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I laugh, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the bar. “I needed some fresh air. I'm good now though. Let's get more drinks, they're on me.”
“As long as you're willing to pay, then I guess I'm willing to forgive.”
I laugh again and we grab two shots of tequila. We don't go back to the dance floor. Instead, we people watch and drink until we can barely stand. I call for my car and give my very drunk cousin a ride home since she drove herself out tonight. I knew I'd be in no condition to drive ahead. I came out with one intention, and that was to forget everything. When I walk into the house, everything's dark, but there's enough light from the outside lights to show a figure sitting in one of the chairs in the foyer. “Have a good time?”
I swallow hard and continue to walk toward the stairs. “Yes. I'm tired and think I’ll turn in.”
“Good, because you won't be going out for a while. I have eyes everywhere. I know you were acting reckless with strangers on the dance floor. Does our livelihood mean nothing to you?”
“I…I'm sorry.”
“Sorry doesn't keep you and me alive. I need you to do better. Don't make the same mistakes as me. In the end, you'll only lose way more.”
“I just wanted to enjoy myself for one night. I don't think it's too much to ask.”
I hear the liquid sloshing in my father's glass.”I didn't think it would either. Not until one night led to too many. I got so lost in my enjoyment, I didn't realize the consequences of having too much freedom until it was too late.” He lets out a strangled breath. “Don't forget about the lunch we are attending tomorrow. These are very important people. We need to make a good impression.”
How could I forget? I freeze on the second step but still refuse to glance in his direction. “Don't we always?”
He releases a deep chuckle that chills me to the bone. He’s drunk and angry and that’s always the worst combination. He has been drinking more than usual and sitting alone in the dark, looking less like my father every day. Things must be worse than he lets on. Am I one of those consequences he wishes he could've avoided? Or is he referring to something he never wants to talk about? Is he the real reason my brother is dead? Could he have done something differently to prevent it? Is he worried I'm next? Maybe he cares more than I've realized. Maybe he's just as trapped as I am. He always sounds like he is.
“Goodnight, Mateo.”
The sound of ice clinks against his glass and I hurry up the stairs, shutting my door and locking it. Not that he will come up here, he never does. I shove my hand in my pocket, missing the feel of the rose. I don't even know why I carried it around with me tonight. It wasn't because I was hoping to give it back. I didn't think I'd ever see him again but since he was there, I slipped the rose back into the pocket it probably came from. So strange for something so delicate and soft to come from someone so hard. I liked the way the two mixed together. So much, I wanted to reunite them again.
The danger I sensed in him excited me more than it scared me. When he grabbed my neck and roughly handled my body against the car, I wanted more. My hard cock throbs against my underwear as I lay in bed. My bottom lip slips between my teeth as my hand slips down my stomach and past my underwear. I close my eyes and imagine it's the stranger's hand tugging and pulling on my erection. I release a silent moan when my thumb slides over my slit. I tug down the waistband of my underwear and my hard length jolts against my stomach, leaving behind drops of pre cum on my skin.
The room air is cool around my skin and is soon replaced by the warmth of the stranger's hand. His fingers move quicker against my velvet layer and I bend my knees, laying my feet flat on the bed, thrusting my hips upward. I continue to fuck into his fist while his free hand teases my nipples. My breathing increases and my stomach pulls tight. My teeth press tighter against my lower lip to keep me from screaming when my orgasm hits me stronger than it ever has.
Warm cum covers my stomach and I imagine him gathering it up in his fingers and feeding it to me. How full my mouth would be with his thick digits shoved inside, as I suck and lick them clean. Those last thoughts nearly have me growing hard again. I get cleaned up and throw myself back into bed, pulling the cool sheets over my body. I smile widely, completely sated and satisfied. Too bad it wasn't really the stranger’s hands touching me instead of my own. This time when I close my eyes, I don't open them again until the bright sun invades my window and forces them apart. Another day, another brunch, and another reminder of me being trapped in a life I hate.
Eight
Gabriel
I drive by his house many times, watching him the way I usually do. He's never alone like I need him to be. Constantly surrounded by guards and his parents. When is he going to take matters into his own hands again and find a way to breathe on his own? I don't need long. A ten-minute break of fresh air during his lunch break, a short private phone call outside, a trip to pick up food alone or another public hang out with his cousin again. Something.
Trying to focus on other important matters, I shake away my frustration of constantly missing chances to get close to him again and pull up in front of one of the bars where I usually meet people for business. When I walk inside, a man in a blue beanie and black hoodie is sitting at one of the tables in the back with a beer in hand. He holds up his hand as if I didn't already figure out who he was. He's the man who is about to help me fuck up Miguel Juventino's day. “Did you bring it?” he asks, fidgeting in his seat.
I nod, pulling out a wad of cash from the pocket of my jacket. I slide it across the table into his hand. “This is only half. You get the rest when the job has been completed.”
He glances around the bar, yanking his hat further down his head as if it's some invisible cloak. “Okay. And if this gets back to me, no harm comes to my family?”
“I'll make sure of it.”
“And you'll make sure they get the money.”
“It's a promise. As long as you finish the job, the money is as good as yours. We still good?”
He nods again, releasing a deep sigh. “Yes, consider it done. Tonight is when we are supposed to move the next shipment. I'll take care of it then.”
I nod, leaning back in my chair. “Good. You should have everything you need in your car soon. Wait at least fifteen minutes before heading out. Don't forget to text me when it's done.”
He nods one last time before sliding out of his seat. He never stops glancing around with paranoia written all over his pale face and I don't blame him.
The things we do for our family.
I stand up, straightening out my clothes and a voice has me spinning around. “I did what you asked me to, boss. Left the package under the driver's seat in the brown messenger bag. Plenty of fentanyl to go around.” Trey, my only runner, stands in front of me, straightening his jacket. He never fails to get the job done. With plenty of time to spare too. It's the main reason he's worked for me for so long. He's the only one I've been able to trust.
