I squeeze her hand with mine as the taxi slows down and stops in front of our house. Ruby pays the driver and I help her get out of the car.
We enter the house and go straight to the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. My eyes fix on Jack sitting at the kitchen table, the light of two street lamps filtering inside. Ruby lays her trembling hand on my shoulder. I suck in a breath and Jack slams his fist on the table. My insides jump as Ruby steps forward. I switch on the light and look into Jack’s eyes. Fury pervades his amber glance. Coldness runs through my veins.
“Eavan,” Jack says in a menacing voice, raising himself in one motion and moving closer to us.
His massive form towers over mine as his face darkens, making him look older than he is. He’s forty-three, but has the body of a fit thirty-year-old.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” I say. “This was my idea.” My heart thumps in my ears.
“Where have you been?” Jack snaps, rubbing his palm against his white shirt.
“It was a very private party,” Ruby shrieks and trembles. “The band ‘Red Asylum’ invited us over.”
“You did the fuck what?” he rumbles. “It’s fucking unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“You’re sorry?” There is a high-pitched crack in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, my voice thin like liquid, trembling.
“There are rules.” Jack raises his finger in a threatening gesture. “No fucking parties. No social life. No wandering after dusk.”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Ruby says.
His face softens as he lays his hand on her shoulder and strokes her arm. “Did you have fun, kiddo?”
“I did,” she says with hesitation. “I really did, Jack. Sorry. Really sorry.”
“Don’t do this again,” Jack says. He clenches his hands on the back of his neck, the front of his shirt open, revealing his hairy heart area. “Good news or bad news?”
“Bad,” I say.
“Pack your belongings,” he says. “And hurry.” He threads his fingers through his short black hair as his bushy eyebrows form a line. A furrow appears above his nose. “We’re moving house.”
A shooting pain courses through my chest and I feel like I’m dying. My whole being turns into ashes.
Seafra
It’s 10:45 am, and I’m still waiting in front of the Randell’s. My stomach growls again, the unpleasant sucking growing in strength. Fury rushes through my veins as my hands itch to knock somebody’s teeth out.
She hasn’t come.
I correct the baseball cap covering my head and the sunglasses making me look anonymous to the crowds around me, my fingers zipping up my hoody. Fuck her.
I can’t call her because she didn’t give me her fucking telephone number. All the other women I’ve met threw their phone numbers at me, but she didn’t. She didn’t even bother to call me to tell me that she’d not come to have this fucking breakfast with me.
I won’t be able to find her because I don’t know where she lives. I don’t know her full name. Actually, I know nothing about her.
No—
I know one thing, for certain.
She doesn’t want me.
Fuck her. I don’t want her either.
She’s only a good-looking chick. I will meet another. And then another. I will forget about her. Pussy is pussy. Tit is tit. They’re all the same. Fuck her.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans, and I answer the call.
“We’re leaving,” Coyote says. “Where are you, man?”
“I will be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Good. Tania is furious. We’re having a concert at nine this evening.”
I pull forward and disconnect then order a taxi. Twenty minutes later, I settle myself into the seat of our bus, behind Coyote.
“I’m warning you for the last time,” Tania growls at me. “Behave.” She drops into her seat. “It’s fucking unbelievable. Like with a bunch of kids.” She curses under her breath.
I wave a hand as though she’s an annoying fly which makes her hiss.
My routine starts.
We arrive at the venue then we have a meal and a cup of strong coffee. The people around me are moving like ants, preparing the stage and instruments, clinks, screeches and curse words forming a layer around me.
Tony is sipping his coffee. I move closer to him.
“Alright?” I say.
He nods, a wide grin crossing his face. “You look like it’s the last place on Earth you want to be in.”
It’s a nice pub in the suburbs of the city, and there will be a small audience which I’m really happy with. I open my mouth to protest, but Tony slaps me on the back, knocking the air out of my lungs, and hands me a cup of coffee.
