Page 69 of PortCity Killers

“Fuck you, man,” he scoffed, “Sorry boys. I forgot the joint’s being run by the Giovenni bitch now.”

He sneered the words, the sound coming out garbled as blood trickled down his lips. His glower blazed with hate that had less to do with me and more to do with the fact I had a fucking pussy between my legs. It was a look I recognized, and one that sent shivers down my spine.

I grit my teeth against the fear bubbling in my stomach. That fear morphed into disgust as he passed, spitting down at me. I didn’t have time to react. Lorenzo lunged at the man, taking him and his friend in each hand and dragging them out of the back as Laylah appeared next to me.

She wiped my face with a wet rag that smelled of vinegar and yeast, but I’d never been more thankful to have something gracing over my lips. Instinct had me almost gasping, but as soon as I had registered the wet, stickiness dripping down my nose and mouth I’d clamped it shut.

It wasn’t the first time a man had spit on me in disrespect, and it wouldn’t be the last. Not working in a place like this. You learned real fucking quick to keep your mouth closed when unknown viscous fluids hit you.

The noise of the bar filtered back in as Laylah fluttered around me, herding me into the back. No one spoke, the only speaking came from the TV that had been running full blast.

“I’m fine,” I took the rag she’d used to wipe off my face and threw it to into the wash bin, “What a fucking dick.”

“He was more than a dick, Alex. That was a man personally offended. He came in here looking for trouble. You should let Don know.”

I scrubbed at my lips with a new towel, “I don’t think I’ll have to. Lorenzo will probably report back to him anyway. Besides, I’m not trying to run to them every time I get a papercut.”

“This was serious. That guy looked murderous.” Laylah folded her arms, giving me a very disapproving stare. “You’ll have to file an incident report anyway.”

She walked over to the small desk in the breakroom that housed our binders and back of house paraphernalia, digging around in some papers before she set them down.

She pointed to them, then me before rushing past me to the bar where things seemed to be leveling back out, “Fill out the forms.”

“Yes, mom.”

I filled out the damn papers. Normally they would be handed off to Collin, and he would trash them, but I assumed they probably needed to go to Don or Valentina now. Since I didn’t want to deal with that just yet, I scanned it, saved the draft on Collin’s email and filed the hard copy away for later before I headed out to finish my shift.

Thankfully, as I suspected, the rest of the day was relatively quiet.

By the time five o clock rolled around Lorenzo still hadn’t come back, so I accepted Laylah’s offer to drive me home after she and Az assured me everything would be taken care of.

Since we were fully staffed for the night, I really didn’t need to stay, but something about going back to my lonely little studio without Jaymes there or not being at the bar working felt wrong, which is how I found myself knee deep in bleach on the bathroom floors by dinner time. I was restless, nesting, I knew, but if I was disappointed by my lack of notifications one more time, I would throw my phone into the ocean.

Generally, I liked having no one speaking to me, but right now, it was giving me ulcers.

In hindsight I should have chosen something other than true crime podcasts to listen to while I cleaned because when Jaymes's long, cold fingers plucked my headphone out of my ear, I all but screamed the damn building down.

Normally he would have cackled at having scared me, but his eyes looked sunken and the bags under them were more worrisome than the scratching of his voice.

“Jeeze, Alex. Way to wake the neighborhood.”

I threw the scrub brush down, both hands grabbing onto his forearms. I didn’t care that he was wearing a dark long sleeve shirt. I didn't care that I wanted to throttle him, I just pulled him into me, hugging his bony back.

It wasn’t until I had seen him that I realized a part of me had been convinced that the twins really might have killed him anyway, or that something terrible had happened to him. I didn’t know what that said about me. My stomach rioted against the whirlwind of thoughts and scenarios filling my head, making me sway in his arms.

“Jaymes, where the fuck have you been?” I hated how tiny my voice sounded.

It was hoarse and soft in a way that reminded me of under the cover cuddles and tiny bodies huddling away from bludgeoning fists. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one that I thought I had removed myself from, but evidently one spiral from Jaymes had me right back there in our old room, dirty and small and afraid.

I pushed the thoughts away, letting the sound of Jay’s heartbeat thunder in my ear as I pressed myself to him.

“Out,” he shrugged.

I slapped at his shoulder, “Out fucking where?”

“You’ll be mad at me,” he mumbled.

“I’m already mad at you, Jaymes,” I pulled back from him, “It’s been nearly a week and you haven’t texted; you haven’t called! I was worried fucking sick.”

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