Severed [GB + SB]

Twenty-Two: Naughty, Naughty

SATURDAY. Night. So close...

I walked into a club for the first time ever, surrounded by an honor guard of hotness: two towering, sun-kissed blonde twins and a slightly menacing brunette with startling eyes. No wonder people were staring.

A path seemed to magically clear for us, and we went to the bar straight away to get drinks, and I pretended like I didn't hear that my sparkling water with a chunk of lime was ten dollars, and their beer was $12 to $15 a bottle. I used to sell all those beers in the grocery store, and yeah, they were pretty expensive at $8... for a six pack.

"Why are you looking so grumpy?" Marc shouted in my ear, the normal sparkle in his eye muted by concern. "What happened?"

"I could buy two six packs of that beer at my old store for the amount you just paid for one bottle," I groused, glaring at the bottle in question. "If I could legally buy beer. Or wanted to drink something that tastes like bitter socks."

He grinned, the sparkle flaring up again, and I was floored once more by just how odd and fascinating his bicolor eyes were. "Drinks are pricey, sure, but you're a beautiful woman. You'll probably never have to buy a drink in a bar or club ever in your life, so what does it matter? Let us poor saps spend our hard earned bucks trying to impress you."

"That's just it... overspending on unnecessary things doesn't impress me. It's all smoke and mirrors, trying to prove you're a better candidate for mating by showing you're a good earner with disposable income, but all it proves to me is that you're gullible and susceptible to caring too much about image over substance. I mean, not you personally, but those who spend a lot of time in places like this. Or maybe it's something I'll understand better when I'm older or if I ever don't have the equivalent of a regulation rugby team on my field, if you know what I mean and I think you do."

He glared at me. "Rugby fields fifteen players per team. Who's your fifteenth, Sang?"

I scoffed at him, but could feel my face heating up. "What? It didn't mean anything, just the first sport I could think of with a ton of players... that's crazy..." I trailed off staring at my drink like it was imparting pearls of great wisdom upon me.

"He's almost twice your age, you know," Marc's scowl deepened. "And he has a kid."

"I'm sure I don't know who you're talking about," I said stiffly, watching the crowd on the dance floor. Egg was in his thirties? With a kid?! Pfft. Whatever. That doesn't matter, I wasn't thinking about him at all. No sir. He was just a really sweet guy, a really hot, sweet guy with a Russian accent, and I was horny as fuck...

"What's going on?" Corey's timing was impeccable, the perfect distraction—

"Coffee Bean has a crush on Egg," Marc stated flatly.

"Hey, you of all people should appreciate that I'm attracted to men with a bit of a disreputable edge," I argued, and Marc got the strangest look on his face.

"What makes you say that?"

"Huh? Nothing bad, I just mean that you've got that bad boy thing going on—"

"Who told you?" he interrupted, curiosity tinged with anger.

"Told me what?" I was utterly confused.

"About the gang," he said flatly.

"You were in a gang?" I couldn't help the excitement that leaked out around the edges, and Marc's expression both mellowed out and got weirder.

"If you didn't know, then what did you mean?"

"Just that— you've got a lot of life-rage, Marc, and sometimes you're like a domesticated cat who could go back to feral the second the food runs out. I just— I admire your restraint, because I sense you need it, you know?"