“She got under your skin, huh?” he says.
“She didn’t. I don’t—“
“You do. My son has the same misery on his face because of a chick. Youth.” He nods several times. “Don’t envy you, boy. I prefer my wife. I really do. Go, the concert starts soon.” He shoves me towards a small room at the back of the pub.
I huff and compose myself.
Our make-up artist, Lily, takes care of my face, Martha, our fashion stylist, takes care of my clothes; Lisa, our cook, will take care of my dick after the concert.
I’m going to eradicate every tiny memory of Eavan from my head.
The tubes with cosmetics click and the hangers screech against the rail, the clothes rustle, the people around me kill me with their chattering.
I give my worst performance ever. The audience whistles their disappointment and Tania wants to kill me.
“Find another vocalist,” I say to her, walking off the stage.
Sweat trickles down my temples. Adrenaline circles in my veins. I want to get drunk. I want to fuck. I want to twist Eavan’s neck.
No—
I want to fuck her so hard that she’ll whimper. I want to fuck her every hole, wreck her, destroy her then fuck her again. I want to see her again. I want to kiss her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tania growls. “Compose yourself. She’s not worth it. Don’t ruin your whole career because of one cunt.”
I raise my finger at her. “Don’t. Ever.”
Tania cringes into herself at the tone of my voice as Coyote and Hale shoot me dark glances.
I take off my shirt and toss it onto the floor then enter a room with two tables covered with food and drinks. I grab a sandwich and pour myself a glass of orange juice topping it up with vodka.
The sandwich finds its final rest in my stomach as a soft body presses against my back.
“Want to have some fun?” Lisa murmurs. “You’re very stressed.”
“Sure. Why not?”
I turn to her and she puts her hand on the front of my trousers then unbuttons them, exposing my cock. It’s lifeless and Lisa’s full lips form a line of disappointment.
“We can fix it,” she says as she lowers to her knees, sweeping her auburn hair away from her face.
Surprisingly, the gesture and the hair colour cause Ruby’s face to flash through my head like an eerie reminder of something I can’t name. I kill that image with fury. Then Eavan’s eyes haunt me, but I can’t kill that image.
Lisa’s fingers close around my limp cock and her mouth touches my balls. I feel her wet tongue flicking over my crack. She licks my balls then the base of my dick, stroking it with her hand. Heat rushes to my toes and my cock grows hard.
Lisa licks my shaft up and down then swirls her tongue around the head. I gather her hair on the back of her neck and hold her head in place. She opens her mouth eagerly so I drive my cock into her hot wetness, slamming on her throat. She knows how to handle me so I fuck her mouth selfishly. We catch a rhythm and she moans softly as I thrust into her mouth deeper and deeper. The tension inside me builds rapidly, seeking relief. I want to forget that sweet mouth I kissed yesterday. I want to forget Eavan.
A white explosion carr
ies me to my ecstasy as I moan her name. Eavan.
“What the fuck?” Lisa growls as my dick slips out of her mouth and I wrench in my whole pleasure with my own hand. “You think—“
“Get out,” I rasp.
“I’m not—“
“You are. Now, get out, you fucking bitch.”
She shakes her head, palms facing the ceiling, and rises to her feet. Anger and helplessness paint her round face.
Yeah, I can be an asshole. Eavan must have sensed it. That’s why she doesn’t want to have anything in common with me.
Maybe it’s better this way.
“Get out,” I bark.
Lisa sweeps her hand, aiming for my cheek, but I dodge it. The tears of her frustration flood her face. She storms out of the room as my glance meets Coyote’s. He offers me a bottle of beer.
“It seems like you can’t get that weird chick out of your head,” Coyote says.
“Fuck off.”
“Okay, a touchy topic.” He tilts his head to the right then to the left, rotating his arms. “Lisa doesn’t mind. She’ll sob for a moment then will be at your service again.”
“Fuck off.” I sit on the floor, leaning against the wall, my folded legs splayed.
