get the benefit since he'd been diagnosed with Type II Diabetes back in college.

"Good." Before I could hang up, something came up my mind. "Bill, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, sir.

"I actually have an idea. I don't know if it's possible."

"I'm listening. Nothing is impossible, Forrest."

I couldn't help but smile when he called my name. "Let's say you're right. Is it possible to put the monitor and the treatment together?"

"You're saying-"

"I know it sounds crazy-"

"Brilliant! Call me after a week."

My brow met in confusion. "Okay?" I hung up the call. Instantly, my lids felt heavy.

"Mama! Mama!" I shouted as I ran toward our burning house.

People from our small village were already in chaos with buckets of water to cease the fire. I bit the hairy arm who tried to stop me, then ran faster as soon as I freed myself. I slammed the door with my body and ignored them yelling my name because I knew my mama was trapped inside.

"Mama!" I coughed furiously. My eyes stung, tears streaming down my flushed face. I couldn't see anything other than the thick dark smoke coming from the kitchen.

"Mama!" I blindly walked and used my hands as my guide.

I opened my eyes slowly the moment I reached the kitchen doorjamb. It was difficult to watch the scorching of huge flame devouring Mama's cabinet filled with her Chinaware collections. It was like watching a starving animal eating its prey with an enormous appetite.

"Mama!" I shouted, running to where my mama was crawling out under our old wooden table, where we shared many meals. Her swollen eyes were pleading, filled with horror, sadness, and pain.

"G-go, m-my s-sweet boy. S-save yourself," Mama choked her words out, making me shake to cry.

There was blood everywhere-on her beautiful face, her favorite white blouse, and on her hands as she pushed me away from her.

"Mama! No, Mama!" I gripped her wrists, dragging her out under the table, but she was too heavy, and she was pulling her hands out of my grip.

I cried for help, but there were no words came out, instead, I continued coughing as the black smoke entered and burned my lungs, making me wheeze and breathe harder. I quickly crawled under the table, ignoring the unbearable heat against my skin that I felt I was melting under. I covered my mama with my body, closed my eyes, and took the fate that was written for me.

The flame reached the table quickly, to my shirt and licked my skin greedily. The pain was excruciating, and I was helpless to fight.

MEGAN

Suckstastic!

IT HAD been eight days since I lost my job. Eight days of wallowing in self-pity at the four corners of my apartment-alone. And every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was the image flickering of my evil boss as he tried to violate me. He was a shameless piece of shit and thought I would just welcome his loser dick because he had one.

Since I kneed him on his balls and punched his wrinkled ugly face, I hadn't seen or heard from him again. I was immensely grateful and scared at the same time that cops would just knock on my door informing me that someone sued me for assault.

I'd never been violent in my entire life, in fact, I was always a victim. Then I saw red when he tried to do that thing that I was scared of. My instinct kicked in, and I did what I thought was right to save a little morality I had left.

It was passed six when I got out of my bed. I tried hard to ignore my urge to call Camila and Bianca because I knew they were both busy with their husbands. And at this time, Blaine was busy playing with Ben and Sammy-who wouldn't? those kids were adorable. Lucky for them, they met men who respected, loved and treasured them like true gems. But luck was not on my side though, and I doubted if I could trust my heart to any man over again.

I checked my phone, of course, no calls, no messages-no one cared. Naught.

My life sucks!

***

The Night Stalker Club was crowded. The noises always made me feel alive, reminding me that I still had a reason to live despite my life had been turned upside down a couple of times, reeled and grief-stricken-I still managed to pull myself together. Yay to me!

I passed through the crowd and approached the bar. Thankfully, I found an empty barstool and rested my elbows on the dark counter, tapping my blood red-colored nails as if I wasn't drowning with self-pity earlier.

My heart was speeding up in a second of anticipation as I scanned around, but I couldn't find him. Was he off work today?

"Caipirinha, please?"

Dice, a bartender with Afro head nodded. The staff knew me through Camila and Pyke. I hummed to the pop song played by the DJ at his booth.

A few moments later, Dice placed down my drink and placed another order from the man beside me who wore a strong perfume. I turned my head slightly to check him out. He was wearing a sophisticated tailored suit with shiny personalized cuff links. He was rich, probably had his own office in Manhattan business district.

He raised his Jack on the rocks to acknowledge me and sipped it, then slightly turned to face me.

