Matthew

Warning: Long Chapter ahead. Keep hands and feet inside at all times. And lotsa angst. But I think you all knew that by now.  ;x

 

 

Fuck.

I needed an intermission, a cut-away, one of those black screens that faded one scene to the next in movies and TV shows. It was cliché and crappy, but so fucking helpful in avoiding the awkward in-betweens. One minute something dramatic took place, the next the character was lying in their bed, staring at their ceiling and recalling a crucial moment. I needed one of those. Why couldn’t I get one of those?

But no, I was stuck in a shabby phone booth with a mob boss towering over me, both of his hands pressed against the outline of my face while he waited for my response. Fucking crazy bastard. Make him fall in love with me? Seriously? The request was a plea and an ultimatum at the same time, something only Asher Pickett could pull off. He made me feel so tired—the kind of tired that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with emotional destruction. I couldn’t tell if he was confessing or blackmailing me. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or pulling a fast one. I couldn’t tell up from down.

“Are you out of your mind?” I hissed.

“I must be,” he responded confidently.

The fact that his eyes remained on my lips was my first hint, the subtle tilt of his head was the second, and yet I couldn’t conjure up the decorum to turn away when his skull dipped down to my level. It was the harsh knock, knock, knock against the booth’s window that halted what would have been a kiss, surprising us both into a frozen state. My curiosity slowly tugged my eyes to the side, but before my head could turn Asher quickly reacted to the outside presence. Correcting his posture, his hands ran through my hair to grab at the fabric of my hood, sweeping my head into the dark confines of the material in one smooth motion. It wasn’t until my hoodie brushed against my cheeks that I realized how hot my face had grown.

Was I blushing?

With another nervous lick to my lips, I glanced up to pinpoint the source of the knocking. Carter’s face awaited me just on the other side of the thin glass barrier, his lips stretched back so far that the resulting smile managed to devour a third of his face. Fuck, he was creepy.

“Go home,” Asher’s soft voice called my attention back to him. “Tell him you’re not feeling well and go home. I’ll contact you later.”

“Wait,” I whispered, blinking hastily from one cousin to the next, watching the taller man turn and slip out of the phone booth. I lingered in place a moment, afraid to follow him to the outside world. It was scary out there. But another knock flickered my gaze to the head bobbing just past the graffiti on the window, where I noticed the demented cousin beckoning me with one curled finger. I scowled back at him, both grateful and annoyed that he had followed us to the next street over. Reaching up to adjust my hood, I pushed a few strands of black out of my face in my own understated way of procrastination before stepping out onto the street.

“Where’d you two run off to? We haven’t even had dinner yet!” the redhead chuckled heartily.

“I was just on my way back,” Asher responded. The slight desperation he had held mere seconds before was no longer prominent in his voice. For all I knew, it was all part of my imagination.

“Actually,” I paused, waiting for both men to look at me before continuing. “I’m… not feeling very well. A little nauseous.. I think I’m going to head home.”

While Asher’s gaze seemed to relax with a tinge of relief, Carter’s smile lessened in width. He was clearly not pleased with the news. “Must have been the sudden exit,” he grunted.

“Yeah, must have,” I echoed, frowning back at him. It was eerie to see the cousins standing side by side, to be able to pick out all the similarities and differences between them. While Asher’s face habitually lacked emotion, Carter’s went through a series of erratic changes that seemed psychotically falsified. His lips twitched upward in what I would have characterized as a snarl, but he corrected it by smoothly transitioning into another smile. That smile scared me more than anything. “Well... good night,” I ended with a nod, about to turn away from them.

“Hold on, Sunshine,” the smiling cousin called out. “I have something for you.” He took a firm step toward me, pushing one hand into the pocket of his suit’s jacket. In a strangely frightening moment Asher stepped forward, making no real movements to interfere but simply moving in sync with his cousin. Carter paused, never taking his eyes off me, but seeming to acknowledge the unspoken threat. “Your phone. I thought I’d return it to you.”

“Oh,” I exhaled softly, glancing down at the phone in his hand which he made a show of slowly pulling out. He rotated the rectangular object so I could see the screen and extended his arm further, waiting for me to close the distance. I threw a paranoid glance up at his unwavering grin before daring to reach for it.

He laughed carelessly, seeming to enjoy the discomfort he’d induced in the two of us. “I took the liberty of adding my number for you,” he purred teasingly. “Now you can call me everyday.”

“Don’t count on it,” I hissed, jerking my phone free of his grasp.

A rumbling, almost warm chuckle erupted from the redhead’s lips, tensing the nerves in my body. My feet moved back several steps without my permission, functioning solely on instinct. It wasn’t safe to stand so close to the wild animals. I wasn’t supposed to feed them, pet them, or do anything more than watch from behind the safety of bars. Why did the boundaries blur so easily for me? How did I keep getting so close to having my fingers bitten off by hungry lions? Forcing my eyes away from the two men, I shoved my phone into my sweater’s pocket and hastily took my leave.

“Call me!” Carter yelled after me as I hurried in the opposite direction. To my dismay, I heard another loud laugh before his fading voice emitted a darker comment. “You’re making this way too easy, Ashy boy.”

I started running.

 

 

 

“Damn it.”

I winced when the fabric of my sleeve touched the cut on the inside of my lip, rippling a wave of pain through my core that allowed goose bumps to burst free across the back of my neck. The warmth of my tongue didn't soothe any discomfort when it brushed along the open wound, but I still found the instinct to repeatedly lick at the metallic taste like I could somehow conjure the magical ability to heal it with my saliva. No such luck. With a soft sigh, my eyes fell toward the residue of red staining my sweater, turning the once vibrant color into a muddy purple.

