“Do you ever speak?”
He shakes his head again, not uttering a word.
“Do you ever smile?”
Again, only a head shake.
“Do you at least get laid?”
That question earns me a glance in my direction. The corners of Knuckles’s mouth curving up. “What the fuck do you think?” He reaches down and grabs his crotch like his junk is God’s given gift.
“Fair enough.” I take another sip, feeling inadequate for the first time in my life.
“We’re hitting the bar downstairs before the next round,” Ky announces.
Perfect, a variety of alcohol to drown myself in sounds so much better than this shitty beer. Maybe I’ll order a shot of everything and set up a personal buffet.
“You holdin’ up, man?” Tempest nudges me as we head out of the suite.
“Oh, you know me. I just roll with the punches,” I relay with a sarcastic smile.
“Your face definitely reflects that,” he talks shit, playing with the toothpick in his mouth.
“I think he’s even prettier now,” Hawk annoyingly chimes in. “How many chicks you pull with that new face?”
“More than you in your entire lifetime.” I shove him into the elevator. “Ladies like tough guys, but you wouldn't know a damn thing about that.”
“Enough,” Ky barks. “Jesus Christ, it’s like I've got a posse of kindergarteners following me around.”
“Now you know how I felt all those years,” Gambit grunts.
“I feel your pain just looking after this one.” Knuckles alludes to me, taking everyone in the elevator by surprise. I think that’s the longest sentence he’s ever spoken.
“Yeah, well, he’s our biggest problem child.” Hawk just has to keep digging deeper. The elevator doors ding open, and I harass Hawk once again on the way out, shoving him hard enough to knock into Tempest.
“Quit it, or I’m going to show both of you what a tough guy really looks like,” Tempest threatens, and we both know he fucking means it.
Hawk and I back off. If there is one thing we can agree on, it’s don’t mess with Temps. The dark, mysterious, broody biker is as deadly as he looks. His style hits “intimidating motherfucker” right on the head.
The bar we stumble into isn't the grandest of venues, but I notice Fender’s eyes light up when he sees the brightly colored walls muraled with guitars and a karaoke machine on the small stage, fired up and ready to go.
Ky heads straight for the bar, where Kira and Liv are sitting. As much as I want to gravitate toward Ky, I opt to sit with Tempest, Fender, Hawk, and Gambit at a table. There’s a pretty waitress already taking drink orders, and two-dollar Jägermeister shots all night. What more does a desperate man need?
I ask for a Miller Lite with a Jäger chaser, and tell her to keep ’em coming.
Knuckles is parked in an obscure corner of the room. In his safe zone, at least that’s what I've dubbed it. He doesn’t socialize. He just sits and watches all of us like a fucking weirdo.
Whatever.
The waitress drops off our drinks lickety-split, despite the seven other tables she’s currently taking care of.
That I can appreciate.
I down my beer, trying to at least listen to the conversation being had around me, but all I really hear is white noise, and all I really see is Liv. Laughing and joking with Ky and Kira, like she never missed a beat. It’s like she was never gone. She fits right into this world.My world, and yet wants nothing to do with it. Or me.
“You stare too long at a lit match, and eventually it burns out,” Gambit leans over and says.
“What?” I think he’s reached his limit. Because I don’t have a damn clue what he’s talking about.