I smiled timidly and sipped my Brazilian drink, and let the grassy herbaceous taste of cachaça washed over my loneliness. Wash, huh? Ridiculous!

"Hi," he prompted, smiling confidently. You're rich but not attractive. I don't feel all tingly.

I must say though, this man was tall and physically fit, but I didn't come here tonight to flirt and get laid just to get rid of this sorrow churning inside me. I still couldn't forget what that dipshit did to me. I guessed I was born jinx after all.

"I'm waiting for someone." I crossed my legs to avoid touching his knees.

"He should be here by now. Shouldn't let a beautiful woman wait." He raised an eyebrow, testing. Oh, god! Stop flirting already.

I wanted to roll my eyes, instead, I smiled. "What made you think I am waiting for a... man?"

His eyes glinted wickedly. "As gorgeous as you." He strolled his gaze from my face to my chest, to my exposed thighs. "It would be a waste."

"You're maybe right, but I am really waiting for someone."

"At least let me entertain you while you're waiting for his grand entrance." Back off, already! Your cufflinks are too shiny for my taste. He extended his hand. "Asher." Oh, come on! Aren't you a little persistent?

I reluctantly raised my hand to shake his.

"Megan."

Startled, I choked on my heart and my pulse pounded in my ears. My head snapped to the strong and deep voice behind the bar.

Forrest had his dark eyes narrowed at me so intense that made me gulp, with dark thick brows squished together. His straight nose was flaring, his jaw was locked tight that made his jawline sharper.

"Il est tellement seduisant." I thought it was my voice.

His gaze made my knees tremble. This man always carried the pain, mystery, and broody character, but he was damn beautiful with his imperfection. His powerful presence caught me hyper-aware that had my body tense and my vagina shamelessly reacted. Oops! I shouldn't have thought of that. Too late, Megan.

"Forrest." I coughed his name.

He took a few moments to somewhat assess me before he talked again. "You okay?"

I nodded. Suddenly, it came to my senses that I'd been staring at him for a couple of seconds and not saying anything. It was always this way.

"Yeah." My word came unsure.

"Can I get you another drink?" He looked down at my almost empty glass.

My hand turned shaky as I pushed the glass toward him. "Yes, please."

A man on my left side cleared his throat. I completely forgot I was about to shake his hand. "So, you're Megan."

I glanced at him. "He's here."

"Wait a sec. You're dating that bartender?" Did I say anything about dating? He gestured his head to the magnificent back of Forrest who was wearing a black shirt, sleeves were rolled up his elbows, showing off his flames tattooed that I found it intriguing and sexy.

I preferred a clean guy, but it just looked damn good on him. Sometimes I wondered if he had a few more tattoos underneath the dark shirt he was wearing. Did his abs or deep V covered with tattoos as well or did he have a piercing on his flagpole? Bad bad girl, Meggie.

I leisurely watched his biceps bulged as he busied himself mixing. "Nope."

"Your brother then?"

I snapped my head and stared at the man for good seconds. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Forrest placed the drink in front of me

"Back off, dude. You're not her type." Forrest's voice was deep and harsh, but I could feel that was intentional.

"You're one to talk."

"What do you think?"

My mouth slacked open and parched because Forrest didn't even open his mouth if he didn't have to. He was a man of a few words. He used to brood than to spend his time talking to someone like this pompous dumbass beside me.

Forrest always intrigued us. I just didn't have the gut to even talk to him if I didn't have a choice. He intimidated me like a predator, but something deep inside me triggered every time we locked our gazes-it was like rolling of thunder with warmth and desire, but I had to keep it to myself because he was a friend in my circles. But boy, that's a damn shame because he looks so good.

"You're a bartender, dude. Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. I am just asking a beautiful lady over here-"

"Just like you asked another beautiful lady yesterday?"

"What is your problem?"

"My problem? Didn't she tell you she was waiting for someone?" Oh, he heard me?

My eyes ping-ponged between them while I was trying to process that they were arguing because of me, yet, I couldn't tell them to stop.

Clearly, Forrest pissed off Asher. The dude's face was flaming red and stoned hard. "I can make a complaint against your rudeness behavior and make sure you can't find another job even sweeping dog shits in the street."

"And I am so shaking," Forrest answered confidently.

"Asshole!" Asher barked harshly.