"Fuck," I groaned.

It took a moment to reclaim my footing, but I finally hiked up to a proper state of balance, forcing my legs to cooperate with my torso. How I managed to crash into a lamppost was beyond me, but that’s just what I got for not paying attention to where I was going. Not that anyone could blame me. Asher had dropped a big bomb on me back at the phone booth, and Carter’s interference had done wonders in kick-starting the runaway in my system. That’s exactly what I wanted to do; run away. I knew it wouldn’t solve any problems, or help me in the long run, but it was so tempting.

At first the shortcut through the park seemed like a good idea—I was hoping the fresh air would help clear my head and cut my travel time in half, but once all the trees and benches started looking the same beneath the cover of nightfall, I quickly came to regret the decision. No matter how many times I turned, I kept ending up at the same goddamn fountain, which irritated me enough to draw out a few groans of frustration. I didn’t even know what time it was, or how long I’d been wandering in circles. "God fucking..." I paused in the midst of a growl, extending my other hand to reach into a pocket and fish out my phone. I wanted to check the time, but a light blue box on the screen blocked that desired information, notifying me that I had 18 new voicemails.

18? Wow.

Staggering over to the bench I was sure I’d passed at least three times, I finally took a seat. One hand propped my phone against my ear as I slanted my head back, resting my neck against the wooden support while my tired eyes took a moment to rest. I had several messages from Ashley, Vincent and Rick, all questioning my whereabouts after I disappeared at the fair. I’d been pounding the number 7 repeatedly, deleting message after message for several minutes, when a rougher voice mixed into the bunch. My eyes flickered open, focusing on a lamp overhead as I listened to his voicemail.

“Hey, Goomba. Just checking in. Hopefully you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet. Call me back.”

My thumb jabbed into 7 again, moving onto the next message. I deleted one from Ashley, one from Rick, and then the familiar voice returned.

“Where the fuck are you? Stop being a nuisance and call me back. Elena wants to talk to Leah.”

7 beeped beneath my thumb.

“I swear if this is your idea of a joke, I’m going to tear your fucking arms off and shove them down your fucking throat. You better call me back.”

I pressed 7 again.

“Where the fuck are you?”

7 again.

“Shit, Goomba. I don’t know how he found out, but Asher is coming to France. You need to get the hell out of there. Take Leah and run. You hear me? Get out of there!”

7 again.

“You better not be dead. I fucking swear. Damnit. Call me back!”

7.

“Where are you, you little shit!”

7.

“Goomba! Call me back!”

7.

“He got to you, didn’t he?”

Though I repeatedly pressed seven after that, the mechanical voice on the other end assured me there were no other messages. I remained immobile on the bench, staring up at the light that had officially burned its imprint into my brain. A blink brought my head down, but the spots of white turned into black and the heaviness from my shoulders rolled into my chest. Vincenzo was right. He got to me. Asher Pickett finally got to me, but not in the way I’d feared. I wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere, nor was I locked up in a dark basement. This was worse.

I was supposed to make the Ice King fall in love with me.

 

 

Going to work seemed like an easy fix for my anxiety, a quick way to busy myself so I wouldn’t be caught up in my own chaotic thoughts, but the morning I returned to my little pub I knew something was wrong. The door was unlocked when I first arrived, which wasn’t normal since I was always first on the scene. “Hello?” I called into the stillness of the room. My feet didn’t take me far from the exit; I wanted to be able to run if worse came to worst. My stomach twisted with worry, my overactive imagination already feeding unnecessarily possibilities to my brain. Was it a burglar? Asher Pickett, back for revenge? Sebastian Carter, searching for more collateral? Anal-probing-Aliens, from outer space?

“Hey Matty!”

I jumped at the familiar voice, knocking over a chair that toppled loudly in the middle of the entryway. Ashley frowned from her position across the room, half leaning out of Mr. Moreau’s office with an innocent tilt of her head. I stared at her in quiet disbelief, internally trying to calm my pulse and assure myself everything was right in the world. “… what are you doing here?” my voice faltered halfway through my question, making me barely audible.

“I came up to clean the office,” she stated matter-of-factly, gesturing over a shoulder with her thumb.

“Oh.”

“You okay?” She pouted.

I forced myself to nod.

With a dismissing shrug, she turned to disappear back into the office, leaving me to brood in silence. I couldn’t help sneering in her direction, even though I was upset at my own inability to roll with the punches. It wasn’t her fault I was jumpy and paranoid, but… “Why are you here so early?” I asked, raising my volume so she could hear me from the other room.

“I told you, I came to clean up!” she called back, her words closely followed by the rough thudding of blunt objects. It took a few minutes for me to undo the mental glue melding my feet to the floor, forcing myself to finally move away from the front doors. I shifted to hover in front of the office instead, watching as Ashley bustled back and forth in her quest of tidying the room. She paused behind the desk with a lazy smile on her lips, one hand extended to drop useless stationary into a marked cardboard box. “You gonna help or just stand there?”

“Stand here,” I mumbled, not holding much humor in my voice. Watching her remove all evidence of Mr. Moreau only reminded me of how the lovable owner was gone, replaced by a man that had chained me down with a torturous ultimatum. I didn’t want to deal with the reality of making any important decisions. Not so early in the morning.

