Love (and other four letter words)

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

Authors Note:

Hello! As always, please forgive any typos, omitted words, ect. that may occur in this chapter. I have done my best to self edit but for some reason, the mistakes are always more noticeable to me AFTER I post. Why? I don't know! Anyways, enjoy.

“Okay…what about those two?” Noah asked, discreetly pointing to a man and woman sitting across the lobby of the waiting room in the court house, “Friends or dating?”

“Siblings,” I replied, “Same nose, same eyes…and they look annoyed to be here together.”

“Good point,” Noah agreed.

“Okay…” I said, scanning the room for another pair, “What about those guys? Friends or dating?”

“Dating,” Noah replied without hesitation.

“You think so? They look straight to me,” I challenged.

“The one on the left is wearing a jacket that’s way too big for him,” Noah elaborated, “Which means he probably borrowed it from the guy on the right. How often do you see straight guys wearing each other’s clothes?”

“Nice observation,” I complimented, “You know, I once read somewhere that people will subconsciously choose partners that remind them of their parents.”

Noah looked at me and gave me a dismissive wave.

“That’s bull shit. You don’t remind me of either of my parents,” He scoffed, “Why? Do I remind you of yours?”

“Well, I’ve never met my dad, so for all I know, you could be just like him,” I shrugged.

“Why is that, anyway?” Noah inquired, “Did he die? Did he go to jail? Did your parents get divorced?”

“Oh, it’s a story as old as time it’s self,” I sighed, “Boy meets girl. Boy bangs girl. Girl gets knocked up. Boy runs as fast as possible in the opposite direction.”

“What a dick,” Noah empathized.

“I can’t really blame him, they were still teenagers,” I sympathized, “If some girl told me she was pregnant with my kid, I’d probably bail, too.”

“If some girl tells you she’s pregnant with your kid, you better laugh in her fucking face,” Noah said, patting my knee, “Okay, Back to the game…Couple or friends?”

I looked to see who he was referring to, but he wasn’t pointing to anyone.

“Who?” I whispered, looking around for a pair we hadn’t guessed for yet.

“Us,”  He whispered back.

“Oh! Um…”

I pondered for a moment before turning the question around on him,

“What do YOU think?”

“It isn’t my turn,” He answered.

“Okay, um..couple…?” I said, unsure, “Or....friends? Best friends? Best friends with benefits?”

“You’re only allowed to guess once,” Noah taunted.

“Well, what do YOU think we are?” I turned it around on him once more.

“Hmmm…” he thought for a second before answering, “Well, you are my friend. Who is a boy. So, if I had to put those two words together, that would make you my….friend-boy.”

“That’s your answer? We’re Friend-Boys?” I clarified.

“Yeah,” Noah grinned at me.
 
“Okay…” I said, glancing off into the distance, “Well, uh, if anyone asks I’m just gonna say you’re my boyfriend, because if I call you my Friend-Boy, they’re gonna think I’m dyslexic.”

“That works for me,” Noah agreed.

Just then, the NOW SERVING sign on the screen changed from 65 to 66.

“Oh, that’s us,” Noah said, standing up with our ticket in his hand, “Come on, friend-boy.”

“Yeah, you see? It hits the ear wrong,” I said as we walked up to the pay-booth.

“Hello. Welcome to the Provincial Court office of Vehicular Offenses. It’s my pleasure to serve you. What are we doing today?” The unhappy looking clerk asked as Noah slid our ticket under the protective glass barrier.

“We are paying this speeding ticket,” He replied.

“Okay…” She said, stamping some arbitrary piece of paper after we went through the rigamaroo of exchanging papers and licenses, “The offender will receive 3 demerit points on his G1 license and after taxes, it’s gonna be $224.68.”

“Dammit,” I sighed. Noah retrieved a fist full of 20’s from his wallet and handed it to her.

“Here’s your receipt,” the woman said, sliding it under the pay window along with his change, “Have a tremendous day. I know I will.”

“Thanks,” Noah said, grabbing everything and stuffing it in his wallet.

“I can’t believe we had to wait in there for 2 when the ticket it’s self only took 2 and a half minutes to pay,” I scoffed as we walked out of the court house.

“I can’t believe you got 3 demerit points before you even got your full license,” Noah answered as we walked out to the parking lot.

“I cant believe it’s not butter,” I replied as we reached the Audi. Noah looked at me with a horrified expression.

“IT’S NOT!?” He exclaimed dramatically, before opening unlocking the door and hopping into the drivers seat and turning the car on as I got into the passengers seat.

