What the fuck?The beer in my hand falls and shatters on the ground as I open the video. My hands are trembling, and I am prepared to see my best friend beaten up, half dead, or worse. Logan whose beer just shattered, side-eyes me, and Melanie peeks over my shoulder, trying to see what happened.
“Is that Kai?” She asks on the sight of Kai in a strange bedroom frozen in the thumbnail of the video.Yup that’s Kai.Blue hair, tattoos, and mania flashing through his eyes like the lunatic he is. And most importantly, he is not in danger.Like at all.This man looks happy to be kidnapped. He is the happiest fucking kidnapping victim I have ever seen in my life.
I put one of my ear buds in my ear ignoring completely both Melanie and Logan before I hit play. Kai’s voice hits my eardrum as the video starts.
“Hello, Devils! It’s Kai. Your favorite biker.” He starts with the confidence that I will punch out of him the moment I see him. The asshole is clearly not in danger, standing in a pink bedroom with books and stuffed animals. It’s a very feminine bedroom, decorated in a whimsical way that is as if it got straightout from a fantasy novel. Not that I would know. I definitely don’t read fairy smut. Men don’t read spicy romance stories about fairies, and last time I checked, I am a man.Who the fuck am I kidding?I sure do read weird, spicy stories, and I may have read a couple of the fairy smut variety, but only because my ex-girlfriend used to love them. I just wanted to know what they’re about.I am a curious guy. What can I say?
I am not even sounding convincing to myself. Still, I keep that specific interest only to myself because if anyone but Kai knew, I would never hear the end of their teasing. Kai might currently be the asshole in this particular story, but he is usually the cooler one out of the two of us. Not that I care about it. It’s not in my best interest to be the cool one anyway, because if we are both behaving like immature children like Kai currently does, this business will go straight to hell. It happens so that we kind of need it to survive. That leaves me being the responsible one.Keeping the boat, or the bar in this case, afloat and all that.
“What the hell, man? Are you going to get me that beer, or should I go to someone who wants my money instead?” Logan yells, waving a hundred-dollar bill dismissively in front of me as if that will get my attention.
That’s it. I am over this. I flash him a toothy smile before I lean over, grab him by his collar, pull him slightly over the bar, and punch him right on the nose. I let him fall back on his feet on the other side of the bar and grab my jacket.Maybe I am not the mature one in this partnership. I might be worse than Kai even.
Melanie, who’s standing still behind me, holds a hand over her mouth while looking at the guy I just punched. He holds his bleeding nose, and tears stream down his cheeks.Pussy. He can’t even take a punch without crying.This guy is supposed to be an ex-conif rumors are rightbut yet here he is crying like a little girl over a punch. Relax dude I just tapped your nose a little bit with my knuckles it’s not a big deal. You will totallylive, unless you start being annoying again then your probability of a life quality will significantly decrease. I don’t say this of course. I choose to ignore the man with the hurt ego and bloody nose, and the blonde who’s running at his aid.This is a problem for another night. Tonight I have to deal with my blue haired problem.
“What the hell man?” Logan yells but as I said it’s best to ignore him, and that’s exactly what I do.
Trust me when I say I would like nothing more than to land another punch on this guy, but here I am being the bigger man and letting it go. Besides, he is not really the target of my anger; Kai is. I am one of his bad decisions away from using his neon mop of hair to clean the fucking counter with after I dispose of his body in a river somewhere. I am trying to rise above, and here he is pulling pranks of kidnappings on one of our busiest nights of the week. It’s not like he needs to be here to keep the damn bar open. Don’t worry, Kai. Melanie and I have this. Go play your little kidnapping fantasy.....I am going to kill him.
“Let me get you some ice, darlin’, I am so sorry about this. Leo is having a tough night.” I hear Melanie explain, but I don’t give a fuck. This asshole deserved a punch, and if you ask me, it was long overdue. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, and fail.Obviously. I need to fire my therapist; the calming techniques she has been teaching me are useless.
“We are closing.” I announce as I grab my car keys. I remove from my keychain the keys for the bar and toss them to Melanie before I climb on a chair.
“Listen here you assholes. Go find another bar to drink tonight. We are closing.” I announce with a smile of a very proud bar owner, who clearly is driving his business to the ground, before I jump down and wink at Melanie. She shakes her head.I don’t blame her, it’s a miracle she is still putting up with us as is.
“Between your temper and Kai’s stupid ego, I wonder how we still have any customers.” She shakes her head while pressing a towel full of ice on Logan’s nose, but I ignore her.
She is not wrong.I know that. I am not that insane to ignore the elephant in the bar. It’s a surprise to both me and Kai that we still have customers, but it looks like the more you yell at these assholes, the more they show up. Bunch of masochists, I am telling you.
I head for the door while customers are waving their hands to pay; others complain, and the dude I punched is still standing in the same spot, holding his bloody nose and making puppy eyes at the hot waitress like the fucking pussy he is.
Okay maybe I do have a temper. I should probably check with my therapist, or an exorcist. Both could work. Or maybe I just need a good fuck; everyone feels better after a good night of kinky sex. I should get laid. Find a date. Maybe go on Tinder or Grindr, or both.
Chapter 2
Noah
IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT,which means it’s book club night.
Which also means I am sitting comfortably on my best friend’s couch, reading my book, with a glass of wine in my hand. Such a great start to our weekend.
Rachel is lost in her mafia romance, while I read my enemies-to-lovers paranormal guilty-pleasure of a book that I would never admit to love.To anyone but Rachel, that is.Smutty books, good wine, and my best friend. I wouldn’t choose any other way to spend the night.
I have always loved routine. It gives me structure and a sense of security. It’s nice to be able to predict your life. Nothing ever sticks out of the ordinary. Friday nights are book club nights; weekends are full of work and smutty books; the rest of the week is equally booked with shared activities that both I and Rachel enjoy.It’s nice. It’s safe. It’s almost perfect.
After the hell I went through with my ex-boyfriend, this is exactly what I need. I might love walking red flags and toxic love stories in my books, but in my life I prefer the simple, safer option. For that reason,and many others, I have chosen to ban romance from my life. It’s a wise choice. Men are toxic. I should know. I am one.
Lucky for me, Rachel has done the same, so here we are, spending our Friday night reading books. Like any self-respecting bookworm would. Wine, smutty books, and work gossip. Can life get any better than that?I doubt it.
I take another sip of my wine as a sound echoes through the house.What the hell was that? It’s been going on for a while now.I turn to Rachel, who seems not to care about the sound coming from the upstairs floor. I wouldn’t care either if this wasn’t happening for at least the last hour.Something is wrong.
“What was that?” I say as another sound follows, and then another, and then another after that. Every sound is louder than the one before it.Something is definitely wrong.Did someone break in? Are we about to be murdered?
If that’s the case, would throwing Rachel at him so I can make a run for my life be considered wrong? Will I be a bad friend for saving myself and throwing my bestie into a murderer’s arms? Probably not, right? Like it should be a get out of-jail pass for friendships if your lives are on the line. Everyone for themselves.Right?
“The cat probably.” That makes sense.
I return my gaze to my book and start reading at the top of the page... wait... she doesn’t have a cat! What the hell is happening? Please don’t let it be a murderer. I just got used to our new routine. I can’t die that young. I refuse to die that young. He can have Rachel I don’t care. I am not dying just because I wanted to read a spicy book and drink some wine at her house. Who am I kidding? I would never let my best friend die. I am the type of friend that will help you hide a body, not the one who will let their friend die to save themselves. I would love that level of survival instinct and self-preservation, but I have the survival skills of a hamster.