“Thanks,” Ashley scoffed, sparing me a roll of her eyes. Her organization of the room continued, one small item at a time, following a quiet rhythm of thuds and thumps that lulled my nerves into a false sense of security. I swayed my weight against the doorframe, leaning fully on the wood as my brain clicked out. It felt delightful not to think about anything, or anyone, to just watch my friend move around the room with a content look on her face. Her lips pursed now and then with the occasional hum, carrying a melody I didn’t recognize. I watched her until she stopped moving, and her eyes rolled up to meet mine. “Something on your mind?”

No, was the correct answer. There was nothing on my mind. I was convinced that I was thinking about absolutely nothing; but the words rolled out on their own accord, slipping free of my lips without conscious censorship to hold them back. “How do you make someone fall in love with you?”

She stared at me for a few seconds, shocked by my words and the unexpected topic. Then, ever so slowly, her lips stretched back into a shit-eating grin. It was her reaction that made me realize what I’d said, and my chest reflexively tightened, my gut damning my tongue to the seventh layer of hell. “Why, Matty, is that a confession?”

“Ha ha,” I grumbled,  turning away from her. “Forget I asked.”

“Hey, hey!” she laughed, dashing around the table to approach me. Her hand swung out, grabbing onto the hood of my sweater to tug me backward. “You can’t drop a line like that and then just walk away. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” I huffed, my irritation at my own words evident in my voice. Ashley was quick on my heels as I made my way to the bar, seeming unable to hide her excitement in the new subject. Overlooking my need to change into my uniform, I slipped behind the counter of my workstation and slammed the little gate shut behind me, locking my friend out. “Shouldn’t you finish cleaning up the office?”

Undeterred by my attitude, the army brat hopped up onto a stool across from me and planted both elbows on the countertop. Her chin dipped forward, falling quietly into the palms of open hands as her smile stretched cheek to cheek. “If you think I’m going to drop the subject now, you’re sourly mistaken.”

“Sorely mistaken,” I corrected her with a grunt. Hating the continuous display of her pearly whites, I turned my back on my friend in favor of busying myself with the task of preparing the morning’s first batch of coffee. I heard the stool creak behind me as she shifted, but I didn’t turn in fear of seeing her overly amused expression. “And forget it, alright? It was a stupid question.”

“Not. A. Chance.”

A tired sigh slipped free of my lips. Why had I even mentioned the stupid subject? It seemed that I’d been so intent on blocking out the previous night’s events that my denial successfully hid how much I was actually thinking about him. He was such a fucking disease: the herpes of my existence. Just when I thought he was successfully out of my life, he popped back up again, ready to make my days blur into my nights. Time moved too fast when he was around. I barely managed to mentally catch up with one event before another unfolded, followed by another, until I found myself so caught up in his net of destruction that my reality started to revolve around him.

“You know, that’s a really hard question,” Ashley continued, seeming determined to carry on the conversation even without my participation. “And it depends on if it’s a girl or guy. If it’s a girl, I suggest taking the romantic route. You know, flowers, poetry, gifts, maybe some long walks on the beach. Guys, on the other hand, enjoy more… physical stimulation, instead of mental stimulation. If you get my drift.”

My grip tightened on the coffee pot in a deliberate attempt to anchor my thoughts in place, to focus on the feel of the smooth plastic handle against the pads of my fingers instead of letting mental flashbacks of physical stimulation flood my mind. “Speaking from experience, are we?” I forcefully pushed the words past the clench of my jaws.

“Yes! Plenty!” There was no shame in her voice, and I barely had a chance to sigh before she resumed her damning advice. “But making someone fall in love with you is going to depend on the actual person. Everyone’s different. Then again, the most important factor is how you feel. That’s going to be your biggest weapon. Do you love them?”

It was clear Ashley wasn’t going to drop the subject, no matter how much I attempted to ignore it or dismiss it. So I turned back toward her, ready to put an end to it with a direct answer.

“Listen, Ashley, I—” But the words never made it out of my mouth. As soon as I turned, my eyes didn’t land on Ashley’s still-grinning face. They fluttered up towards the entrance, where a familiar suited man stood with one hand on the front door and the other tucked snugly into his coat’s pocket. There was an innocent smile on his face, chaste in its nature yet somehow capable of sending my blood pressure way past safe levels. A tremor ran down my arms, dangerously rocking the pot still in my possession. The object teetered in my grasp, knocking against the edge of the counter, and it would have surely toppled right out of my hold if Ashley didn’t leap halfway out of her seat to catch it.

“Jesus!” she gasped. Her voice was frantic enough to draw my attention off the unwanted visitor, down to the awkwardly twisted body of my friend as she tried to balance the empty coffee pot with the tips of her fingers.

“Sorry,” I exhaled, my voice barely holding any volume.

“You and coffee, I swear!” she yelled bitterly. Her hand hooked against the handle, pulling it down to the safe zone of the countertop. I glanced up to the doorway again, and this time Ashley followed suit, twisting on her stool to survey the pub’s entrance. “Ah, Mr. Pickett!”

The excited call snapped my eyes back down to my friend and co-worker, where I watched in shock as she hopped to her feet before approaching the devil. Her hand immediately stretched out in a warm, welcoming gesture, extended at an upward angle to accommodate for the sheer height difference. Ashley looked like a child standing next to his towering form, and the awe-aspired expression on her face didn’t help any. Though for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. Why was he standing in my pub so early in the morning? Why did Ashley greet him like she already knew him? Why did he smile so politely and take her hand like he knew her? My stomach did a few somersaults before I had the decency to open my mouth—and yet nothing came out. I couldn’t find any words to actually speak.