"You're not the first time to call me that." He grabbed the empty glass on my left and a few dollar bills.

"Forrest, what are you doing?" I asked him, finally finding my voice to speak.

"I don't know," he mumbled under his breath, then pinned his gaze at me.

"You could be in trouble."

"Who gives a damn? What are you doing here? Alone."

"I'm a customer." I shrugged.

Forrest shifted his gaze to my back, and I noticed Asher left his stool.

"This is for you, asshole." He threw the bills toward the counter then walked away.

Forrest picked them up from the floor, then Asher's empty glass.

I waited until he would talk to me again, but he kept himself busy with the other customers and never came back to me as if I didn't exist anymore, and it pissed me off. He passed by me when he had to take orders. The rest of the evening remained uneventful.

Feeling insignificant, I drained my drink empty. After a few deep breaths, I pulled myself together, took a few bills from my clutch, and placed it on the counter.

What happened to me? I wasn't this attention seeker. I could get attention from any man I wanted. I had a fair share, but I knew that they only wanted one thing from me, and that was what I hated myself for. Or perhaps, I wanted something more. Something else. Or more so, someone. I shook the images of my past life as they passed by in a slow blur and walked out of the club, hoping not to return.

I stayed inside my car for a while, resting my head against the headrest. I couldn't let my failures consumed me. I needed to find a job, moved on, and forgot those damages that happened in my past.

I couldn't depend on my friends every time I had a problem-we weren't like before anymore. They had priorities than to listen to my sad life stories that no one could fix it other than me.

People thought I had a perfect life because what they saw in me was the flirty and funny Megan, and not the damaged woman behind these walls I built years ago.

I started my car when my eyes started to blur. So much for an emotionally unavailable bitch! A knock had my head snapped to my window.

"Megan?"

Crap!

FORREST

Where the fuck is she?

SHE JUST left! I was just waiting for my break to chat with her, then I found her seat empty. There was no way she went with that jackass!

I had a few ideas about Megan's history of hook-ups, but I was the last person to judge her-she was a consenting adult. I just didn't want her to mix with that scumbag of all the people because he had a flashy card at his disposal.

"I'll be right back." I patted Dice on his shoulder and took off my apron.

My blood was already boiling, and I badly wanted to light a stick if I wasn't still working. I strode toward the exit, hoping to apologize for butting into their chin-wag earlier.

She couldn't have gone far. The smell of pees and cigarette assaulted my senses as I scanned the area where Megan could possibly park her car. I sprinted to the parking lot, thankfully, her car tail lights were still on.

A red haze gathered behind my eyelids as soon as I spotted her outside her car.

Shit!

"Megan!" I ran toward her, already quivering with rage. Pictures of her being harassed flashed in my brain when I noticed her on the ground, leaning against her car, seemingly shaking with her face buried in her hands.

As I got closer, I could hear her sobs that had me perplexed for a moment. This couldn't be from drinking. I'd been watching her drunk her ass for years, and she was only on her second shot.

"Megan, are you okay?" I knelt in front of her and held her arms.

"Get off of me!" She jerked away from my grasp, terrified.

"It's alright. It's me, Forrest. Are you okay?" I spelled out and held her tightly as I inspected her for possible injury.

"I don't need you! All of you, assholes!" She yelled between sobs.

"Just tell me if you're okay to drive home and I won't bother you again." Damn it! What am I even doing here? It was because she was a friend of my girls, and they would knee my balls if they found out I left their best friend alone. And she's Megan, dumbass!

"Just leave me alone."

I loosened her arms on my grip, and there was no way I would hurt her further. When she tried to stand up, I followed suit and took a step back. And that was when a chill of apprehension swept over me. Her nose was bleeding and had a hand imprinted on her left cheek.

I was already balling my hands into fists before I could ask her. "Who the fuck did that to you?"

"I'm fine. Just go. Why do you even suddenly care?" She wiped off the bloodstain with the back of her hand and gave me a cold stare.

She's a total mess. She wasn't like this. I wondered what happened to her for the past few days. The Megan I knew was funny and flirty who didn't filter and never cared how people would judge her. But this woman in front of me was a completely different person. She's lost.

"Is that a handprint of that motherfucker?" The urge to lifting my hand to wipe the blood from her nose had me shaking.

Her chest puffed out, ready to throw me a pit. She was still crying though. Tears were streaming down her smeared face.