“Okay, no talking about Lisa.”
“No talking at all.”
“I’m tired with all that easy trash we fuck,” Coyote says like he hasn’t heard me.
He sits beside me and tips his bottle up to his lips then takes a sip of beer. A scar running across his cheek wavers, a souvenir after the fight outside one of the pubs in the town where we lived when we were younger, very poor and anonymous.
I was fucking a bouncer’s girlfriend in the bathroom and he caught us. Coyote jumped onto his back while the guy was kicking the stomach out of my abdomen. Old times.
“Really?” Sarcasm coats my voice.
“I want something real,” Coyote says. “Something delicate. Something—“
Hale tumbles into the room, a bottle of vodka swinging in his hand. Two chicks looking about twenty-five are clinging to his back and the ginger is keeping a hand in his pants.
Coyote and I clink our bottles.
“Something unique?” I say.
Coyote nods. “Yeah.” He puts the bottle on the floor and stretches his legs out. “More long-term, you know.”
“Really?”
“Maybe it’s not that difficult.”
“Some people do that in life.”
“Maybe we could do that too.”
I inhale deeply. “Look at us. It’s very difficult for us.”
“But not impossible.”
Hale bends one of the girls over the table, gathers her jeans skirt up and drives his dick into her from behind as food and drinks fall down onto the floor, splashing, banging, and clinking. Hale kisses the blonde, squeezing her breast and pounds into the ginger.
Coyote and I exchange glances and go to the back of the pub, settling ourselves between two wheelie bins. They exude the smell of rot, but we don’t mind. It’s quiet and private so we can get drunk together. Stars twinkle at us and the hum of car engines comes from the city, blending with the human voices from inside of the pub. A chill creeps under my t-shirt. A rat runs across the parking lot stretching in front of us. Then another, bigger. It stops, cocks its head up as its eyes gleam. Coyote growls at the animal, startling it.
“She smelt of jasmine,” Coyote says in a drunken voice. “Like a fucking miracle.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
“Eavan smells of green tea and roses. And of mystery.”
“Drink,” Coyote rushes me.
We don’t talk as we down two more beers. Then Coyote starts burbling about some chick, but I can’t grasp him, at all. Another bottle of beer makes the world a funny and hazy experience for me. My eyelids grow heavy and a wall of blackness cuts me off from reality.
The next morning, I wake up in the bus beside Coyote. His face looks greyish, eyes swollen, suffering and thirst pervading his glance.
“Drink,” he says in a hoarse voice, offering me o bottle of spring water.
“Thanks,” I rasp as my hangover hits me in a pulsating pain around my temple, nausea and the sensation of a desert in my chest.
Since that moment, my life turns into a grey agony. Nameless mouths I’m fucking, faceless pussies I’m fucking, grotesque figures of my fans-everything is blurry, distorted by my anger, by the fumes of alcohol and weed.
Yet I can’t forget Eavan even though I’m trying. Trying every night, embraced by a woman, by two women, sometimes even three women, but none of them is able to give me relief from the agony stabbing my heart each time Eavan’s face flashes through my head.
She’s a ghost, a memory, a mirage, and will never appear in my life again, but I can’t forget her. I should, but I fucking can’t.
The agony torments me until Tania invites to a nice restaurant for lunch. I’m late. Normally I’m good at time keeping, but since everything is fucked up in my life because of Eavan, this positive character trait of mine I’ve always been proud of, has deteriorated as well. The waitress leads me to the table. Tania is sipping her drink but she is not alone. Tony is with her. I didn’t expect him to be here. That means it will be serious as hell.
I drop into a chair and put my elbows on the table.
“It will be very serious, huh?” I say.
I order orange juice and chicken fajitas and the waitress flashes me a seductive smile that wakes an urge of murder inside me.
“I’m going to be very straightforward,” Tania says. “You need a break.”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
“You aren’t,” Tony says. “We’re worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth.