“Good morning,” he purred charmingly.

“I’m Ashley! We spoke earlier on the phone,” she chirped, her wide smile unwavering. “I’m almost done cleaning up the office, so feel free to settle in. I set out a list of the workers for you on your desk. Oh, and this is one of them! Matthew Lockwood,” she paused, pulling her hand back to gesture towards my workstation. “He usually mans the bar, and he’s always the first one here.”

Grey eyes moved up to me, narrowed slightly by the genuinely amused smile on his face. “Hello, Mr. Lockwood.”

A tremor rushed down my spine, creating a tingling sense of weakness in my knees that swayed my weight against the counter. One of my hands outstretched toward the two, pointing one accusing finger at the man that shouldn't have been standing there. My lips opened, closed, and opened again, emitting soft but strangled patches of noise that barely met my own ears. I didn’t know what the fuck to say.

“Matty, say hi,” Ashley suggested in a loud whisper.

“Hi,” I dumbly parroted.

“Uh… why don’t I give you the grand tour,” my friend said, distracting the man from my pathetic lack of functionality. He nodded in response, that damning curl of his lips still in place as he followed her into the office.

My outstretched hand immediately coiled up, pressing the pads of my fingers into my mouth as if that would somehow take my words out of the air and push them back down my throat. How much had he heard? Judging by his subtly cocky reaction, I could safely guess he’d at least witnessed Ashley’s last statement about love—which was enough to mortify me for a lifetime. Fuck. Fuck. I was quickly running out of reasons to hold my head up high around Asher Pickett.

Just as I began concocting a colorful lie about how I’d imagined everything, the front door swung open again, announcing the arrival of the boys. “Is he here yet?” Vincent called excitedly.

He who? I wanted to ask, but I already knew the dreadful answer was currently taking a tour of the office. I turned away from the two, picking up where I’d left off with the coffee.

“Matt, is the new boss here yet?” Rick asked, adding more negativity to my morning by confirming what I’d already suspected. The new boss. Asher Pickett was my new boss. He had not only bought out Mr. Moreau’s pub, he was planning on personally running it to make my life a living hell. This was a whole new level of revenge.

“I don’t know,” I snapped, deserting the coffee to slip out from behind the bar. I hurried into the back room before any more questions could be thrown at me, immediately heading towards my locker. Before changing into my uniform, I had to force myself to walk around the room a few times just to work off some of my frustration. What the hell did Pickett think he was doing? Was it another way to torture my friends? Was he going to fire everyone? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Matt?”

Rick’s voice made me jump half way out of my skin, drawing me out of my thoughts and back to reality. I turned to see him standing two steps to my left, right next to his locker, frowning at me with gauged concern. He kept his eyes on me as he reached into his own personal metal box, pulling out the white shirt and black pants that completed his work uniform. “What the hell has gotten into you lately?” he grumbled.

“What do you mean?” I forced myself to swallow.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he droned. “How about the fact that you’ve been ditching work like crazy? You used to be so anal about getting everywhere on time, but now it’s just a free-for-all. You leave as you like, come as you like, and us peasants just have to scramble to cover for you.” He paused beside me, extending one arm to wrap around my shoulders. “Seriously, Matt, you never call, you never write… ”

I slouched in place, trying in vain to ignore the weight of his arm. Though he held a playful grin on his face, Rick wasn’t very good at hiding the bitterness in his voice. I already knew I’d been neglecting my friends, barely sparing them the time of day, but I didn’t think myself so important to leave behind much of an impact. “Sorry… I’ve just been so busy lately…” I paused, internally struggling with details for a passable lie when the most obvious one popped up. “School’s been crazy.”

“Your online classes have been crazy?” Rick replied skeptically.

“Yes,” I grunted, shrugging away from his touch. I wasn’t about to bring up how I’d been neglecting my classes just as much as my work, or that I’d forgotten all about my finals until that very moment. No, I was going to grab onto the excuse every other legitimate student used when they had nothing else to justify disregarding an important task. “Among other things.”

“Right,” he jeered, moving away from me. “Other things.”

I blinked away from him in shame, whipping my skull down to redirect my gaze onto my fingers. The anxiety in my stomach spurred a reflexive lick of my lips. “Sorry,” I said again.

“It’s fine,” he said after a few minutes, and I glanced up in time to see him fully changed. His hands stretched his apron back against his torso, tying it off at the waist to protect his clothing from the kitchen’s grease. “Just know that we’re worried about you.”

“There’s no reason to be worried.” The chuckle that left my lips didn’t feel real. It was empty, devoid of emotion, but my ever-trusting friend seemed to accept it.

He smiled back at me, nodding his approval. “Oh, and you never showed up yesterday, so we never got to tell you,” he said with another faint wave of bitterness. “Ashley is moving in with me until she can get a place of her own, even though her dad’s transfer was cancelled. We decided you’re going to treat us to a meal to celebrate.”

“What?”

“Yup,” he nodded gravely. “And we want to go to that expensive restaurant uptown. It’s your own fault for bailing on us.”

“No, I meant… her dad’s transfer was cancelled?”

“That’s what I said.”

“And your bank accounts?”

“Oh, yeah, I took care of it. They said it was just some paperwork issues, it’s all fixed now.”

I reached out to flatten a hand against the row of lockers beside me, using it as a basis of support for my legs. “And Vincent? What about his rent?”

“See? This is what happens when you up and disappear on us. You’re no longer in the loop,” he teased, his grin returning. “I gave him some money as soon as my bank got its act together, but he said that he talked to his landlord and got things sorted out.”