"If you didn't stick your nose into and humiliate him in the first place, he wouldn't have come to do this to me!"

I had to look away and gulped down an inhale of air. "He's a jackass, Megan, but I shouldn't have done that. I apologize for my abominable behavior earlier."

"Just leave me alone. I'll live, and it's not the first time like this happen anyway."

"What do you mean? Do you know him?"

"You mean if I fucked him?" Her brow arched.

I winced at her bluntness. There was something inside me triggered, and I didn't even want to think about it right now. It just hardened and twisted my gut even though I knew her who never care to filter her words.

"I don't care about who you sleep with, Megan-"

"Then why are you here and why did you have to poke your nose in?"

"I don't know. Can I get you something for your nose?" Jesus! I was a complete idiot. "Ice maybe."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the door handle of her car. "I don't need your help. Not now. You should've talked to me a long time ago if you wanted to."

"What do you-?"

She faced me, fury filled her eyes. "It means I don't need you, okay? Just fuck off!"

A person I ever cared about came flashing back in my mind, making me shuddered. It felt like she was telling me that I was a terrible person. After all, she was right, and I felt guilty about it.

"Okay." I clenched my jaw as I tried controlling my mouth not to say any words anymore. It was my fault she was harassed, but I had the feeling that that jackass would just hurt her even more if they ended up in his bed.

Why did I even care? Of course, I knew the answer.

"Bro." Kyland tapped my shoulder after placing an order to the bearded guy.

"Yup?" I grabbed a glass and poured ice cubes for the order Whiskey on the rocks.

"See those girls?" He gestured his head to the dark corner booth.

I could barely see them, but one thing that caught my attention was the bare back of the woman in a red dress with a chin-length haircut. I forced a swallow as I strolled my gaze from her shoulder down to her spine. I felt the rush of blood surging through my veins in an instant. My skin vibrated with primal desires and insatiable hunger the longer I checked her out.

"W-Who's she?" I cleared my throat. My mouth dried. "I-I mean who are they?"

Kyland eyed me intently before he answered. "I don't have any idea they'd be here tonight. Damn it! Why here? Don't let those two manwhores get near my girls. I may need to look for a new job if Hughes and Williams touch a strand f hair of any of them. And I swear to god I will break their faces, friends or not."

***

Mama! No, Mama!

I jolted up, sweating, still catching my breath. Thankfully, it was just abrupt than the previous nights. I walked toward my kitchen with sweat dripping from my forehead. I grabbed a glass, filling water from the faucet and let the water run on my parched throat.

My head snapped, eyes squinted to the sunrise streaking through the window. I couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. What happened at the parking lot edged my mind fiercely.

"It means I don't need you, okay?"

"Of course, you don't. You're a big girl."

After two hours, I already showered, dressed, and already standing in front of the tattoo parlor, Fluer.

"Coming?"

My head snapped to the glass door, Milo already pulled it opened for me. His body was tattooed just like mine, but he was skinnier than me. If I haven't known Alan would beat his ass raw, I would've thought Milo was snorting coke.

"Yeah." I got in. "How's your sister?" His sister was newly diagnosed Diabetic. And I felt bad that as young as nineteen, she had to suffer from that disease.

"Still adjusting, but she'll be fine. It runs in the family anyway. My skinny ass is just waiting for its turn."

The reception area was painted in light gray, two shaded lamps were hanging loosely from the dark ceiling. Their masterpiece designs were framed and nailed proudly on the wall.

Milo approached again, showing me his new design on the iPad. "What do you think?"

I glanced down at the screen. It was a Hawk with fierce, blazing red eyes that screamed chaos. Its frightening black shiny wings spread widely that could soar across the sky. The striking claws were long, black, sharp, and curve pointed downward promising hideous scars and excruciating pain to its prey. Amazing!

"What do you think?" he asked again impatiently.

I shifted my gaze to his slim face, finding him showing me his signature grin and gleaming brown eyes. "That's good."

"Just good?" His brow arched. "Man, I did this since the shop opened this morning. You should have at least a better word to say than just good." His shoulders drooped, walking away to the long black counter. He placed the iPad on top, collapsed himself on the black glossy sofa, and sighed heavily.

I was terrible at anything related to art, but I could appreciate a good one. And good was not the right word for his aesthetic work. I gave him that.

