“Fuck off—”
“Secondly,” Rus interrupted. “You need to work on your aim, dipshit.”
Rus flung his arm upward, giving a demonstration on how to hurl a can. In a swift motion, Rus slammed the soda can into the man’s chin with such ferocity, he crushed it flat and sent the man tumbling back into the crowd.
Another man swore at Rus, swinging his sign. All Rus saw was red. He braced his arm to lessen the impact, then snatched the sign away and went to punch the man.
Rus unloaded all his pent-up fury, wrapped in a whirlwind of chaos as protesters screamed and shouted and ran away. Some stayed to fight. Things turned into a cesspool of destruction. Rus kicked and punched at people every which way. He raged and roared. Someone blitzed him from behind, but that didn’t stop Rus. It only further infuriated him.
Every time someone struck him, he reached out and swung back. Rus didn’t give a damn. He wanted to beat the ever-living hell out of the entire crowd. He kept swinging until sirens blared around him.
Chapter One
Dylanraced from one end of the venue to the next, double-checking all the little details to ensure everything went off without a hitch. While he hadn’t been put in charge of the fundraiser itself, this was the most responsible he’d been for organizing such a big event at Slayer’s Brush Art Gallery on behalf of Dorothy’s Home.
Turning the small gallery into a suitable locale for a hundred and fifty people plus the caterers seemed an impossible task. Slayer’s Brush certainly had the elitist vibe the fundraiser required to attract donors, but Dylan struggled to make arrangements that wouldn’t leave their wealthy benefactors climbing over each other.
“Still freaking out?” Kaiden asked, his light voice a bit pitchy as he carried a rather large portrait. “How goes the list of a million and one things?”
“Got it down to a solid hundred thousand.”
“Impressive.” Kaiden nodded with a congratulatory bob of his head.
Dylan couldn’t tell if Kaiden had added some type of glittery gel to his emerald green hair or if the lights added some sparkle. Either way, it looked nice and stylish, like most of Kaiden’s getup on a daily basis. From his snazzy outfits to his seamless makeup.
The hair reminded Dylan he needed to do something with his own. His blond highlights were fading, and the roots had grown about half the length of his hair. Maybe he should attempt something a bit bolder, like Kaiden, this time around, but Dylan never thought bold really suited him.
Speaking of bold… Dylan soaked in the bizarre painting Kaiden hung up for display.
“Trust me, this abstract baby is going to create a bidding war,” Kaiden said, reading Dylan’s mind as he often did.
“You’re the expert.”
“Exactly,” Kaiden said, playfully backstepping with an almost rhythmic shimmy. “So when I tell you this place will hold a hundred guests comfortably, trust me.”
With that, Kaiden twirled and kicked his leg high in some semi-graceless version of a pirouette as he danced between a few others helping with the setup.
Kaiden had worked at Slayer’s Brush for years, helping with the usual events, and when he recommended the venue, Dylan didn’t see any problems until he’d been tasked with all the last-minute to-dos. Suddenly, everything seemed rather pressing, a weight of too many tasks to achieve perfection.
“A hundred and fifty,” Dylan clarified.
“Huh?” Kaiden straightened up, adjusting his corset vest, which had wriggled up a bit from his playful jumps and kicks and spins.
Unlike Dylan, who dressed pretty casually most days—finding his button-up and tie a bit overwhelming for the evening—Kaiden always wore something flashy. Usually, a corset vest of some kind. He seemed to have dozens of them in every possible color combination, and he always paired them with a long-sleeved dress shirt, a colorful tie, fancy slacks, and perfectly polished shoes.
If it weren’t for Kaiden’s goofy personality, Dylan would’ve felt out of place the moment they crossed paths, but despite his presentation, Kaiden remained pretty down to earth.
“You said a hundred,” Dylan elaborated on his comment a moment ago. “It’s a hundred and fifty-ish. Also, gotta add in the staff and such.”
“Oh.” Kaiden’s face fell flat. “Well, it’ll be fine. People cancel all the time.”
“Wait, what?” Dylan asked wide-eyed.
Before he could get clarification, Kaiden rushed off to grab more artwork to put on display for tonight.
“Everything will be fine, everything will be fine, everything will…” Dylan’s affirming mantra turned into a mumble as the grittiest of the worker bees made his way out from the back, carrying two of the pillar-designed tables over his shoulders.
Rus Diamond looked like a surly little Greek God hauling those marble pillars. Well, they weren’t marble. Dylan wasn’t sure what they were exactly, other than Kaiden had suggested them to amp up the aesthetic for the fundraiser. Kaiden always had brilliant ideas. They were basically high tables for guests to set their drinks and plates down from time to time, to congregate with each other, and to spark a conversation with an elegant piece of decoration.