“So.. everything is okay…” I said every word slowly, painfully, listening to the formation of each syllable as it swept into the air. O-kay. Everything was o-kay.

“Why wouldn’t it be? We would have figured it all out in the end, anyway. You have no faith.”

It irked me that everything had been set back into its place the day before, while I was busy running after a man avoiding me. Was it not of his doing in the first place? Or while he was on the phone, ignoring me, was he fixing everything? Did he already know I would lose the fight before it started? Though it occurred to me to get pissed, I only felt relief. Another sigh of contentment escaped my lips as I lowered myself to one of the benches, safely resting on the stable surface. The danger hadn’t passed, in fact he had moved even closer by occupying the role of my employer, but at least the first battle had been won.

My friends were safe.

Rick offered me a soft pat on the shoulder before slipping off to the kitchen, presumably to start work. A few minutes later Vincent walked in with some other co-workers, careless and innocently thinking it would be just another day at work. I took that chance to change into my own uniform before retreating to my bar in preparation of customers. Though I tried to pretend everything was normal, I couldn’t escape the haunting presence just a few steps away from me. The new boss was all the buzz. Customers and co-workers alike spoke of him, everyone collectively wondering what new changes he would bring. I was the only one that knew his presence was temporary; the moment he got what he wanted, he would leave.

The problem was, I didn’t know how to give him what he wanted.

I didn’t see my friends again until our lunch break, when they collectively approached my table in the back of the pub. I’d chosen the spot furthest away from the office, behind the edge of the counter, successfully hiding myself from sight. Not that it stopped my friends from pinpointing my location. Ashley immediately plopped down in a chair to my left, twirling the straw of her juice box between her index finger and thumb. “Heeeyyy Matty,” she called, holding a singsong tone that hinted she had a secret she was dying to share.

“Hmm?” I’d forgotten to bring any food with me, so I nibbled on some leftovers I had snatched from the kitchen. I was just about to fork a mess of peas into my mouth when Vincent’s voice stopped me.

“Ashley told me about your problem,” he said.

“What problem?” Rick frowned.

“Matty is having some love troubles,” Ashley added willfully. I winced beneath the burnt of her amused tone, mentally kicking myself for practically handing over the ammunition for my dignity’s execution.

“No, I’m not,” I declared.

“Sure you are!”

“What is it?” Rick asked, understandably interested.

“Seems there’s a special someone in his life that he—“

“Ashley!” I hissed, cutting her off before she could further damage my pride. She paused to throw me a puzzled look, like she couldn’t possibly fathom why I didn’t want the delicate information revealed to the world.

“He wants to know how to make someone fall in love with him,” Vincent finished for her.

I groaned in defeat, tipping my weight forward to press my face into my hands. “Unbelievable,” I sighed.

“Don’t worry, Matty,” Ashley’s perky voice easily reached me. I felt her dainty hands rush through my hair, rubbing the exposed flesh on the back of my neck as she swayed her weight against my side. “You have three wonderful friends here willing to help you out, right guys?” I didn’t need to look up to know she received at least one nod in consensus. “We can give you plenty of advice.”

“Who is it?” Rick sounded perfectly curious.

“He was probably seduced by a nice, sexy French girl,” Vincent responded confidently.

“If she’s anything like Vincent’s sisters, I suggest you club her over the head and drag her to your secret cave.”

“I dislike your American-humor.”

“I have yet to see any of your French humor.”

“Guys!” I growled, finally bringing my head up to glare at my friends. They had all gathered in a semi circle around me, the boys standing beside the table while Ashley had comfortably settled into leaning on me. Their collective shadow felt too suffocating, so I tried to move away from them, but Rick’s hand quickly extended to stop me.

“So who is it?”

I frowned up at him, first glaring at his arm, then at his face. “Does it matter?”

He relaxed his stance, pushing a smile to his lips that felt in no way genuine. “It must mean something to you if you brought it up in conversation in the first place, right?”

I flopped back into my seat with a disappointed look on my face, hating the logic in his words. He made me feel cheap with his tone, but I didn’t know why. It was like he was trying to tell me something without spelling it out for me. The bitter betrayal in his voice from earlier in the morning still haunted me. I didn’t know any of the answers and I didn’t have access to a cheat-sheet. “It was just a passing thought,” I replied lamely.

“Uh huh, sure it was,” Ashley giggled. “Anyway, the first thing you should do is go everywhere he does. Make sure he sees you all the time, so you’re always on his mind. Cook something for him, or at least pretend you cooked it. Guys like it when you show that you can take care of them, because they’re all big babies in the end. Oh, and make sure there is plenty of body contact.” A pause in her words was easily filled up by her actions as she trickled her touch lower against my neck, dipping her fingers into the collar of my shirt to taste the warmth of the flesh below. My skin easily broke out in goose bumps. “See?” she laughed when I shrugged away from her.

“No, no,” Vincent interrupted. He quickly reached out to grab a nearby chair, jerking it up along my right before he plopped into place. “Listen, the best way to a girl’s heart is to be a complete and utter ass to them. Right, Rick?”

“Fuck off,” the trust-fund baby hissed.

Grinning at his own subtle revenge against his friend, Vincent gave a quick shrug before turning back to me. “But seriously, girls love mushy stuff. Send her presents, and plenty of texts or cards saying you were just thinking about her. Don’t forget plenty of compliments. Most girls have shit self-esteem for some reason, so if you build them up, they’ll think the world of you. And always put your arm around her, because it makes them feel protected or something. Girls love feeling protected,” he assured me, then decided to set his words into practice by stretching his arm out to wrap it around me. I exhaled sharply and jolted upward, moving out of his hold. “… Well, girls like it,” he added when he noted my sour expression.

