Their Little Beauty (MxMxM+GF)

Chapter Eighty: Dusty Disguises and Emotional Rises

Devon liked driving. It was a relaxing environment away from work or home, where he could be alone with his thoughts or hum away to some Patsy Cline. And while he usually preferred to go it solo, the passenger seat carrying nothing but his laptop bag and jacket- maybe the odd cheeky snack- it wasn't always so bad to have company every now and then.

Depending on who that company was provided by, of course.

"Turn that shite off. Christ man, what are you, a seventy-year-old cowboy?" Dusty griped from the passenger seat, a hand motioning to the car radio.

Did he just call The Miss Cline... 'Shite'?

"Get the hell out my car, you insufferable old fuck. Must have lost your sense of taste as well as your hearing in the war" Devon grumbled, not giving the old fart who was one puff of cigarettes away from the grave the gratification of seeing the irritation on his face.

See, this lack of relaxing atmosphere was exactly why he would rather have an empty seat next to him than a man whose skin looked similar to the leather upholstery.

"Oh, lighten up, lad. I'm only joking, keep listening to your old people bops. Giddyap cowboy" Dusty laughed; voice croaky with age like the relic he was.

The younger of the two men decided to just ignore his unpleasant companion for the rest of the journey by turning up the CD and casting his mind back to happier times. Yet, the attempt just made him sigh in exhaustion.

Since his and Briar's disagreement, there hadn't been too many happy times in the last couple of weeks. He was actually almost relieved to be away from the hospital so he and his kitten could have some time to think without feeling pressured into decisions that would only serve to make the other happy.

He also just needed some time alone. If only Harlow wasn't the reason for his early morning departure, then maybe Devon could have had a day of self-reflection.

"So, are you going to tell me what was so pressing that you called me this early in the damn morning? You usually leave the Harlow updates for in the evening" He asked, relinquishing his attempts at silence since the subject was indeed an... 'Important one'.

Harlow Flaxen, important? Pfft, he's as important as gum stuck to the bottom of a shit covered shoe. Still, keeping an eye on his movements is important. For Briar, and the others.

"Right. One of my boys has been following him since he reappeared from the latest smack den he was wasting away in, and we agreed it was best to clue you in on what he saw".

"Smack den? He's on drugs?" Devon's surprise was mirrored in his tone. Briar had never mentioned his ex was a drug user.

"Aye. That gobshite has been on a downward spiral the last month. Used to just move from hostel to hostel, drinking and gambling what little cash he could spare... Now?" Dusty gathered phlegm into his mouth, gobbing it out the window as though just speaking of Harlow left him with a sour, unbearable taste that urgently needed expelled.

"Sex workers, backdoor gambling with high stakes, hardcore drugs- you name it, he's either fucking it, snorting it or pissing away money on it. Man's fucking losing it, Von. My boy called me up right before I dialled you, and told me he's real concerned with Harlow's recent activities. Been up to some especially shady shit, apparently. Thought it best we go see the fucker ourselves, give you and the pretty lad a clearer picture of the situation. There's only so much detail I can get across when you're listening on the other end of a phone call ".

As an experienced driver, it was second nature for Devon to be able to keep his attention focused on the road whilst having some distractions. But he wasn't prepared for the fear that rocketed through him at this new information. His hands tightened on the wheel, muscles coiling in apprehension of what this change in Harlow could mean- for Briar, and their other lovers.