“Why is it so fucking cold?” I complained, immediately turning on the heat.

“Because we live in Canada. And it’s winter. And you’re wearing a really thin coat,” Noah replied, “What’s that made out of?”

“Cotton, probably?” I guessed, “But it shouldn’t be this cold already, it hasn’t even snowed yet.”

“Well, that’s global warming for you,” Noah said as the car heated up, “You need to buy a thicker coat.”

“Well, not all of us can afford North Face,” I replied, referring to the brand of coat that usually sold for upwards of $100.

“Actually, it’s Canada Goose,” Noah said, patting the fur on his hood.

“I can’t afford that, either,” I answered sadly, since C.G coats sold for between $500 and $1000 each, “Thank you for paying for the ticket, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” He said, putting the car in drive and slowly pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” I promised as he rolled down his window.

“You don’t gotta pay me nothin’,” He answered, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with one hand while he steered the car with the other.

“That was a double negative. You technically just said that I do have to pay you back something,” I informed him.

“Okay, just for that, I want my money back,” He answered as we pulled out of the parking lot.

“No problem,” I said, rolling down my window to avoid inhaling his cigarette smoke, “Tom’s gonna throw me some cash today.”

“Since when does Tom give you a dime?” Noah chuckled. It was valid question.

“Since he needs my help with some work around the building,” I explained.

“Like what?” Noah asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“Random shit,” I shrugged, “Removing graffiti, changing locks, installing cameras in the basement…”

Before I had finished my sentence, Noah suddenly made a choking noise and began having a coughing fit.  

“Are you okay?” I asked, perplexed, as he attempted to catch his breath. He cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah…sorry,” He reassured me.

“Did you just choke on smoke?” I asked with my eye brow raised.

“Lil bit,” He said, ashing his cigarette out the window.

“You need to quit smoking,” I sighed as we rolled down the street.

“I need to do a lot of things,” Noah said, puffing on his cigarette once more, “So. Cameras. In the basement. Where, in the basement, exactly?”

“Laundry room, boiler room, furnace room,” I answered casually, “We’re gonna put a few upstairs, too.”

“Any particular reason?” Noah inquired.

“Beats me,” I shrugged, “To make the building more safe? I don’t know. We’re gonna go pick up all the stuff when I get home and get started. Hopefully we’ll  get it all done by tonight. It shouldn’t take very long so I might be able to see you afterwards.”

“Cool, cool,” Noah nodded, throwing his cigarette butt out the window, “So are gonna be the kind of cameras with a tape in them, or is it gonna be live streamed to a computer?”

“I….I honestly don’t know…” I answered, confused by his sudden interest in what was, to me, a very uninteresting topic, “Why?”

“Just curious,” Noah replied as he put the nail of his thumb between his teeth, biting on it as he drove the car with his right hand, “So, do you think the new locks will be mechanical?”

“I have no idea,” I answered, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he shrugged, still biting his nail.

The mood in the car from there on out shifted from our usual lighthearted banter, to me making chit chat while Noah gave short, uninvolved answered.

“Are you okay?” I asked as we pulled up in front of the apartment.

“Yep,” Noah nodded.

“All right…” I answered, pulling off my seat belt, “Are you coming inside?”

“Nah, I gotta go, uh…” His sentence trailed off. He apparently hadn’t planned what he was going to say next.

“I gotta go,” he concluded.

“Are you mad at me?” I asked, concerned.

“No!” He gasped, “No, no, baby. Not at all.”

“Are you sure?” I pressed.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he assured me, leaning over to give me a quick kiss, “Have a good day, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, opening the car door, “I’ll text you later.”

“Kay,” He said as I closed the door. His car immediately screeched down the street, leaving me standing on the sidewalk, coughing in the exhaust fumes.



A little later on that day, my family sat in the van as we drove to the outdoor strip mall. Tammy and my mom really didn’t need to come, but they tagged along for the car ride, with Tammy insisting that we play Let it go on a continuous loop.

“Mom…dad…” I said somberly as we drove, “I need to tell you something. It’s been bothering me for a while.”

My mom locked eyes with me in the rear view mirror and then turned to face me.

“What is it, pumpkin?” She asked sweetly.

“You need to promise not to get mad,” I requested.

“Travis, of course we wont get mad! You can tell us anything!” She said sincerely.

“I’m not promising that,” Tom added.