“Why are you assuming Matty has a crush on a girl?” Ashley piped in.

“Why are you assuming it’s a guy?” Vincent fired back.

“We’ve already gone over this. Obviously because if he was interested in the female gender, at all, he would have already gone out with m—“

“Yeah, yeah. We all know how highly you think of yourself. Don’t think I didn’t know what you were doing when you kept showing up at the grocery store by my house. Make sure he sees you all the time, so you’re always on his mind, huh? I know your tricks, evil woman.”

“Oh yeah? What was that bullshit about sending girls presents and cards to say you miss them? You never sent me anything while we were dating!”

“Maybe because you never left me alone long enough to miss you!”

I shrank further into my seat, hunching into myself while my two friends went at each other’s throats. The conversation very quickly turned personal, but before it could get too far, the only sane person in the room put a stop to it. “Regardless of seduction tactics,” Rick said, grabbing the back of Vincent’s chair and tugging to distance him from the table. “You can’t make someone fall in love with you. It just doesn’t work that way.”

“That concludes today’s Words of Wisdom from Rick,” Ashley added in a mock announcer-voice. I smiled weakly at them, having absorbed every bit of advice—regardless of how flawed—but still lacking the ability to apply it to my situation. I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone, and the concept of love was as foreign to me as using two rocks to pick up a grain of rice.

“I’m serious. Love just happens. You can’t force it,” Rick insisted.

“No, but lust is like the precursor to love. You get into a guy’s pants, and—“

“Or a girl’s,” Vincent included stubbornly.

“Whatever.”

“Thanks, everyone,” I said suddenly, wanting to put an end to the ridiculous discussion. “But I think I’m going to go back to work now.”

I moved out of my seat, dodging Ashley’s touch to make a full circle around the table and towards my bar. The footsteps behind me, I was sure, belonged to the energetic little pipsqueak that couldn’t keep her nose out of everyone else’s business—but when a heavy arm looped around my neck, and his familiar cologne swept up into my nostrils, I knew it was Rick. He pulled me against him just before I reached the bar, locking us in a half-hug. His head swayed forward, propping his chin against my shoulder as he exhaled a soft puff of air against my cheek. I slanted my skull just enough to steal a glance at his expression, already aware there was something on his mind.

The muted hazel of his eyes stood out like marbles against the dark tone of his skin, creating just the right amount of contrast to be considered dazzling. I found myself mirroring his smile without meaning to, but the feeling of tranquility was all too fleeting. The bastard just had to open his mouth and talk. “Want to tell me why the passive aggressive dude I saw in your apartment last week is our new boss?”

“No.” I answered reflexively, stupidly, never stopping to realize how much more complicated I was making the situation. It would have been smarter to make up a believable excuse.

“No?” he echoed incredulously.

“No,” I repeated. “I don’t want to.”

He stared at me for a few heartbeats. Then, slowly, he cracked another smile. “Alright,” came a soft chuckle. His other hand raised, about to extend and slap lightly at my cheek in his usual brotherly, affectionate gesture when another voice spoke. It came from the back of the pub, carrying with a familiarity that instantly caused me to tense up beneath Rick’s arm.

“Mr. Chamberlain,” the authoritative voice called. I didn’t recognize the name, not at first, but when I felt Rick shift against me I knew who the ‘new boss’ was addressing. “May I see you in my office a moment?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Rick replied with an unsure edge.

I shivered against my friend, wanting to warn him against the mighty demon summoning him but finding my throat too dry to cooperate. When he unwound his arm from my shoulders, pulling away from me to approach the designated office, my hand flew out on its own accord. I grabbed the side of his apron, tugging backward on it. He immediately stopped, giving me his undivided attention.

“You… uh…” I paused, hesitantly glancing over his shoulder to the stern grey glare. “… want any coffee?”

“No,” my friend laughed, moving away from me to enter the office. Pickett’s glare surprised me, as it held a sense of anger I didn’t think I’d earned, but he broke contact easily enough when he disappeared into the next room. The click of the door haunted me. Even though I knew him to be civilized, at least in appearance, I kept imagining him breaking Rick’s wrist just because my friend had tried to initiate a handshake.

Was I overreacting? Or not reacting enough?

The few minutes Rick spent in that office, talking about god knows what, I remained frozen by the bar. My lower lip was officially chewed to a raw state, and my complexion had gone pale enough to facilitate a few inquiries about my health from customers. Even though some orders came for drinks, I ignored them, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the office door. If Rick didn’t come out in the next five minutes, I promised myself I’d rush in after him.

But thankfully, he came out, looking as healthy as when he went in. “What did he say to you?” were the first words out of my mouth when Rick approached me.

“He mention making me acting manager… and giving me a raise…” he replied quietly, slowly, a stunned look on his face. “But I told him to give it to Vincent instead, since he needs the money more. He agreed.” Rick flashed me one of his charming smiles, arching his eyebrows a bit as he reached out to gently punch at my arm. “Maybe he’s not such a rude fuck after all, eh?”

“… Right,” I mumbled, glancing over my friend’s shoulder to the closed office door behind him.

