While I walk over, her eyes are cast down, and the almost empty bottle of cheap as fuck whiskey sways precariously in her hand as she walks—or tries to walk. She grumbles something unintelligible and keeps on going. I sidestep and block her path again.
“Fucking hell, mister. Move,” she slurs.
I want to chuckle at her words. They’re so funny coming from something that looks so sweet she couldn’t hurt a fly.
“Such nasty words for such a small bird,” I tell her, and her head whips up, and her blurry, red eyes find mine.
“You,” she seethes, lifting her bottle. She attempts to hit me with it, but I step to the side, and all it makes contact with is the air around her. She falls forward with the motion, and I grab the bottle from her. I watch, and as if in slow motion, she lands on her face.
Well, shit.
That probably hurt.
Sucks to be her.
But it could’ve been worse, I guess. She could have landed on the bottle.
“You good down there?”
She attempts to get up but then decides to just lie on the sidewalk. Arms at her sides as if she can’t be bothered to even attempt to rectify her situation.
“You know someone has probably pissed where your face is, right?”
She says nothing, and when I lean down, I see that her eyes are closed. Poking her face with my finger, I get no response. I check her pulse as I hear footsteps approaching.
Looking up, I see both of my brothers standing there.
“Who’s the chick?” Zuko asks, nodding to her.
“She kicked me in the balls at the wedding.”
“So why did we stop?” Kenzo asks.
“Stop poking her,” Zuko says, so I do it again for good measure. She turns her head to the other side. “She looks young,” he notes.
“Her mouth says otherwise,” I reply, remembering how she spoke to me. I reach for her wrist and turn it over. There’s a butterfly tattooed on her skin and a small bag attached to her wrist. Removing the bag, I look inside, where there’s an ID and nothing else. Not even a dollar.
Kenzo takes her ID card and studies it. “Twenty-three,” he says, flicking the card back my way. “What do you plan to do with her?”
I stand and look down. “She can sleep here,” I say, then turn to walk away.
“Kyson,” Zuko says.
“What? She kicked me in the balls. She deserves it.” A soft snore leaves her as I stride back. Reaching down, I lift her. She weighs almost nothing as I throw her over my shoulder. “Damn! This woman needs to eat something.”
“She looks homeless,” Kenzo adds.
“Fuck, we’re late,” Zuko says as we get to the car. “Put her in the back. We have to go.” I do as he says and sit in the back with her, Kenzo taking the passenger seat. Glancing down at her head in my lap and her body tucked up into a small ball, I wonder why the fuck she’s still wearing that dress. It’s no longer white and has for sure seen better days. What’s her story? Shaking my head, I look up to see Kenzo watching me.
“You went to see Lilly.”
“I did.”
“You left her,” he adds like I need the reminder.
“I did,” I reply.
His gaze flicks to the woman asleep next to me. I don’t even know her name.
“She used their safe word in her vows,” Zuko informs him and Kenzo’s eyes go wide.
“Did you want to kill her?” Kenzo asks, obviously knowing me too well.
Because, you know, that’s our answer to every damn thing.
We kill.
It’s all we know.
And it works.
Incredibly fucking well.
“I thought about it.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because a part of me liked her. A lot.”
“And she loved you,” he adds, shaking his head. “Love is addicting. It’s one of those things we should all steer clear of.” He looks back to the snoring woman.
“I’m all in and don’t plan to leave it,” Zuko states, not an ounce of regret in his tone.
“Alaska is good for you,” I say.
Zuko meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and nods. He knows I like Alaska for him. She’s good for him and a little fucked-up, just like him. But good, nonetheless.
“Not us, brother,” Kenzo says, referring to the two of us. “You tried love and failed. And now she married someone else.”
His words hit me hard.
I wanted to love Lilly. I did. But for some reason, I couldn’t. Not the type of love people talk about and not the type of love Lilly needed.
But then again, maybe I don’t deserve that type of love.
Four
Kalilah
My head hurts.
That’s the first thing that comes to mind when I wake. The second thing I notice is that the floor isn’t cold. When I drink too much, I always end up waking up on something cold. Managing to open one of my eyes, I see something black in front of me but it’s blurry. My hands move, and I feel leather beneath my fingers.
Where am I?
I feel the effects of the alcohol in me. Am I still drunk?
Shit. I stole that bottle from a shop and ran. I was on the way back to my shitty motel, which I am about to lose soon.
And then I remember him.
What happened after I saw him?
Managing to sit up, I realize I’m in a car. Whose fucking car am I in? I reach for the door, but my arms are heavy and don’t want to cooperate.
Stupid alcohol.
That’s when I look out the window. And I wish I didn’t. I wish I’d stayed asleep on the car seat and didn’t sit up.
Because what is before me is not something I wish to see, or even hear, for that matter.
It’s dark outside, but the car’s headlights are trained on the man who sat next to me at the wedding. Kyson leans down and kisses the head of a man who is covered in blood before standing up and taking a step back. As he does, someone who looks like Kyson but different steps forward and raises a gun. He shoots. A scream rips from my mouth, and I scramble backward, but my back hits the door handle, causing me to hiss out a pained breath. Turning, I claw at the door, panic rising up my throat. Shit! It won’t open. It has some sort of child lock, so I turn to try the other door, but when I glance back out the window, three sets of eyes are firmly fixated on me.
Quickly, I look away and climb through to the front of the car. I manage to get the front door open with grabby hands, and then I fall out onto the ground. My hands hit the hard gravel, but I’m too panicked to react to the sting. Plus, I’m pretty sure I just ripped my dress.
Fuck.
“You look like a hot mess. Anyone told you that before?”
I know the sound of that voice. It’s been stuck in the back of my head for some stupid reason. I grumble and shake my head as I attempt to get up. When I gaze up at Kyson, he is looking down at me with those dark, mesmerizing eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest, but then he offers me a hand to help me up. I try to focus on it, but I still feel pretty drunk. My head starts to spin, and he bends down to tuck his hand under my arm to help me up.
“I should have kicked you in the balls harder,” I mumble. “Maybe then I wouldn’t be here.” He lets go of my arm, and I fall face-first into the ground. A small cry leaves my mouth, and I can taste my own blood.