The entire left wall of the open space is glass cabinets filled with wines from across the world. Patrons relax on the black velvet sofas with cocktails in hand, their stuffy suits and fancy watches telling me everything I need to know. There’s even someone wearing a fucking fedora and trench coat. They’re the kind of people who turn the conversation back to focus on them any chance they get.
Right now, at eleven o’clock on a Friday night, there’s not an empty booth. Every suspended fireplace is lit and every glass is full. The scent of rum mixes with smoke, earthy and rich.
I check my pocket for the tiny GPS sticker I’ve got ready to go.Tyler had better be right about this.
It’s taken a year to find this sandy-haired maggot. The guy’s about my age, and I’ve heard he’s recently started coaching basketball at ECU. I never played against him when I was with the Kings, but I think I recognise his face from the division below. Regardless, he’s been on his phone the whole night, texting away.
A girl in a low-cut dress approaches him, her friend excitedly urging her forward.
‘Are you Alexander Barnes?’ the tall blonde speaks.
He side-eyes her, taking in her frame, before turning with a smug smirk to give her his full attention.
‘I am.’ Alexander takes her hand in his, laying a kiss on the back of it.
‘Iknewit was you.’
‘Fans of the game?’
‘We loved watching you back then! But also, I am sorry about your injury.’
The words earn them a sour look from Alexander, and it’s then that I notice he’s standing gingerly on his left side.
Before they lose his interest, the blonde girl loops her arm though his, letting her breasts press against him. ‘Listen, we hear you can get us into The Tropics …’
The Tropics?
My ears prick up. I was there last night and didn’t see this maggot orhim. Though I saw my Little Suspect, which was a nice surprise. Four years have passed and Gianna Brooks still has me in a chokehold. I bite back a smile at the memory of how bravely she approached, only to come to a standstill when I removed my helmet and recognition settled in. I did enjoy the emotions that danced across her pretty little face: shock, denial, relief, apprehension and lust. And my favourite, saved for last: wrath.
She stormed off without a word, but I can still taste her tears on my tongue.So sweet.
My cock swells at the thought.Fuck.This is not the place or the time.
‘I can’t get you into The Tropics,’ Alexander says, ‘but I can get you into something better.’ He wraps a hand around the girl’s waist, pulling her closer to whisper in her ear. I grip the edge of the bar benchtop, near ready to jump over it.
‘—and then I said, Barry, I know the cost of production was a hundred gee, but we need to reshoot, so let’s do it again.’ Two suited patrons saunter up, blocking my view as they stand in front of me on the other side of the bar. Irritation simmers in my gut as they blabber on before one of them throws their order my way. ‘Two martinis. Shaken, not stirred. Am I right?’
His friend laughs at his lame joke. They sound pompous, like the biggest problem in their lives would be a broken pool heater. I give them a blank look before Rose hastily takes over, pouring their pathetic drinks. They shuffle across to the left, restoring my clear view, but I need to get closer.
I walk out from behind the bar and over to the wall of windows overlooking the beach below. Silhouettes of skyscrapers kiss the stars. Empire City’s buildings are lined right up to the ocean, nestled on the edge of the void.
Pressing my knuckles against the glass, I gaze over the city while straining to hear Alexander beside me. Annoyance snaps through my body at the fact that I can’t hear him as clearly as I’d like, but the racers around here talk, especially if there’s a race on. And ifhe’s back, ifhe’s really here … I’ll make sure it’ll finally be over. I just need to keep tabs on my new friend so I’ll be led right tohim.
In my periphery, Alexander makes a move. ‘Drinks, ladies?’
I push off the window just as Alexander gets up and turns. His eyes have returned to his phone screen, sending him walking right into my chest. His liquor spills all over his shirt, staining the white with brown, but it’s the clatter of his phone against the slate tiles that makes me giddy.
Showtime.
A pair of heels step back as I pick up the device, discreetly placing the sticker on the back of it and running my hand over the screen to make it look like I’m dusting it off. The GPS tracker is secure, and transparent enough that no one will be able to tell it’s even on there.
‘Fuck,’ Alexander snaps, wiping at his shirt. ‘You should watch where you’re going.’
My teeth grind at his tone as he snatches his phone from my hand. ‘And you should keep your head up.’
He stops brushing at the stain, his eyes whip up to meet mine. ‘Wanna repeat that?’
I pause, interested to see what he’ll do next, and unsurprised when he lumbers into me.