Just having Pickett around my friends was enough to make me nervous. He wasn’t even doing anything yet and I was constantly expecting the worst. But, god damn it, this wasn’t me. I wasn’t this shy, meek little boy that needed others to speak for him. I wasn’t one to hide and censor my words. Moving away from my friend, I boldly charged into the office without wasting time with a knock. I was going to give him a piece of my mind whether he liked it or no—

“Yes?” he asked quietly, hatching a few butterflies in my gut with the simple hum of his voice. Most my bravado drained as soon as the grey eyes rolled up to me, but I stood my ground, glaring back at him with the stubbornness of an ignorant child.

“Why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he hummed. One of his hands picked up a folder in front of him, raising a few papers for me to see. “Work.”

“This isn’t your work. It’s my work. So I’ll ask you again. Why are you here?”

He chuckled softly at my tone, lowering the paperwork back to the table. One of his fingers gingerly smoothed out a corner, occupying his hands with idle work. “You already know why I’m here.”

I contemplated his response, trying desperately to dissect it so it made sense to my brain. No such luck. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” I tried.

“No.”

The curt, sudden answer made me flinch. I shifted my weight from one foot to the next, once again highly aware of the nervousness in my gut. “About my friends…” I began, fighting the uneasiness in my own voice. My hand moved against the doorknob, quietly closing the door behind me. “I want you to leave them alone.”

“I didn’t realize you were capable of loyalty.”

My eyes immediately dropped beneath the weight of his backhanded insult. Not that I hadn’t been expecting him to bring up my supposed betrayal sooner or later, but now? Really? I had to remind myself that there was time for guilt later, when Ashley, Rick and Vincent were safely tucked away from Pickett’s wrath. “They don’t deserve to be punished for whatever mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

“No?”

“No,” I huffed, glaring at my own hands. “I’m the one that screwed up. I should be the one paying the price. Not other people,” I paused, biting into my lower lip as I felt my nerves crackle. I knew what I was about to say would draw me deeper into hell. “My friends… and Elena and Vincenzo. They don’t deser—”

“I’m quite tired of hearing about your friends,” he interrupted, a rougher edge to his voice. “I believe we addressed that matter yesterday.”

I thought back to the words whispered to me in the confines of the telephone booth, to the hands pressed against my face and the desperation tingeing the grey of his eyes. For a moment, I thought of asking him the same question I’d posed to Ashley earlier. How was I supposed to make someone fall in love with me? And why? Did he feel it necessary for me to make a fool of myself to feel better? Did he need that extra ego boost? Was he just trying to torment me? Fidgeting nervously against the door, I wasted a few moments just gawking at him before the silence grew too much for me to handle. With Pickett still staring me down, I quietly turned and left his office.

Alright.

Love.

I could do this. I could totally do this.

What did I know about dear Mr. Pickett? He liked it when I licked my lips. Weird, but doable. He snapped when I teased him too much. He hated it when someone said ‘no’ to him. He had a sick need for constant control over everything. His hair felt remarkably soft and his lips tasted like—

Okay, that was a bit too far. I didn’t need to think that much to seduce him. Not that I thought myself in any way capable of seduction, but it was worth a shot. First, I tried Ashley’s approach. It was easy enough to keep myself on his mind, considering he had literally forced his way into my place of employment, so next was… cooking? I hadn’t cooked anything in so long; I didn’t think I could pull it off. Instead of putting any real effort into it, I poured some fresh coffee into a cup and snatched up a cupcake as a peace offering. I took both to his office, this time entering with a soft knock, and noticed a peek of amusement in his eyes when I carried the food to his desk.

“I.. uh.. thought you might be hungry,” I told him. My own voice made me wince. I sounded so pathetic and awkward that whatever god existed out there might have struck me down with a lightening bolt just to keep me from further embarrassing myself.

Pickett didn’t say anything, but he humored my ridiculous attempt by reaching forward to scoop up the coffee to his artfully curved lips. After a brief sip, his head moved in a subtle nod and he redirected his gaze to me. “I hear you don’t drink coffee anymore,” he whispered.

My lips parted with a reflexive lie, ready to deny and refute everything. It didn’t need much pondering to figure out which little bird had told him of the seemingly unimportant fact. Fucking Ashley. She was going to be the death of me. A few painfully slow seconds passed before I managed to get my legs moving again, quietly redirecting me to the door. It closed just as quietly behind me.

It took a good three hours for me to shake off the embarrassment and make another attempt at wooing him. I knew it wasn’t a task that would find good results in the span of one day, but the sooner I got him to back off, the sooner my friends would be saved. So I approached his office again, once more carting fresh coffee with me. He was on the phone when I entered, but still paused to offer me a glance. Using his busy status as an excuse for my own cowardice, I dropped off the cup at the edge of his desk and hurriedly made my exit. The pitiful charade continued for two more rounds, with me continuously delivering coffee in hopes of striking up a conversation of some sort with him.

Every time, I chickened out the moment he looked at me.

On my fifth try, I took tea instead of coffee. My friends were starting to throw me curious, puzzled looks, but I ignored it in favor of keeping my own bravery intact. The pub was busy enough to keep them occupied, but not too busy for my absence behind the bar to become a problem.

“Coffee again?” Pickett asked when I entered his office.

“Tea,” I replied, pausing by the door to glance at the row of barely touched mugs outlining the edge of his desk. Taking him presents and keeping myself on his mind wasn’t working fast enough, so what was next? Putting my arm around his shoulders? Body contact? Physical stimulation?

“Do you have something to say to me, Mr. Lockwood?” he asked, his tone flat.

