I turn to see the guy I met last week at the convenience store, and he beams a huge smile at me. He is leaner than I remember, his dark hair unruly, and his eyes are wide and a little unhinged at the same time, almost as if whatever is going on in his head is brilliant and dangerous, and he wants you to come and see. He is objectively good-looking in a way that would be annoying if he wasn’t so completely unaware.
“But would he be willing to leave fingerprints on my neck that take days to heal, or handprints on my ass so I can’t walk right for days?”
Doren pours me a bourbon and slides it across the bar, then moves to serve other customers.
“I don’t know, but I am happy to ask him. Though if you want waterboarding with alcohol and paper cuts, I’m your man. Or chicken nuggets at one in the morning—nothing hits better than some nuggies after a few drinks, am I right?”
I laugh and offer him my hand. “Kayla.”
“Vero. Wanna go to a different bar? I know it sounds like I want to lure you away and murder you, but I promise I’m not a serial killer. Would I kill for my friends? Yes, but this isn’t one of those situations. We can catch a Ridez.”
I think about his offer for all of two seconds, because my life is fucking boring, and this guy is the first breath of fresh air in solong. While leaving with a stranger I just met is dangerous, with that mentality, so are one-night stands. Plus, drinking where I work is a little sad; it shows everyone I have no friends. It’s really not my fault, though. I just hate people in general; they annoy me. Since leaving the douchebag, I have the freedom to choose my friends again, even if I don’t want them, but someone like Vero could make a good friend for me.
Once we leave the bar, Vero pulls out his phone and orders a ride. “So what’s your story? Brawley tells me I should ask questions like that because it’s polite, but then I talk so much I forget what people say. You interest me a lot, so I might remember.”
I chuckle at him as he rambles on. “Not much to say, really. I work here, and clearly I’m a loser and spend my free time here as well. My family lives a few hours away, which is fine because they don’t like my lifestyle. Apparently, I am wasting my potential working in a bar, but it pays my rent on time, with enough left over to eat, so it’s win-win. What about you?”
The Ridez car pulls up before Vero can answer, and we both jump inside. “I come from a normal family life. Both sets of grandparents are still married, and my parents are so in love it’s gross sometimes. My older brother Ezra is a doctor, Caulder is an investment banker, and my baby sister Rue—or Kangaroo, as I call her—is in college. School wasn’t for me—I’m too high energy.”
I smile at that because since we got into the car, his leg has not stopped bouncing.
“I dropped out of high school and took on odd jobs for a while until one day I went to an underground fight, where I met Brawley. We have been glued to each other since.”
“Is Brawley your best friend or...?” I hate fishing for information, but it would just be my luck if this guy is gay aswell. Gotta love when you find someone semi-interesting and are friend-zoned straight away.
Vero laughs. “He is my best friend, but he is also mine. I don’t know how else to explain what we are. He is my everything, but we also see other people. And when I say other people, I mean women. Brawley wouldn’t let another man touch me—he is a little hotheaded, but not in a domestic-violence kind of way. I consent to his violence because it turns me on, but he is very possessive. Just yesterday he and our friend got into a punch up over me—it is a long story, but it was so hot. Where we live, lots of people are in poly relationships. I should have mentioned that before I invited you to come with me. Everyone tells me I forget the important information, but my brain works how it works. Oh, and the place is kind of like a year-round Halloween attraction.”
“That sounds like my kind of spot, where you can be yourself and no one gives a crap.”
The Ridez car eventually comes to a stop, and I second-guess if maybe he is bringing me here to kill me. Where we are is deserted, with no people in sight.
“You should see your face,” he says. “Don’t be scared, but the Ridez cars don’t go any further than here. The lights will turn on when they detect a person. Watch.”
He jumps out of the car and runs through the large, open gates, causing a glow to light up under his feet. I exit the car and walk over to where he is waiting. “You just follow the path.”
We head in the direction the lights indicate until we reach an alleyway where we find other people and loud chatter. Vero waves me on, and I follow past some stares, while others don’t acknowledge us at all. He pushes open a door that says “Ares’s Bar” and waits for me to step inside. It’s not overly busy—a mix of people dressed in costumes and others in regular clothes—but all chatter dies off as everyone turns our way.
Vero must not notice because he grabs my hand and drags me through the room toward the bar. “This is the guy with the ten-inch dick,” he tells me over his shoulder, then turns to address the bartender. “Would you throw her around a little?”
I brace myself, unsure what the hell is about to happen, but the guy barely reacts. He glances up from the glass he’s wiping, and his gaze slides across me. He’s not what I was expecting, with broad shoulders, dirty-blonde hair, and gray eyes that give away absolutely nothing. There is something about the way he holds himself that makes the bar feel like it belongs to him without him speaking a word, and he looks at me like he wants to take all my broken pieces then figure out how they all fit together. I instantly decide I need to be careful with him.
“Vero,” he says, setting the glass down. “I think your guest might want to settle in first. Maybe a drink before we discuss throwing her around?”
He walks around the bar and extends his hand to me. “I’m Ares. And you are?”
“Kayla,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Well, Kayla,” he says, “welcome to Fear Island. Can I get you a drink?”
Vero bounces on the spot beside me. “See? I told you he was super nice. Now come on, let’s get?—”
“Let her breathe, Vero,” Ares says, not unkindly, but almost reminding Vero how to act. “What’ll it be?”
“Shots. Lots and lots of shots,” I say.
Vero laughs and interlocks our arms. “You heard the lady, bring us some shots and something to wash them down with.”
The night continues in the same way: lots of shots, lots of chasers, and Vero talking at a speed that is hard to keep up with the more I drink. The bar slowly fills with people, all in costume, and I laugh when a scarecrow falls through the door, literally.