“Okay, here it goes…” I said, taking a deep breath before confessing, “If you make me listen to the Frozen soundtrack one more time, I’m gonna go to the top of our building and jump off of it.”

Tammy giggled and my mom reached into the back seat to smack me on the knee.

“Travis, that’s not funny!” She scolded.

“I’m not trying to be funny!” I replied, “I’m serious, if I have to hear to listen to this Disney garbage for another second, I’M gonna Let it go. And by it I mean My Will To Live.”

“We’ll let you choose the music on the way home, okay?” My mom promised.

“Just don’t play anything with blasphemy,” Tom warned.

“Or cursing,” my mom added.

“Or shouting,” Tom continued.

“Or anything about S-E-X,” My mother spelled out.

“But that’s like 90% of my playlist,” I pouted as we pulled up in front of the Home Depot and Tammy excitedly hopped out.

“Toy store! Toy store!” She squealed, racing the Toys R Us.

“Slow down!” My mother gasped, running after her and grabbing her hand.

“Toy store!” Tammy squealed, dragging my mom towards it.

“We can look, but we can’t buy, okay?” My mom informed her.

“Toy store,” Tammy smiled looking up at her. My mom rolled her eyes and looked back at Tom.

“We’ll meet you back at the car,” she said to him as Tammy dragged her towards the store.

“Come on Travis,” Tom said, turning the engine off and getting out of the van.

“Do I have to?” I sighed.

“Would you rather go look at toys?”He glared at me. I rolled my eyes and got out of the van.

“I’d rather punch you in the throat,” I mumbled under my breath as we walked towards the store.

“What was that?” He scowled as we reached the door.

“I said I’d rather be on a boat,” I answered.

“Oh….me too,” he agreed as we walked inside. We browsed around the section of locks and latches, examining the prices.

“These are so expensive!” I exclaimed, “Why are you wasting money on this stuff when I’ve been wearing the same pair of shoes for two years?”

“I’m not paying for it, the owner of the building is,” Tom said, fiddling with the knobs, “And besides, there’s nothing wrong with your shoes.”

“There’s a hole on one of them!” I said, lifting it up so he could see.

“Completely un-noticeable,” he said, pushing my foot down, “If you need a new pair that badly, use the money I’m paying you.”

“Why does the furnace room need cameras and locks anyways? No one else goes down there besides you,” I said, wandering down the aisle.

“Wrong as usual, Travis. SOMEONE has been going in there to burn their garbage,” he said, examining his options, “You should smell it down there, it reeks of burnt plastic and filth. Whoever it was must have stolen a key from the old maintance guy and copied it,  so I need to change the locks to keep them out.”

“Who would want to burn their garbage?” I asked.

“A cheap jerk who doesn’t want to pay for the trash pick up,” Tom answered.

“A cheap jerk? I’d hate to live with one of those,”  I scoffed.

“You’re pushing it,” Tom glared, pointing his finger in my face, before turning around and picking up a knob with a key hole, “What do you think of this one?”

“That’s a nice knob. A great knob. The best knob I’ve ever seen,” I said, giving him a thumbs up, “Does the key come with it or do you have to pay extra for that?”

“Sarcasm is such an unattractive quality, Travis,” Tom said, walking down the aisle.

“I disagree. I’d say it’s my best quality,” I answered, following behind him.

“And you wonder why you don’t have a girlfriend,” he shook his head.

“No, actually, I don’t wonder that at all,” I smirked.

We walked around the store, picking up new locks and bolts and a few security cameras.

“I should put one of these in your room so I can catch you when you’re doing something bad,” he said, referring to the cameras, as we walked towards the check out counter.

“Tom, if you want videos of me changing, just asked,” I offered. He stared at me with a mixture of shock and digust.

“You know, if I said that to my father when I was your age, he’d kick my teeth in,” He warned.

“Well, things were different back in the 1930’s,” I smiled smugly.

“Would it kill you to have a serious conversation?” He asked as he placed his items on the conveyer belt.

“It might,” I answered, “Is that risk you want to take?”

“I can’t believe you were the fastest sperm,” He sighed as the cashier rung up his purchases.  After paying, and making sure to get the receipts so the owner of the building could reimburse him for them, we made our way back to the car where Tammy and my mom were waiting.

We arrived back at the apartment and began the tedious task of setting up removing graffiti, setting up cameras and changing locks. I had no experience with it, but I learned pretty quickly and it definitely wasn’t brain science or rocket surgery. We started on the higher floors and worked our way down, eventually ending up down in the furnace room.

