Noir

Noir extras: that time harry fucked up.

Noir Extras, extension of chapter five.

•••

Alarms blared and sirens screeched, all screaming at him to shut it down. To abort the mission.

But the combination of a mean hard-on, tequila, and a broken, illogical heart drowned out the rest. He'd been downstairs with everyone else five minutes ago. But she was good at the game, touched him in the ways he wanted to be touched... she'd reduced Harry to putty in her manicured hands.

•••

Five minutes prior...

•••

He should have stopped after the first shot, but well, he liked even numbers. He'd have never gone for the third if someone hadn't offered it, knowing he was too polite to refuse. Not his brightest move, taking that fourth one – this was L.A. after all, who the hell knew what was in the shot glass – but 'fuck it' was the mood. Fully aware he'd never find the solutions to his problems at the bottom of a bottle, he searched anyway, desperate for answers.

Desperate for the right things to say. The seaside mansion was massive, yet so packed with people, he couldn't get a moment alone, no matter where he went. The real action started in the living room and spilled out onto the outside deck. The kitchen, thankfully, was mostly empty aside from a couple making out against the side of the refrigerator, and the gaggle of girls sniffing little lines from the table at the breakfast nook.

Harry spared a glance, watched as they laughed and passed around tightly-rolled dollar bills. He wasn't one to judge, but he'd tried it all but decided it wasn't for him, really. Fun while it'd lasted, but ultimately something he tried to avoid. Detouring into the empty hallway leading into the rear wing of the house, he put his back to the wall, tightly gripping his phone in the hand that hung at his side.

Maddox's contact card was still on the screen. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, focused on letting the bass thumping through the floors make him feel something. It infuriated him, missing her the way he did, though it'd only been two days since he'd last seen her and they'd been shouting at one another, to boot.

"Stupid. It's fucking stupid," Harry muttered, glancing at the phone again, clearing the screen, locking it with finality.

Or at least what he thought was finality. He'd just as quickly unlocked it and started to call when a shadow fell over him, blocking out the kitchen's light. Somehow, he wasn't exactly surprised to see Desiree slink into the hallway, her ever-present slick, collagen-enhanced grin intact. She crossed her arms as she stood in front of him, crossing one bare leg over the other as she leaned against the opposite wall.

"Are you lost?"

"I was, but I found what I was looking for," she nodded, grin widening. Somehow, her presence didn't annoy him as much as usual. Besides, the skin-tight bandage dress wrapped around her fit frame did wonders, not to mention the high heels that made her legs a mile long.

•••

He couldn't clearly remember what they'd talked about in that hallway, which should have been the first warning that perhaps, this impulse shouldn't have gone so far. But it was as good as done. She'd yanked him into one of the bathrooms and locked the door. The party raged on, muffled music rattling the windows and vibrating the floors.

It was fancy as hell, as far as bathrooms went. Golden fixtures on the double sinks, iron clawfoot tub, and free standing glass shower. There were navy walls, luxury window drapes, and candles on every available, shining, marble surface. It might have been romantic, otherwise.