“I jus…” My voice faltered on the next word, making me feel too feeble to even stand in his presence. I didn’t know how to play this new game of his; it was just too hard.

I tried to go on autopilot to make things easier on myself, so that maybe I could ignore the anxiety in my gut and the light shake in my fingers when I approached him. I didn’t safely set down the cup on an edge of the table and retreat this time, no, I made my way around until I was standing next to him. Then, cautiously, I leaned down to place the tea in a cleared area beside his arm. He turned in his chair just enough to watch me, never doing anything to encourage or discourage my actions. What now? What next? Was I supposed to just reach out and touch him? How? Where? I could feel the heat of his body, could smell the clean sting of his aftershave, and could hear the steady rhythm of his breath. His eyes rolled up to lock onto mine and I felt my throat tighten.

Shit, I couldn’t do it.

“I, uh, I should get back to work,” I whispered hastily.

“Wait,” he said, catching me off guard.

His hand reached out to hook a finger against a bare belt loop of my pants, tugging forcefully to bring me back to his side. He used enough force to sway my center of balance, but I managed to catch myself by slamming a hand down against the back of his chair. My head swung down, watching in bewilderment as a small smile tugged on one corner of his lips. His other hand moved up from his lap, grabbing at the bottom of my white work shirt to release it from the hold of my pants. He quietly undid the last few buttons and readjusted them, fixing a mistake I hadn’t noticed before; one of the buttons had been skipped, never led into the correct hole, which didn’t matter enough for anyone else to mention it. Of course, Asher Pickett wasn’t anyone else. And truth be told, I didn’t expect him to stop at just fixing my shirt, but he easily proved me wrong.

“Now you can go,” he added.

My face flushed in a matter of seconds, shooting enough heat up to my skull to blur my vision. I jerked away from him with unsteady steps, practically tripping over myself in my haste to leave the room. I threw him a disgusted glare before barreling out and slamming the door shut behind me.

I didn’t go back to his office after that. Coffee be damned.

The rest of the day was spent sulking behind the bar, grunting at those that dared to place orders with me and glaring at Ashley’s chipper expression. Rick must have thought his earlier friendly teasing had turned my mood sour, because he came out twice to apologize and chat with me. I ignored him. My mind kept replaying Pickett’s little stunt over and over again, spurring enough anger in me to want to kick babies. Or kittens. Whichever crossed my path first.

At the end of the day, it was ever-so-dense Ashley that approached me. She hopped up on a stool across my workstation, tapping two fingers on the countertop to grab my attention. “You up for a drink with the gang?”

I sneered at her, ready to unfairly vent my aggravation out on her. I barely managed to stop myself when I noticed Rick standing behind her, looking guilty. Poor guy. He hadn’t done anything to piss me off, none of them had, they were just easy targets for the frustration Pickett was steadily welling up inside of me. “Yeah, okay,” I agreed reluctantly. Perhaps a drink would do me good. My opinions on alcohol hadn’t changed, I still detested the stuff, but maybe it would help get me out of my own head. “I don’t get off until twenty more minutes though, so you guys go ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”

“Sweet. We’ll be at Lestat’s,” she announced, giving another tap of her fingers before hopping off the stool. “And bring your wallet! Drinks are on you.”

“Yeah, alright.” I nodded.

I was thankful for the silence that came afterward.

No customers remained, leaving me to clean up in a controlled stillness that helped bring my blood pressure back down. Pickett had left sometime during closing time, so thankfully I didn’t have any awkward moments during lockup. After sweeping the floor and putting the chairs up, I put the security code in place, locked the front door, and made my way to the nearby bar. Although we served perfectly good alcohol at the pub, most people that worked there never liked to actually drink there. Relaxing and unwinding at work didn’t really go hand-in-hand. Most enjoyed the atmosphere of Lestat’s more, with livelier music, decent alcohol, and a crowd looking to loosen up.

When I arrived, my friends were already occupying two small tables towards the right side of the room. Ashley jumped out of her seat the moment she saw me, waving her hand back and forth over her head to flag me down. I shrugged out of my jacket on my way over, taking a moment to drape it on the back of a chair before plopping down next to Vincent. Rick sat across from me, with Ashley to his right and a new beau beside her. I didn’t think much of the empty chair to my left.

“Matty, meet Brett. Brett, this is Matty,” Ashley squealed, excitement evident in her voice. I offered him a nod in acknowledgement and he nodded back, unsettling some of the longer bangs he had gelled into a messy faux hawk. At least it didn’t take her long to get over Roger.

“I’ll go grab the drinks,” I offered, swaying in my seat to reach into my back pocket. Just as I grabbed my wallet, Ashley vigorously shook her head.

“We already ordered the drinks,” she informed me, a delighted look on her face. “And don’t worry, you don’t have to pay. I was just kidding. Ah, here they come now!”

I turned in my seat to follow the trajectory of her gaze, glancing over my shoulder just in time to see an unexpected guest approaching our table with a tray of drinks in his possession. He balanced it perfectly at the tips of his fingers, carrying it like a waitress that had spent the better half of her life waiting on tables. Imagine my surprise when I realized it was Asher Pickett.

I was going to need a lot more than one measly beer to get me through the night.

 

 

Author’s Note: Plot. Omg so much plot. PLOT SUX. Or something. :D Because who likes icky plot, right? That’s right, YOU! … I mean, no one. I mean… uh...

Hopefully I didn't confuse anyone with the similar names of Asher and Ashley... but I tried to make up for it by referring to Asher by 'Pickett' when Ashley was in the scene/section to help! ... did it help?