Grey Gods

Chapter Four - Grey Eyed Girl

Angel:

Another successful run.

My brothers cruise behind me, down the long stretch of road. The sun blazes at our backs and the warm wind refreshes my mind. I'm eager to get back to my place and do what seems to be my new ritual since getting out. Wind the fuck down and get super fucked up.

We all deserve it, seeing as we just made over two hundred grand.

I open all four garage doors and park my bike inside, immediately snatching three Coronas from the fridge and grabbing my hat. The boys pull out the couch for me so I can count my money. Maybe I'll have some girls over later. Get so drunk I forget that my best friend killed himself. Wishful thinking...

My guys scatter around and do their thing. They clean their bikes, play pool, get high and watch soccer. I'm so glad to be back in a world where I have control. I missed my family and my brothers, but man, I missed being in control.

Nothing disturbed my world up here. As long as I lay low, I shouldn't have to worry about anything or anyone.

Except maybe Ramirez, my youngest cousin. We used to not get along at all. We still don't see eye to eye, but we give each other respect now, which is coming a long way from where we started. We're too similar, that's the problem, but I trust him. I keep him close – you know the saying.

My cousin Diego and I pull a table out and set it in front of the couch, just far back enough to be out of the sun, but still on the driveway. He sits beside me with a beer. Ramirez pulls up a chair and syncs his phone to his Bluetooth.

Music beats from the speakers mounted inside the garage, nice and loud. I have a separate set for the backyard that's even sicker.

I dump my money onto the table and flip my hat backwards, counting and separating the stacks one by one while Diego cleans the guns and Ramirez rolls up. Normal, seven in the afternoon shit on a sábado noche.

I crack open another beer and focus on the money, half-listening to my cousins talk. A buzz greets me, kneading against my skull and loosening the tension in my body. I light a blunt Ramirez hands me and thank him.

"De nada."

"You should invite those girls over from that party Saint threw a few days ago," Diego smirks, showing off his gold teeth. He lights his blunt and exhales a cloud of smoke. "Esas chicas estaban calientes."

Those girls were hot, but I barely remember their faces. Everyone is the same. Alexa used to be the only girl that could keep my interest for longer than a night, but that perra is toxic. We were on and off for so long...I can't go down that road again.

When my best friend died, I just...broke inside. I assaulted a couple guys I thought were flirting with her, but in retrospect, I think she was just trying to make me jealous, knowing how easy it is to enrage me. After that, I got pulled over for a DUI, but what sent me to prison was the seven duffel bags of guns in my back seat.

Now's a good time to mention I don't solely deal drugs.

I'm not a good person. Some mistakes are so devastating, you can never fall back from them, but I'm trying. And by trying, I mean drinking my demons and smoking my sorrows and fucking these fake ass girls that don't know the real me, which is buried underneath the crushing weight of all my regrets, trying to feel something good again.

I'm on my third beer now. The weed is some good shit. It fuses nicely with the beer in my stomach and sends my buzz to a whole new level.

I don't notice how quiet it had gotten – only Diego elbowing me in the fucking ribs. I'm concentrating on the money – on keeping the number in my head – but the fucker keeps elbowing me until I finally stop and look up from the table.

I'm about to cuss him out, when some white girl I've never seen before comes walking up my driveway.

What the hell?

Her presence sends a jolt of alarm through my rattled brain, but I wait and analyze her, hitting my blunt. She has no right to be here, but when I open my mouth to scold her, my words dry up in my throat.

She walks confidently in black heels, like a runway model without all the goddamn sass. Her black skirt showed off long legs and toned calves, and her white blouse is rolled at the elbows with a few buttons undone, revealing just enough skin to make me forget the money in my hands.

Maldito infierno, who is this girl?

Her pretty face is remarkably undisturbed, taking in the ten of us gawking at her. The only sound is Latin rap music and her heels clicking against stone, but then one of the guys behind me whistles, probably Saint, 'cause he's a fucking douche.

The girl glances in my direction. A long strand of black hair blows over her chin, and she swipes it back, her eyes landing on mine like a meteor striking the earth.

The world recedes into black smoke, the passing of time meaningless and sucked clean, until there's just her walking past me, and me not being able to look away.

First of all, I've never seen a woman with eyes like hers before. They're so artificially grey, so light in contrast to her dark hair. She looked frightening in a way that fascinated a dark need within me, made it alive and curious.

My neck swiveled to follow her, scanning every inch of her body as she passed me, aware of all my brothers across the driveway doing the same damn thing, but who could blame us? The way her raven black hair brushes the top of her tight ass...shit.

Chitters of laughter erupt behind me, snapping me out of my daze. My cousins whip towels at each other across the driveway, their hungry eyes following the white girl to where she disappears down the stairwell.

No. Fucking. Way.

"You failed to mention there's a smoking hot chica living in your basement, Angel."

"Hermano, who the hell was that?"

"I didn't know vampiras walked around in the daylight."

"Mierda, if she's a vampira, I'll gladly let her bite me!"

"She's a model, cuate. Definitely a model."

I hit my blunt and eye Ramirez. He's turned his head to where she disappeared to, not reacting much, but I've been around him long enough to catch that curious glint in his eyes when he turns back around. I wonder if the same disturbance radiates through his body like it does mine. Then again, she didn't look at him.

She looked at me.

She didn't smile at me or give me anything to decipher behind those mysterious grey eyes. I want to see them up close. I want to know her name.

I think about those eyes for the rest of the night. No matter how many beers I drink or shots I take, I'm intrigued, and no amount of alcohol dulls my obsession about the girl renting my family's basement.