Three lowers his hands.
“This is on you, though,” I warn him. “She fucks me, I fuck you... and I mean that in every sense of that word, Three. I will fuck you while fucking you, so you better keep an eye on her.”
“I will,” he says. “Don’t worry.”
I slip the gun back away, waving him off. “Get her out of my house before I change my mind and kill you both.”
“Yes, boss.”
He grabs her shoulder, pulling her away, dragging her back out of the house just like he dragged her in. Grabbing the bottle of liquor, I take a big swig before slamming it back down on the coffee table beside Scarlet.
“Well, that was something, huh?” Five asks, shoving to his feet. “We ought to go, too, make sure he’s not fucking us all up too much here.”
“Yeah, you go do that,” I say, scrubbing my hands down my face with frustration. Pussy-blind. That’s Three, without a doubt. He’s going to get himself killed over a woman. “Keep in touch.”
The guys filter out, although Seven lingers.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Seven says. “This whole thing... it’s a big risk. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“About as sure as I usually am, Seven.”
Which means not sure at all.
I’m just making shit up as I go here.
Nodding, like he’s not surprised, Seven walks out, leaving Scarlet and I alone. My head is starting to pound again, throbbing building up in my skull behind my eye, colored splotches marring my vision. Fuck. Hunching over, elbows on my knees, I lace my hands together at the back of my neck, closing my eyes as I lower my head.
The last thing I need right now is a migraine.
Right away, I feel something, a tingle along my scalp, rugged fingernails scratching as Scarlet’s fingers run through my hair, sending a chill down my spine.
I can’t help it.
I moan.
“Fuck, that feels good.”
Scarlet laughs lightly and keeps on doing what she’s doing, gently stroking my hair, the sensation damn near putting me to sleep. Voodoo, I swear... I’ll never not believe it.
The woman’s touch is witchcraft.
It’s a sin to give in, but seeing as sinning is my specialty, I let her dark magic consume me, because what do I have to lose? My head? I want to chop the fucking thing off most nights, anyway.
I’m jolted eventually, eyes snapping open, head darting up as noise echoes through the house. I look up, blurry eyes going straight to my brother as he appears in the doorway with his girlfriend. I must’ve dozed off, maybe just for a second, because the sudden movement makes me dizzy.
I lower my head again, covering my face with my hands as everything starts to spin.
“Hey, Morgan,” Leo says. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”
Scarlet’s hand grips my thigh as she turns around. “Yeah, I was a bit indisposed.”
“Good to have you back,” he says. “Is, uh... is he okay?”
“Uh, yeah... sure.”
“I can answer for myself,” I grumble. “I’m right here, you know.”
“I’m well aware,” Leo says. “Rough night?”
“Rough life,” I counter, looking up at him, grateful everything stays still. “I’ll survive.”
“I’m sure you will,” Leo says, frowning, glancing at his little firecracker, who looks extremely nervous right now for some reason.
I sit up straight. “What is it? Spit it out.”
Leo hesitates. “We found an apartment.”
“You found an apartment.”
“Yes, in Manhattan... Midtown. It’s kind of small, just one bedroom, but it’s got a great view. We put in an application. I think we’ve got a good shot.”
He stares at me, like he expects me to have more to say, but seeing as there are more than a million apartments in New York City, this isn’t exactly shocking news that they found one, is it?
Any schmuck with a few bucks could find an apartment if he wanted one.
Sighing, I stand up, snatching up the bottle of rum as I move past Scarlet, strolling out of the living room. I pause near the foyer, looking at my little brother... not so little anymore, frankly. I’ve only got about two inches on him and maybe ten pounds, but maturity wise, he surpassed me long ago, with his pretty blonde girlfriend and his bullshit job and now his inky-dinky apartment that probably overlooks Times Square.
“Congratulations,” I say, heading for the stairs.
“Seriously, bro? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say, Pretty Boy? That I hope you’re not allergic to cockroaches, because God knows with what you make you’re probably splitting the fucking rent with thousands of them.”
“Ah, yes...” Leo throws his hands up. “There it is.”
“Rats, too. And fucking bums. Good thing Firecracker has had practice with people listening to you fuck her every night, so the paper-thin walls and nosey neighbors won’t be a problem, huh?”
I start up the stairs, my footsteps heavy, hearing my brother mutter, “I knew you’d have something shitty to say about it.”
“Of course you did. Of course I would, right? Not like I’m a decent person.” I laugh dryly. “Only spent the past twenty fucking years taking care of you after your piece-of-shit parents tried to put me in the ground.”
He says something in response.
I don’t know. I’m not listening anymore.
I make my way to my bedroom, guzzling rum, and slam the bottle on the dresser before falling into the bed on my back. I stare up at the ceiling fan, watching as it goes round and round, hoping it’ll lull me to sleep, but I’m tense and wound tight.
I want to kill something.
I want to fuck someone.
I want to fuck someone after I kill something.
“He doesn’t deserve that, you know.”
Scarlet’s voice is matter-of-fact. She’s standing in the doorway. I didn’t hear her follow me, but I’m not surprised she did.
“What I’m hearing here,” I say, “is that I do deserve this.”
“That’s not what I said,” she argues, stepping into the room. “You’re only pretending to listen again.”
“I heard you, Scarlet, loud and clear.”
“You only heard what you wanted to hear, Lorenzo. You didn’t hear what I said.”
“I’m reading between the lines.”
“No, you’re twisting shit,” she says, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I hate to break this to you, and you might not like it, but the sun doesn’t rise because of you every morning. You’re not this all-powerful entity the world revolves around. Not everything has to do with you. Leo, he’s got hopes and dreams, and he deserves to be able to follow them without you pissing all over things.”
“Look, can we not do this?” I ask, throwing my arm over my face as I close my eyes, because her running her mouth is getting in the way of the ceiling fan doing what it’s supposed to do. “Let’s just skip the part where we argue over bullshit, like we actually give a fuck about each other, because I’m not in the mood for it tonight.”
“You’re an asshole,” she grumbles, lying down beside me, close enough to touch but we’re not touching. She feels miles away right now, coldness settling in that space between us.