And the best place to steal food? Weddings.
This is my third wedding this week, and I’m lucky I haven’t gotten caught.
Until him.
I don’t know him.
And I’m not sure I want to.
Kyson is a mystery and one that can fuck right off. I have enough shit happening in my life—I don’t want nor need the worry of a man.
I manage to make it back to the shitty-ass motel I’m staying in and fall onto the bed. All the money I had left has gone into this place, which means I have no money for food. At the time, a place to stay seemed way more important than food.
I’m not sure I was right.
But I have this place for another few days, which gives me time to find another job. The problem is that it’s incredibly difficult to find someone to hire you when you don’t have references or a permanent address. I guess I could put this motel down, but then I leave a trace, and if he finds out where I am…
Well, let’s just say I have to sleep with a knife under my pillow, and it’s not just because of the neighborhood.
This neighborhood is not good—it’s why the nightly rates are so cheap. Next door there is a strip club, and I’ve spoken to a few girls who work there as they came out for a cigarette break. I’ve dabbled with the idea of getting a job there.
The thing is, though, I’m not built like them.
I’m small in every way possible. My tits are barely big enough to need a bra, and my height gives the impression I’m younger than I am.
I asked one of the girls one night if they were hiring.
They laughed. And that was the end of that.
But if I have to shake my ass for strangers for a roof and food, I fucking will.
And that’s a fact.
Three
Kyson
“You went,” Zuko says as he slides on his boots. My older brother and I look alike, but my twin and I looked identical growing up . Then as we grew older, we grew apart in many ways, looks included. Both of us have gone to Zuko if we need anything. Or just to talk. Zuko knows how to listen. It’s one of my favorite things about him. “Kyson,” he says, shaking his head when I don’t answer him.
“I was bored,” I reply.
“Lies,” he says, just as his girlfriend steps out of the bedroom, in only his shirt. “Avert your eyes before I pluck them out.”
I smile and focus on Zuko.
“I’m your brother,” I remind him.
“And she’s mine.”
“Hey, Kyson. Kill anyone today with your good looks?” Alaska teases, knowing full well it will make Zuko furious. She walks over and stands behind him before she wraps her arms around his neck.
“Oh, you know, it’s daily. The ladies love me.” Zuko gives me a death stare.
“Okay, well, I’m going back to bed. Toodles, lover,” she says to Zuko and offers me a wave as she turns back for the bedroom.
“Stop staring at her ass.” Zuko grunts.
“I wasn’t. Is that my shirt she’s wearing?” I point to where she left, and when Zuko raises his eyes to mine, I know I should stop. If I were anyone else, he would have used his knife on me by now.
“She said our safe word,” I tell him, bringing him back to the wedding. “During her vows,” I add.
His sour face drops, and he lifts his hand to brush his hair back before he shakes his head. “Well, fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
“Okay, well, you can take the hit tonight. It will give you something to take out all that frustrated energy on. Don’t say I never give you anything.” He stands as the door opens, and Kenzo strolls in. Kenzo, I would say, is the more reserved of us, while Zuko is the ears and reason. And I am here to fuck shit up.
Zuko has knives, which he is an expert with.
Kenzo is the best sharpshooter I have ever seen. Plus, he can track almost anyone.
And me? Well, I…
Fuck if I know.
Let’s be real—I just show up and take out the target.
“What’s wrong?” Kenzo asks.
I say nothing as I step past him, but Zuko says, “He went to her wedding.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kenzo asks.
I shrug as we walk out to make our way to the car. “You’ve been busy.” In reality, I know that’s not right, but I barely tell anyone anything. The one I talk to the most is Zuko because he knows I’m thinking of getting out.
Kenzo shakes his head. “I’ve been helping Grayson with the club. You know where I live. You could have come to me,” he grumbles.
Grayson is probably the only other person we trust, apart from Pops, who gets us the hits. But now, we don’t need Pops because our names alone are enough to attract attention. Those in our world know us, and they know us well.
Grayson runs a sex club that I’m sure Kenzo does more than help at. I’ve seen the cuts on him, so I’m sure he goes into the red room for some knife play. That place has many fantasy rooms for men, each is set up for their every need or want. And it’s incredibly popular for “underground” men, who like to keep their shit secret. Grayson is good like that, and so is his woman, who helps him run the place.
“And you know where I live. I only see you at times like this,” I add.
Kenzo stops as we get to the car.
Zuko pays us no attention as he slides in the driver’s side and shuts the door.
“Is that the issue? Me not visiting you?” Kenzo asks.
“No,” I tell him, swinging the door open and getting in.
“It sure as fuck sounds like it.”
“When was the last time you saw me?” I ask as Zuko starts the engine and pulls out onto the road.
“Two months ago.”
“Exactly.” Shaking my head, I turn to Zuko. “When was the last time I saw you?”
“Last weekend,” Zuko relays.
“So, what? You’re mad that I don’t visit?” Kenzo asks. “Grow up!” There is no doubt that the mockery in his voice is evident.
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“Sometimes, for someone so clever, you are dumb as shit,” Kenzo says. “You know where I live as well. Fuckface.”
“You never answer when anyone comes to your door,” I remind him.
Zuko grunts next to me because he knows it’s true. Kenzo hates having people in his space.
“What?” Kenzo huffs. “I don’t like to let people in, but you two are different.”
“I call bullshit,” I say, shaking my head.
“Fuck you both.”
Finished with this shit, I look out the window and see a mass of brown hair in a white dress holding a bottle of whiskey walking on the side of the street.
“Stop the car.” I hit the dash, and Zuko pulls the car to the side of the road. I open the door and get out.
“What the fuck? We have a job,” Kenzo shouts.
Glancing back into the car, I say, “You two do it. I’m out.” Before they can argue, I run across the highway to where she can barely keep herself up straight. She’s wearing the same white dress she wore at that wedding a few days ago, and she looks like a mess. Despite her size, she’s easy to spot. The woman is a damn hellcat. It took days for my balls to recover from her blow.