“I’m gonna warn you,” Tom said as we walked down stairs, “It smells really bad in here.”

“I can take it,” I replied.

Spoiler Alert: I could NOT take it. No amount of foresight could have prepared me for the stench held in that room. The closest thing I could compare it to was when there was a dead cat left in the attic of my grandmas house for an entire summer before someone found it. The smell of that cats corpse, times five, still didn’t equal the heinousness that was filling my nose.

“Oh my gosh,” I gagged, putting my hands over my nose and mouth.

“I told you, it’s not pleasant,” Tom sighed, pulling his shirt over the lower half of his face, “Just breath through your mouth and you’ll be fine.”

I tried to speak but inhaling through either orifice made the bile rise in my stomach.

“Dude, I can’t,” I managed to choke out, backing out of the room.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic!” Tom said, grabbing my arm and pulling me back in, “Now, grab that ladder and hold it for me.”

I pulled my shirt over my face and tried to do what he asked, but I couldn’t take it and began to retch.

“Travis! Man up!” Tom glared as I tried to surprise my gag reflex, but it was of no use. I put my hand over my mouth and bolted back up the stairs as fast as I could, racing towards the garbage can in the lobby and emptying the contents of my stomach into it, much to the horror of the elderly woman who was standing there waiting for the elevator. Tom made his way up the stairs, begrudgingly walked up beside me as he scolded,

“Stop being a pussy.”

Mean while in Belleville, a city one hour away, Noah was dealing with his own stomach turning obligation. He sat inside his white Audi outside the gold colored gates of a large, beautiful, four story home, biting his nails as he psyched himself up. He pulled up to the security access voice box, rolling his window down and pressing the buzzer.

“Alo?” A female voice from inside asked with a heavy Spanish accent.

“Alo. Sin Amor,” Nohah replied. The security box buzzed and the golden gates opened, with Noah driving his car through and the gates close behind him. He parked his car in large plot of pavement front of a well kept garden. He turned off the engine and exited the car, dropping his keys. He picked it up with a shaking hand and stuffed it in his pocket. He took a deep breath and tried to shake the anxiety off.

“Stop being a pussy,” he cursed to himself as he approached the house. Before he could knock on the door, it swung open, with a young Spanish woman in a form fitting grey power suit standing before him.

[All conversations from here on out occur in Spanish]

“Good day,” she smiled, braces covering her teeth,  although she was much too hold to have them, “He knows you’re coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Noah responded, entering the house with her closing the door behind them.

“Coat?” She said, removing his jacket for him and hanging it up with a cornucopia of others on golden hooks on the wall.

“Drink?” She offered as they made their way through the long hallway.

“No. Thank you,” Noah declined. As they walked through the corridor, they passed several rooms, one where the door was slightly ajar, revealing several women wearing dust masks as they sat at a table, chopping up white powder and weighing it before scooping it into small plastic bags, and another room with a group of men listening to Flamenco music while they filed the serial numbers off of guns.

They reached a door at the end of the hallway and the young woman opened it for Noah, revealing a stair case leading down to a rec room. They descended the stairs of Spanish rap music and talking can be heard and entered a room where a thick layer of smoke hung in the air and menacing looking men were scattered all. A few of them sat on a couch in front of  a table covered in liquor bottles, a mirror with lines of powder sorted out on it and two Glock thirties, as they watched a soccer game that couldn’t even be heard over the sound of the tunes. A pool table in the on the other side of the room with fat stacks of cash in each corner had a few men hovered around it , while a another handful of men lingered at the bar where a woman dressed in next to nothing poured them drinks.

Everyone in the room shared two similarities; all were of Spanish decent and each were branded with a tattoo of a crown that had the letters S.K inscribed in it. Some, like Noah, had It placed amidst a collage of their other tattoos where it didn’t stand out significantly, while others chose more bold placement, like on their throats or on the back of their shaved heads. One of these individuals, a darkly tanned, heavy set man in a white suit,  sat on a stool, laughing as his crown tattoo on the back of his skull glimmered under the bar lights.

“Fernando,” The braced woman says, walking up behind him. He turns around, grinning, displaying a row of gold teeth at the top of his mouth.

“Lovess!” He said enthusiastically, throwing his hands up and getting up from his stool, “Welcome! What do you want to drink?”

“I can’t drink right now, I’m driving. But thank you,” Noah declined.”

“Non-sense!” Fernando says, turning around to the woman at the bar, “Jack on the rocks.”

She promptly served the drink, which was then handed to Noah.

