ATLAS
I love my bar.The River Styx is the only place I have ever walked into and said to myself, “I’m home.”
I’m not even that big of a drinker, but I wanted to go somewhere to fill the void.
To get inspired.
So I sit behind the bar and glide the charcoal pencil across the page of my sketchbook.Observing people at their highs and lows helps me create the art that lines the walls of my bar.Every face belongs to a patron.Some are regulars, but I never draw the same person more than once.
Not until Ophelia.
“Hey, boss.”Cheryl slides a glass of water in front of me.“What are you drawing tonight?”
I nod at the couple eating baskets of fried food by the window, fighting over money.
Who will pay the bill?What should they tip the waitress?Should they tip at all?
“Ah, those assholes,” she groans.“They keep asking for free stuff.The freebie seekers never tip.”
Cheryl is the head bartender and runs the place when I’m not here.She’s in her late forties with four kids that she sometimes has to bring with her because she can’t find a babysitter.
“He’s a sorry excuse for a man,” I tell her.
“She’s too pretty for him,” Cheryl comments, twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger.“Way out of that loser’s league.He looks like he crawled out of the depths of hell.”
I bob my head in agreement.
The pale skin beneath his eyes is ringed with dark circles as if he hasn’t slept in days.I haven’t seen him before.
“He looks like one of The Serpents’ fanboys.”She laughs.“Bet he’s only hanging around until one of those troublemakers shows up.”
The four psychos who call themselves The Serpents are like local celebrities in Beacon Bay.After I made a deal with them, my bar became their new headquarters.Belen Drakos has taken everything I love from me.
First, my father.
Now, our mother.
On top of that, Ares is getting blackmailed into losing a fight by Belen Drakos.He sent Alexander to collect.My brother bet money he didn’t have with a bookie, and now he has to lose the fight or sell his club.He’s undefeated, so the odds on his next fight are in their favor.
I finish drawing the couple and flip back to a sketch of Ophelia.
Cheryl leans over my shoulder, her thick perfume clinging to the air like syrup.“Who’s that?She’s pretty.”
“Ophelia,” I bite out through clenched teeth.
I hate her.
But I want her.
I have already filled several pages with sketches of Ophelia.Her power and beauty fuel my passion.Her anger pours out of her, even when she’s not speaking.She’s mad about our parents getting married, which I understand.I’m not thrilled about being related to Belen Drakos.
After Ophelia left the house, I couldn’t draw.Nothing popped into my head.She’s stimulating my creativity, and I don’t like it.The daughter of our enemy can’t be my muse.
Cheryl taps me on the shoulder.“Boss, one of The Serpents is looking for you.”
I glance up and find Morpheus popping out of the storage room.Once he has my attention, he whistles and tips his head.He’s the second-in-command of The Serpents.
“Better go see what he wants,” she says.“I’ll handle everything while you’re gone.”
