03.

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Hunter

"Bro it's so good to see you again." I inwardly roll my eyes at the guy. He definitely isn't happy to see me, but he is happy to see my green paper as much as I know. "When you called I had to quickly hit up my supplier, I haven't had these in stock for a while." I extend my hand to collect the pills from him, not really needing the story of how he got it. I drop a hundred dollar bill in his hand.

Let's just say that I'm feeling generous today.

It's like he just saw a ghost eating popcorn as his eyes almost bulge out of their socket, it's almost comical. "You should get this back in stock Oscar." I leave no chance for argument as I hop back on my motorcycle and zoom away.

My errands done, I take a short detour to my spot. It's towards the outskirts of Stocker by the border to Wilthard county. A small patch of no man's land, the big boulder stands in the middle of the green scenery. Soft bird chirps can be heard from the distance, the calming breeze and the quiet atmosphere puts me at ease.

Whereas riding gives me a burst of adrenaline, a pumping calm. This place levels me, just me alone no one else. Things might get overwhelming sometimes in situations like these as the thoughts take over my mind but overall, I need this sometimes.

I snap up the pack of cigarettes from my pocket and light one up, before taking a long drag of the smoke.

Mom had died while having my younger sibling, who also died hours later. We'd been extremely close. Not a day goes by that I don't have nightmares, think of her and what she would have thought of me right now. Would she have been proud? Or disappointed? I guess I would never know.

I take another long drag of the cigarette. I stare at the puff of smoke from my lips and just watch it disappear into the air, I might have been there for hours.

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I open the door to the bar, the jazz in the background hitting my ears. The dim lights make me take a pause in my movements so my eyes adjust to the light. People are scattered on the chairs, in singles, pairs, and multiples. The strippers do their thing on the pole and the servers do their thing on the floor.

I make my way towards the bar.

After hours at the spot, the urge to drown in some drinks and eventually a hole or two overtakes me. A feeling of astonishment hits me as I sight the figure steps ahead of me. It's the prospect. The mahogany hair a welcoming sight for sore eyes.

"Bruiser? Jeez it's good to see you man." Lou the ever present bartender calls out to me immediately. I take the seat, right next to JJ. "Goddamn brother, it came as a shock but I'm glad you're out you know?" I give him a small awkward smile, not really wanting to talk about all that.

If I'm being honest I'm hard just from seeing those lips wrapped around the cup. They could be wrapped around something else too. Infact that would be deeply appreciated.

"What can I start you with brother?"

"I'll have what he's having?" I brush my thighs softly against the prospect. But what I don't expect is the laughter that escapes his lips. Lou stares at me for a long second before proceeding with my order. "Are you gonna share what's making you laugh?" My voice gets raspy with each word. Christ I'm not a fucking teenager with raging hormones, what it this? "Or we could do that later." Okay it's been a while.

"In due time, Bruiser." He replies, a sly smile on his lips. His eyes focus on mine intently before more laughs take over his lips. I'm not even sure what that means, but I'm ready to burst at this point.

From my peripheral vision, I see Lou set the cup in front of me and without as much as a look I set it to my lips. The same way I took the sip, is the same way I spit it out. Shit all over JJ and the table. What the fuck is that?

"Seriously? This is so not the way to get me wet." The prospect whisper yells, as he fawns over his black shirt that I spat all over. This is not graceful at all, I've definitely lost my touch.

"What the fuck is in the cup Lou?" I try to get rid of the aftertaste of whatever that disgusting liquid was.

"You asked for what he was having." He explains before continuing "He's having limewater." Fuck, that was disgusting. I have to redeem myself.

"Let me clean that off. Or better yet, my mistake let me make it up to you." I whisper lowly next to his ear. My fingers brush his arms slowly, and he doesn't quite push me off. But the irritation is glaring on his face.

"You can start by paying for my drink, VP." And with that he downs the rest of that liquid cruelty in his cup and saunters his way out of the club. Damn he's sexy, all the more reason to bury myself deep in him, he knows who breached that hole.

"I just want you to know that, that was both embarrassing and hilarious at the same time." I give Lou a 'seriously?' look. No need to rub it in. "Here's your favorite, single malt scotch on ice. On the house."

With a salute, I put the liquid goodness to my mouth and savor the long lost taste reacquainting my taste buds to the liquid delicacy. It's been a long day from the penitentiary to this moment, maybe a little too much from being locked up for 23 hours of the day. But it certainly is appreciated to do what I want to do, when I want to do it.

A couple more hours at Dove's bar and slightly tipsy, I make my way out to proceed to my abode.

I get myself in the right frame of mind for the ride home before starting my Harley and zooming out of the parking space.

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The hot water cascades down my body, although I probably should be taking a cold one right now. The hot water feels like water in the desert against my skin right now, removing the knots, kinks, and soreness in my bones and muscles.

Shower all done, I dress in a black wifebeater and black basketball shorts. I back pedal to the living room where my leather cut lays on the couch. I pull out my handgun and secure it, same as my pocket knife, before pulling out the object I came for.

The pills lay in the inner pocket of the leather jacket where I had them stored earlier. They supposedly stop me from having thoughts to end it, and they help me perk up. No one has to know I'm on Lexapro. No soul at all needs to see me down, or know some of the things I think about. That's for me and my demons.

Devil's Sons M.C. (Manxman)Where stories live. Discover now