“Thank you,” Noah said, taking it, with no intention of drinking it, “Do you have a minute to talk?”

“For you? I have all the time in the world,” Fernando beamed, patting the empty stool next to him, “Sit! Drink! Talk!”

“More privately?” Noah said delicately. Fernando furrowed his thick, black brows and cocked his head to the side.

“What could you have to say to me that you can’t say in front of your brothers?” He asked, gesturing to the men behind him.

“We have…a bit of a problem,” Noah confessed. Fernando sighed and downed what was left of his drink, standing up and walking over to the table covered in liquor bottles. The men seated at it immediately stopped talking when he approached.

“Go,” he barked, instructing them to relocate to the bar, which they did without argument. Noah placed his drink on the table as Fernando grabbed the remote controlling the stereo, the speakers of which were located by the bar and turned the music up to give himself and Noah enough background noise to talk amongst themselves.

“So, here’s the thing…” Noah began.

“Hold on,” the man interrupted, retrieving a $100 bill from his pocket and rolling it up into a straw like shape, “I need to do this if I’m going to hear bad news.”

 He placed it against his nostril and leaned over the table, loudly snorting one of the lines before sitting up and inhaling sharply. He picked up the mirror and held it in front of Noah.

“Take one,” he said, handing Noah the bill.

“No thank you,” Noah declined.

“It wasn’t a question,” Fernando replied sternly. Noah reluctantly took the bill from Fernando, leaned over the mirror and indulged in the smallest line available.

“Good, huh?” Fernando bragged.

“Yeah, you can really taste the gasoline,” He sniffed, handing Fernando back the bill.

“So,” Fernando said, dipping his finger into the powder, “What’s your problem?”

Noah took a deep breath and mustered the courage to speak.

“I can’t do disposal any more,” He uttered regretfully.

“Hmmmm….why do you think that?” Fernando asked, rubbing the powder on his lower gums, which instead of gold, held severely decayed teeth.

“It’s not a thought, it’s a fact,” Noah explained, “My  location isn’t going to be available to me any more.”

“So find a new location,” Fernando shrugged, as if it were the most obvious and simple solution.

“It’s not that easy,” Noah insisted, “This was the only guaranteed method I had. If I try any other way,  I’ll get caught. I know I will.”

“How do you know? Are you a fortune teller?” Fernando chuckled.

“No, but it’s too risky to try and find another place,” Noah pressed on, “It just isn’t an option for me anymore. I’m sorry.”

Fernando squinted his eyes suspiciously and leaned back on the couch, still holding the mirror.

“Loveless,” he breathed, “You don’t get to tell me No. This is your job.”

“I understand that. But it’s not an option for me anymore,” Noah repeated, “Look, I’ll do any other job you need me to do for you. Anything. Just not this.”

“I don’t want you to do another job. I want you to do THIS job,” Fernando continued.

“It’s not like I’m a one man gang, you have a lot of other people working for you. You just need to get someone else to do it,” Noah replied, then immediately wished he wouldn’t have as his bosses face twisted up in discontent.

“Excuse me?” Fernando glared at him, “Am I hallucinating or…did you just tell me…what I need to do?”

“I didn’t mean it like that-“ Noah tried to defend, but he was interrupted.

“Do you think it’s your job to tell me what I need to do?  Is that how this works?” Fernando says, angrily placing the mirror back on the table, spilling some of it’s contents.

“I wasn’t, I just…” Noah tried to protest.

“Are you in charge here?” Fernando interrupted again.

“No,” Noah relented.

“No? Well then, you don’t get to tell me do SHIT, do you?” Fernando growled, causing the people at the bar to glance over at the commotion.

“No,” Noah said, gazing down at the floor, trying to think of a way to explain himself that wouldn’t end badly, “But i know that-”

“YOU KNOW?!” Fernando exploded standing up, “You know? You know, what? Everything?”

“No, I-” Noah tried to back peddle.

“Well come on, let’s hear it!” Fernando encouraged, “Tell me what you know in your infinite 22 year old wisdom! Teach me!  Because you know better than me, right?”

“Fernando, I didn’t say that…” Noah tried to explain.

“You didn’t? Because that’s what I heard. But what do I know? I’m not you,” Fernando continued, leaning over the table and grabbing both of the Glock 30 guns, holding one in each hand as he stands above Noah.

“Hey, hold on…” Noah said, putting one of his hands up defensively.

