Marginal Love (Book 4 LS Series)

Chapter 3

Michael's POV

Watching from afar, I wait for him to enter the bar.

I don't really know too much about Slash, but one thing's for fucking sure-- he likes to keep to himself. Why else would a grown fucking man go out drinking on his own?

Actually, I know two things. He keeps to himself, and there's something in him Skipper loves. The latter of which I've gotta squash as soon as possible.

When the "spark" between them first appeared, I took a whole fucking lot of time trying to figure out what was so special about him, something beyond all that damn hair and the guitar skills. I honestly still don't like the way he treats her- he's gotta assert some kind of authority, and he never does.

I sigh and trudge after him into the poorly lit bar. I wonder why he chose to travel all the way down here for this fucking dump, it's the same as any other trashy joint in the city. I stand by the cigarette smoke clouded door and watch Slash take a seat, ordering a glass of Jack.

I just watch him for a while, trying to figure out why he'd come here. He's not really looking at or for anyone, just leisurely downing his glass of whiskey and smoking a Marlboro.

When I'm fed up with this shit fest, I walk up and sit on the bar stool right beside him. He looks at me for a second and hardly moves.

I stare at him hard. "What are you doing here?"

He takes a sip of his drink and pushes it forward so the bartender can refill it.

"What the fuck do you mean? You just sat next to me. I'm having a drink and minding my business."

I roll my eyes and shake my head, irritated. "No, you fucktard. I meant what the hell are you still doing in New York? Last time I checked, you live in a place called California. Rose is dead and gone. I'd think there's nothing left for you here."

He looks at me hard through a curtain of curly hair. His eyes are solid and dark.

"Why do you care?"

I ask the bartender for a vodka soda.

"It seems to me that all your loose ends are tied. Skip... she's been barricaded in the hospital for three days straight. She isn't seeing anyone, if you're not counting the stream of brain tumors."

I look at him sideways to guage his reaction at the mention of her. Much to my annoyance, he does nothing but puff his cigarette.

A few seconds go by. "Why this bar?"

At first his shoulders tense, and he seems defensive. His eyes drift to a corner booth, past the drunken blonde dancing to Van Halen by the jukebox and all the drunken losers watching her. The booth is empty, but it seems he's very focused on something.

"I... I met her here."

A sinister grin overcomes me. "Skip?"

He frowns a little. "Yeah. She... she was just too perfect looking, and at first I resented her for it. Figured someone like her had to have some negative feature." He takes a long drink of whiskey. "I was wrong."

My hand tenses around my vodka glass. I have him now. "Oh, yeah?"

"She's... she's just so..." for a second he looks lost, and a whisper of a smile begins to appear. Quick as a flash it's gone, and he's staring into his empty glass. "But that's in the past."

My grin grows even wider. "You don't love her anymore?"

Wow, this was easier than I thought. I had to make sure that no one was in the way of me and Skipper's reunion, and Slash was the only real obstacle. The other losers in Rose's band were far beneath her, and no one else matters. Now all that's standing between us is her inability to see the inevitable.