"That was awesome, Milo. Shut that scowl off your face. That can bring bad luck for the business." I walked past him to the hallway. There were six small tattoo rooms. At the end of the hallway was Alan's office. "Is he there?"

"Yeah."

I heard the soft buzzing of the tattoo machine from one of the rooms. I could still feel the biting sting of the needle piercing my skin when I got my first tattoo, but nothing could compare to the agonizing pain on why I had to ink myself.

After knocking softly on the single panel glossy black door, Alan said to come in.

I entered and closed the door behind me.

"Don't you have work tonight?" A grayed-hair sixty-six old man looked up at me. For his age, he was still a diet conscious and managed to stay fit. Though he had already wrinkles, and his olive skin started to sag around his neck, he was stronger as a horse.

"I do." I slumped my back on the black chair and leaned my elbow on his wooden desk. Bartending was exhausting and tricky, but I liked this job.

"Keep your heads down. You don't wanna attract unwanted attention. Did you understand me?"

I rubbed my clean-shaven chin, waiting for him to talk.

He stared at me for a moment, squinting his sharp whiskey-colored eyes on me. "How was your trip?"

"A waste of time." I had to socialize with those bastards, then I still ended up going home empty-handed.

"I told you to stop opening the can of worms, Forrest. I don't want you to get into trouble."

"I am not." Too late for that.

"And I was born yesterday, yeah?" he said sarcastically, taking something out from the drawer. He pushed a medium-size Manila envelope close to my elbow and tapped it.

With brows cocked, I picked it up. "What's this?"

"His last whereabouts," he informed. "I won't let him get near you, Forrest."

"As much as I like the idea of you watching my back, I can't risk you. I got this, Alan. You know his mind is twisted, but I'm old enough to protect myself." It was a complete lie because if I could, I shouldn't have come here to escape.

I gulped down an inhale of air, realizing that that evil still affected me by just mentioning the word him. I took a deep breath and opened the envelope.

Christ!

"Where did you get these?" I quickly asked and shot him a penetrating gaze. This old man never lied to me, but I couldn't put him at peril by involving him in my mess. "I appreciate the effort, but you don't have to do this, Alan. I can manage to gather info on my own."

"I know, son. And if my Intel is correct, he'd be here in a few weeks." That I knew of and the reason why he would be here. "And you're welcome."

***

I inwardly rolled my eyes when the popular pop song started blaring on the speakers. DJ Kyan's 3c hair swayed as he shook his head, enjoying his mixed-up music. The crowd roared, jumped, and embraced the song simulated to the flashing lights.

I focused back on serving. A dude left thirty bucks on the counter for his order. Before I could grab the bills, a tiny hand with french-manicured fingernails already had them. The ring caught my attention. It had a ruby stone too huge for a slender finger... like hers.

What the-?

I pulled back as my heart started to pound in my chest. It was quite dim, but I didn't miss the wickedness glinting in her piercing caramel-colored eyes.

"Can I have that now?" I offered my hand, sounding like shit.

Her perfectly aligned white teeth flashed in a wide grin. She shoved the bills beneath her V-cut black dress. Terrific!

I lifted my gaze back and met a confident smile on her heart-shaped face. She leaned her elbows on the counter, showing more cleavage while tapping her fingers on her chin. Her perfectly groomed eyebrows arched. Clearly, she was having fun seeing my reaction as I gulped down the embarrassments of being caught staring down at her tits. Her gorgeous tits.

"What can I get for you, Megan?" I maintained a disinterested expression though it was useless.

I was used to the women flirting on this counter and I made sure to never mix my work with pleasure, but this woman was Megan, and she came back to infuriate me in a different way. More like to keep me on hard-on throughout the night. Brilliant idea!

"What can you suggest?" She was still staring at me like I was her last meal.

Megan had something in her mind, and there was in her aura shifted from the other night encounter, leaving me a big question mark in my brain.

There were probably a hundred men in this club, and I knew Megan. She had no interest in someone like me. So, what was she up to this time? Revenge?

"Are you-"

"Cosmo, broody. Double the lime wheel, please?"

"Aren't you supposed to be with your friends?"

"Nah. They're probably busy right now under their blankets. If they even use blankets. I mean why would they use, right?" She rolled her eyes, amused. "They'd be sweaty, panting, and slick-"

"Alright." Jesus! "I get it."