“Oh, don’t get shy now…” Fernando said as he stood in front of Noah and pointed both of the guns at his face, “Let’s see how smart you really are. Answer me this. Which one is loaded?”

 Noah gulped as he and everyone else in the room looked at Fernando, terrified.

“I don’t know,” He answered with as much confidence as someone on the verge of a heart attack could.

“Sure you do!” Fernando goated, “Pick one!”

Noah looked at the left gun, then at the right.

“I don’t know,” He repeated.

“If you say I don’t know one more time, I’ll fire two warning shots at your face,” Fernando cautioned, before asking again, “Which one is loaded?”

Noah blinked rapidly as he locked back and forth between the guns before answering.

“Both,” He said finally. Fernando raises his eye brows and nods, lowering his left arm and pressing the barrel of the gun in his right hand against Noah’s forehead.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” He said pressing his finger against the trigger as Noah squeezed his eyes shut.

Click.

Noah breathed a sigh of relief as Fernando examined the empty gun.

“Looks like you don’t know everything after all, huh?” Fernando gloated, placing the empty gun on the table.

“No sir,” Noah replied, keeping his cool the best he could. Fernando switched the remaining gun into his right hand and pointed it at Noah once more.

“But I do,” He smirked.Noah tensed up and shut his eyes again, his heart beating rapidly as Fernando pressed the gun up against his temple.

Click.

Noah exhaled and opened his eyes, breathing asthmatically as Fernando laughed hysterically, pressing the gun against his own temple, clicking the trigger repeatedly.

“Neither of them are loaded, you stupid fuck!” He cackled, “You think I just leave loaded guns laying around?!”

He laughed a hearty belly laughed, with the others in the room joining in, primarily out of fear/nervousness.

“I should have filmed that, your face was priceless!” Fernando continued to chuckle, with the gun still clutched in his hand, “But you didn’t cry! And you didn’t beg. That’s very good, I admire that.”

 “Th-thank you,” Noah studdered, his voice cracking slightly.

“Hey, hey, you don’t have to thank me!” Fernando  grinned, turning the gun around so that he was holding the barrel instead of the handle, “But, you know what you do have to do?”

Without warning, he smashed the gun against Noah’s face, connecting perfectly with his mouth.

 “YOUR. FUCKING. JOB!” He shouted, pistol whipping Noah in the jaw with each word, “I don’t want to hear any of this I can’t, I won’t, I know shit come from your mouth EVER again! I’m the boss! I tell you what to do, I pay you and you shut the fuck up and do it! Got it?!”

Noah holds his hand over his mouth and nods. Unsatisfied with this response, Fernando switches the gun to his left hand and cracks it against Noah’s temple, causing him to yelp out in pain and spill the blood he was holding in his mouth down his chin and neck.

“SPEAK!” Fernando demanded as Noah held his hand under his chin, catching the blood that dribbled out.

“Yes!” He slurred.

“Are we gonna have to have this conversation again?” Fernando asked, holding the gun up, prepared to swing it again.

“No,” Noah promised, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Good,” Fernando smiled, placing he gun back on the table and walking back over to the bar, sitting down on his stool.

“Get him a rag, show him to the door and don’t let him get blood on anything,” He instructed to the braced woman in the suit, who had been watching the entire situation unfold. She promptly grabbed a bar rag and ran over to Noah, dabbing his face with it gently.

“I’ve got it,” He said, snatching the rag from her and fingering his teeth to make sure they were all still there. He pressed the rag against his face and walked towards the stairs, with the woman following behind him.

“Thanks for stopping by! I’ll call you in the morning!” Fernando waved cheerfully. Noah nodded back, making his way up the stairs as his jaw throbbed. The braced woman led him to the door and helped him put his coat on, bidding him farewell and closing the door behind him.

He walked out to his car and hopped in, wiping his face once more before grabbing the rear view mirror and adjusting it so he could check out the damage. The right side of his face was swollen and bruised and his teeth were stained with blood.

“Mother fucker,” he cursed, spitting  into the rag. If he hadn’t snorted that line, it probably would have hurt a lot more than it did.

Now, had this been a traditional fight, Noah Loveless and Fernando Urquidez would have been equally matched, but it was a well known fact that laying a hand on Fernando in would result in an immediate execution, either by the Alpha himself or by one of his loyal followers in the Spanish Kings. Many people had suffered a pre-mature death due to insubordinance, along with snitches, witnesses, members of rival gangs and anyone else who got in the way.

All of them were collateral damage, martyrs for a greater cause, and Noah’s responsibility to get rid of.