Sang's Freedom (Original And Rewritten)

Chapter 98: Let's Get A Beer

-Chapter 98-

Matthew Eli's POV:

For the record. I fucking hate Applebee's. I hate their ugly decorations and their fucking stain-glass lights above the tables. I especially hate their salads. That's right. I. Hate. Their. Salads.

Brandon and I sat in the back party room because if you didn't know, it's my god damn birthday. September 16th. Brandon took the liberty of reminding me then proceeded to boop my nose. I vowed then that I would kill him.

I just needed to keep my cool until I managed to get Sang back.

I kept my arms folded atop the table as the server brought out our drinks. "Vodka on the rocks, for you." She placed the much-too-small glass in front of me. "And a strawberry margarita for you." The server left after Brandon explained we were waiting on one more.

"That's a girly drink, Brandon."

The man corked a brow. "Are you always this much of a dick or is today a--"

"Don't."

"--special occasion? Get it? Because it's your birthday."

"I hate you."

"Wait until you see Turner. He got you a gift." Brandon smiled wolfishly, green eyes glinting with mischief; a strange look to see on a man whose tattooed arms could pass for trees.

"The only gift I want is for you two to disappear. I have a mission right now and your compromising it."

"You compromised it yourself, friend." Brandon's face turned serious. "You're lucky Turner and I look out for you, otherwise you'd already be dead. I would already have run you down with my car and collected the $40,000 bounty on your head. The only reason we don't hand over the girl is out of respect for you."

"$40,000? I'm worth more than that..." Back in Guam and some smaller islands supporting the worldwide drug cartel--Islands in which I am no longer welcome on--my bounty was set at 50 million dead, 100 million alive. Someone would pay 100 million dollars, for me.

"$40,000 dead, Mattie. I'd get $100,000 if I handed you over alive. Another $100,000 for the girl."

"Thats so...insulting." I sat back in my seat and took down my drink in two gulps. "I used to not take jobs for anything less than half a million."

"I've never asked...what did you do with all that money?"

I shrugged. "What any seventeen year old would do. I bought fast cars. Traveled. Bought guns. Killed more people. Bought more cars. You know, now that you mention it...I think I have a jet somewhere." I thought hard. "I do. Where the hell is my jet?" I stood up, but the look that Brandon gave me made me sit again.

"How could you forget you bought a plane?"

"It's a jet. And I don't know. I was drunk. A lot. Like, you should have probably cut me off."

"Should I cut you off now?" Brandon asked, worry appearing in his stupid eyes as the waitress brought us another round of drinks.

"No."

"You lost a plane."

"My family was killed. Give me a fucking break."

"It's been seven years. You've had your revenge. You can't just spend your life alone losing planes and killing people."

"It was a jet," I said stiffly. "And it has been seven years. You and Turner can't come around whenever you want anymore. We're not friends."