Lark has always had a laser focus on her goals. She knows what she wants and how to get it - though sometimes she's too afraid to take the risk. Maybe Roman Oshiro - who is risk personified - is just what the nurse ordered.
W A R N I N G
Explicit se...
I stare wide-eyed at the mess in front of me. The source of the noise seemed to be at the center of... wherever we were. A large group stood in a rough circle – arms flailing, mouths howling – many of them dressed in suits. Just like the men we'd followed here. Some clutched bundles of cash, some bottles of beer or plastic cups. Within them, two huge, shirtless men sparred with bare knuckles. I find myself wondering... to the death? I physically shake the thought from my head as the fist of one man strikes the other's cheek before turning back to my friends. "What the hell is this?
"Some kind of underground fight club?" Zaya shrugs casually, but I can tell she's completely enthralled. Either by the smattering of handsome men or the sprinkle of danger. Her eyes scan the space until they land on someone. "Bingo."
I match her view and find the familiar suitcoat that led us here. Her scope is locked. Her lips curl into a pleased smirk. "Zaya, be-"
"Careful. I know. I will," she confirms. I nod.
After Zaya leaves us, I turn to Jes. "I'm going to need a drink, too."
"I think I saw a makeshift bar a little further back. It also might have been just a giant chunk of metal people are just congregating around."
I giggle, needing this little bit of humor to relax. "Either is fine with me. Let's go."
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"Gin on the rocks, please." The bartender nods at Jes. He's unkempt in his loose t-shirt splattered with water spots and messy bedhead. Strange place. The patrons are dressed to the nines, but the people in charge look like vagrants.
He slaps a plastic Solo cup in front of Jes, then turns to me. "You?"
"Can I get a merlot, please?" I probably don't need to be so formal.
The man takes an exasperated look behind the 'bar,' taking stock of the choices. "We got red."
"Oh. Yea, red is good." It's splashed into another plastic cup and shoved into my hand. "How much for both?"
"Twenty."
"Jesus," Jes scoffs quietly. "That better be merlot."
I unzip my small clutch. "I'm thinking the chances that it is are not good."
"Oh, I got this." She already has a twenty in her hand and the man takes it before I can try and protest. "It's the least I can do since... there's a really cute girl over there."
"Go," I chuckle.
"You sure? You're good?"
"Yea," I raise the cup to my lips and pause. "I'm good."
As I watch Jes slither through the crowd, I take a cautious sip. The liquid burns as I swallow and I stifle a cough. I try to blink away the tears forming in my eyes. "Definitely not merlot." The sharp liquid jabs my insides and the same persistent cough pushes its way to the surface.
