Page 7 of Blaze & Ajax

I adored Stix. He was a great friend. His mom was our mom, too, always taking care of us and supportive, and she was sweet as hell. If we needed a woman to talk to, she was it.

I let him bitch before setting him down. “What the fuck!” he huffed. But after straightening his T-shirt, he smiled brightly. “Guess what? I’m the guest drummer tonight! I’m fucking pumped!”

He’d always had dreams of being a drummer. It hadn’t panned out yet, but sometimes the local bands let him play a couple of songs.

We high-fived. “Sweet! I can’t wait.”

I eventually lost track of time as I monitored the crowd while Stone checked for IDs and took cash for the cover to get in. Stix and Nacho served drinks, while Alpha and Pippin made them. Jazz and Blondie cleaned tables and spilled drinks.

As I scanned the bar, my eyes were suddenly drawn to the front by the door, seeing Cueball, and then that fucking spitfire, Blaze, behind him. Even as short as he was, he stood out. My heart beat a little faster and my fists clenched and unclenched at seeing him.

It had been almost six months since he’d hurt Stix, and I couldn’t figure out why I still couldn’t let it go when everyone else had. He’d even apologized for it. Stix didn’t have a problem with him, so why did I? But I couldn’t let it go, and my eyes couldn’t stop watching him.

I leaned against thebar on a Friday night next to Cueball, who nursed fucking water as I watched Stix bang on the drums with the band playing. While he was pretty good at it, I never understood what Stone saw in him. They couldn’t have been more different.

I glanced over at Stone, who was supposed to be carding people to get into the bar, but his eyes were glued on Stix. Stone was obsessed. I didn’t fucking get it, but to each his own, I suppose.

Cueball never dated anyone, never showed interest in anyone, never talked about anyone. He never drank, did drugs, or shared shit about himself. I guess I should’ve understood Stone’s obsessive nature since I’d been obsessed with Cueball for far too long. Not anymore, but it took a while to move on.

I chugged back the rest of my whiskey and ordered another from Pippin. I raised my glass to him since he wore earbuds all the time, and he couldn’t hear me. His red hair fell into his face, and he brushed it back with long fingers, looking terrified. His green eyes were always wide and a little panicky when I was around. I scoffed.

Pippin quickly poured me another, and I dropped my last ten on the counter to pay him. Fuck, I was quickly running out of cash. I wish Storm would hurry up and snag some pills for me to sell.

The alcohol was starting to get to me, and I enjoyed the burn and buzz as my body vibrated from the drums pounding loud enough to rattle my soul.

My eyes kept straying over to Ajax, standing above the crowd like some sentinel, with folded arms over his chest, scanning the people for losers who wanted to cause trouble. I itched to go over there and piss him off. He always reacted. While he was kind of scary-looking because he was so big, I wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe it was his innocent baby face.

Suddenly, he sensed my presence and turned to look at me. I smiled and wiggled my fingers at him before giving him the bird. His entire body tensed, and he gave me the middle finger back, making me laugh.

I pulled my attention back to the band, feeling Ajax’s eyes still on me. Talk about obsession. He was always focused on me with his hatred.

I downed the rest of my drink and turned to Cueball, sitting on a stool, not watching the band, but staring at the wooden counter. What the fuck was up with him? I didn’t bother to ask since he wouldn’t tell me, anyway.

“Spot me a twenty?” I asked him over the music.

He looked over with those amber eyes I always got lost in. “You need to get a fucking job,” he said, grabbing his wallet and handing me a twenty. “This is the last time. Get your shit together and find something permanent… and legal.”

“Who the fuck’s going to hire a former rich boy with no experience or ID?”

“You work to get experience. You’ve been on your own long enough to know that. Stop being fucking lazy. And maybe get the balls to go to your mom to get your ID back.”

I huffed and downed the rest of my drink. Fuck jobs. But if Storm didn’t come through soon, I wouldn’t have a choice. I was running out of food, and bills were coming up soon. Always fucking bills, bills, bills.

“You could always beg to go back home,” he added.

Yeah, I could if Mom would even answer the phone. Despite my bravado, I didn’t have the balls to go home and beg. Screw that noise. But even after all these years, I pined for my old life. I didn’t miss her at all. Mom had always been a cold bitch, but I missedhim, my Dom.

By my fifth whiskey, I was feeling prime and a little wonky. That was my ideal state. Not too drunk. Not too sober.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” I said.

Cueball didn’t even look at me. What was his problem, anyway? He was being surlier than usual.

I pushed my way through the crowd, a little too wobbly since the bar wasn’t holding me up any longer, and made my way toward the back where the restrooms were located. I passed the employee lounge and pushed the door open to the men’s room.

After unzipping, I pissed in an available urinal, standing between two beefy dudes who dwarfed me. I quietly groaned with the release of pressure in my bladder. When I finished, I zipped up and washed my hands, staring into the mirror. My eyes were a little glazed over, and I fingered back my hair with ringed fingers.

There was a moment, just for a second, when loneliness threatened to consume me. I hated seeing my face in the mirror. I swallowed it back like I did everything else and drew from my well of indifference.

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