He’s in a pair of grey sweats and a white tee that has splatters of blood on it and his eye has closed some more with the swelling.
“Every time I see you, you’re falling apart man.” Iknock his shoulder.
“You’ve met me twice,” He grumbles, “Both times were cheap shots.”
“That first time I dropped you at the hospital.” I call back to him, climbing the stairs, “You telling me that was multiple cheap shots.”
“Yep,” River grunts in response.
I scoff a laugh and continue down a short hall before I shove open the door and step out into the street. Rain is still falling in a downpour that floods the city and it’s chilly, but I welcome the fresh air and cold water on my skin.
“Where the fuck are we going?” River hollers.
“Anywhere but here,” I snap back, my car beeping when I hit the button to unlock.
River doesn’t say shit as he climbs into the passenger seat and I pull out onto an empty road, only going a few blocks before I pull up to a familiar club.
“Here,” River turns his nose up.
“Give over,” I roll my eyes, “Get your ass inside. We need to chat.”
He grumbles as I get us passed the queue and through the doors, not having to say a single word to anyone. Within three minutes, we are inside, beyond the rope and in a booth in the VIP section of the club. I order us both a whiskey.
River pales. “I can’t afford that shit.”
“It’s on me.”
“I’m not here for a handout,” His lip curls but he doesn’t move from the booth.
“Not a handout,” I shrug, “A drink for a friend.”
“Is that what we are?” He quirks a brow that’s sliced by a thick scar.
“Why the fuck not, River?”
When the drinks arrive at the table, I slide one toward him and then wrap my fingers around the short glass, bringing it to my face as I inhale the smoky, spicy scent of it.
River does no such thing and knocks the whole thing back in one go. He doesn’t even flinch.
“What are you doing fighting in the pits?” I ask him as I take a much smaller sip.
“Passes the hours,” He lies smoothly.
“And the truth?”
His eyes narrow, “Not sure what you want from me.”
“Nothing,” I shrug, “Why don’t I tell you why I go and then if you feel like sharing, you can?”
“Fine.”
“It started about eleven years ago.” I start, “I work for someone. Someone incredibly dangerous and every day, I have to put on a show, I show the world a version of me that doesn’t exist.”
River sits silently, watching me. He reminds me so much of myself it physically pains me to see him. To see what I represent.
“But that version and the version you know are very different people. Sure, the people in my real life know I have a switch that could flip at any moment, but they push, always and I don’t get to snap. Not the way I want to. I have this rage,” I tap my chest, “That builds up inside of me that I can’t let out, if I do people get hurt, people I care about.”
River’s eyes drop to the table, to the empty glass he still holds in his grasp.