Are they my parents or what? I’m a grown up man. I can take care of myself.
My eyes slide over Tony’s face and guilt jabs the side of my chest. The guy is really worried. Not pissed off as always. Worried.
“Take a break,” Tania says in a cold voice. “A few days. Or even a week.” She takes a deep breath then clears her throat. “Hale is an absolute nightmare, but he’s still useful. You have just stopped being useful.”
“What?” I explode.
“The last two concerts were a disaster,” Tania continues. “Your lifestyle is affecting your voice. Did you think about it? You were drunk on stage.”
“Your lifestyle is dangerous for your health,” Tony says. “Boy, you have a life to live, a future. You want to have a wife one day, kids, don’t you?”
Tania leans against her elbows. “What’s going on, Seafra?”
“Nothing,” I say.
Tony shakes his head. “Is it because of that girl?”
“No,” I say.
I feel horrible, lying to Tony, but I don’t want to confess anything to Tania. It’s none of her business.
“I will put my life back together,” I say. “From today.”
I fucking don’t care about Tania’s opinion, but Tony’s opinion matters to me. I don’t want to make him more upset.
“Good,” Tania says and looks down at the expensive watch on her wrist. “I have to go. See you later.” She kisses Tony on the cheek, shoots a stern glance towards me and walks off.
Tony nods at me and grins. “So, let’s talk.”
“There is nothing more to say.”
“Really?”
I run my fingers through my hair. Tony is my best bodyguard and much more. He’s my friend and deserves my honesty. I want to respect him. “I thought I would forget her.”
“But you couldn’t manage, huh?”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“It was like a snap of lightning. Bang and you can’t get the chick out of you head.”
“Something like that.” I roll my fingers into fists. “I don’t know her full name, her address, her telephone number. Nothing. She vanished like a ghost. And she fucking took my telephone number, Tony. I kn
ow there is a lot wrong with me. But she could have called me at least. One stupid phone call, Tony.”
Tony lays his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. “Throw all the bad stuff out of your life so there is room for the good stuff. Sometimes life can surprise us in a most unexpected way.” He tosses my hair like I’m his son. “Did I tell you how I met my wife?” He starts his monologue, not waiting for my response.
He’s told me this story more than one hundred times, but I don’t interrupt him. He loves talking about his wife and kids and I’m always touched by the fire in his eyes each time he mentions his wife’s name.
Nicole was seventeen, Tony was eighteen. He saw her on the bus. They talked, but Tony was too nervous to ask for her telephone number or her address. She got off and Tony lost hope to see her ever again.
A year later, Tony met Nicole again at the club where he worked as a bouncer. He asked her to marry him on that night and she agreed.
Since that moment, they’ve been deliriously happy together. A lot of chicks have sought Tony’s attention, but he’s never cheated on his wife.
Shame burns my insides and I feel like I’m the lowest being of the lowest.
Chapter 4
Seafra
Coyote and I stand in front of his parents’ house. My eyes sweep over the sash windows and stone walls and a sense of nostalgia surges through me. Memories float through my head-my aunt yelling, my uncle working in the garden, Coyote and I sneaking out of the house through the window at night. Hale bringing girls to his bedroom and his mother going mad because of it.
“It’s quiet,” I say. “Like fucking deadly quiet.”
“And empty,” Coyote says. “Like fucking deadly empty.”
“You think Hale will come to join us this time?”
“No, he definitely prefers his big glass house filled with half naked bodies. He hates this place.”
“Well, it’s his loss.”
We visit this house two-three times a year, when we need solitude to charge our batteries. Coyote has been nagging me to buy something in the mountains, but so far, we haven’t decided yet. Hotels, Hale’s place and Alice’s place are our shelters to crash in.
Coyote puts the key into the lock and turns it with a rasp then pulls the door handle and kicks the door open. The cool smell of damp settles in my nostrils.
Gunner (Devil's Tears MC Book 1) Page 16