Chapter 31 Sawyer
SAWYER
“Well, would you look at that,” chuckled Carter. “He lives.”
It was already dark by the time I got to The Refuge, and that was unusual. Then again I’d had an unusual day, hijacked by a wide variety of errands; almost all of which had been given to me by Hayden.
Of course, it also didn’t help that I hadn’t left her bed until just before noon.
Last night had been pretty fucking wild. It started around one in the morning, when Hayden sexted me a photo of herself lying in bed, legs open, one hand resting between her thighs. I could only see two of her four fingers. It didn’t take long to realize where the other two were.
By the time I’d stepped into the hallway, Bodie was already there. He held up his phone.
“You too?” he’d asked groggily.
The photos she’d sent him were closer up shots. As such, they left even less to the imagination.
“Wasn’t sleeping anyway,” he’d shrugged. “Let’s go.”
Together we’d entered the bedroom, and already it smelled like sex. Soft moans and dim lighting led us to her gloriously naked form, still writhing from her latest climax. As it turned out, Hayden had started without us. She was way ahead of us in the orgasm department.
Her lips were wet, her eyes glazed with lust. The expression on her perfect face was pleading, as her long hair spilled out over the pillows beneath her.
“Use me,” she whispered, breathlessly.
From there, it was a desperate two-man race for the drawstring on our sleep shorts.
I was the lucky winner of that little contest, but just by the look in Hayden’s bedroom eyes I should’ve realized how worked up she was.
If I had, I would’ve known that last night was going to be a marathon, and not a sprint.
“Beer me?”
I hopped into my seat, and Carter slid me a cold one. I could tell right away that something was amiss.
“Alright, what is it?”
He held up a finger as he turned away to help someone else at the opposite end of the bar. I looked to Grizz, wild-eyed and wild-haired. Hunched over his eternal beer, he only shrugged.
“I already asked him who farted in his elevator,” Grizz croaked. “He came in here like that.”
Left alone with my thoughts, my mind invariably drifted back to last night.
We’d spent hours using Hayden; kissing her, touching her, making her feel absolutely amazing.
Bodie and I took turns between those tan, supple thighs, making love to her slowly and deliberately through the silent darkness.
We also alternated holding our hands over her mouth as she arched her back and climaxed around us, again and again, before finally filling her, from both ends.
That hot little finale had driven her crazy. We hadn’t actually planned it; flooding her warm channel and hot mouth simultaneously, from behind and in front. But when it happened, we knew right away it was the pinnacle of connectivity that three people could ever possibly have.
My daydream was broken again by Carter’s worried face. He couldn’t even meet my gaze as he slid a pair of glasses into the sink and frowned.
“I’ve got some bad news and some worse news,” sighed Carter. “Which do you want first?”
“Does it matter?”
“Probably not.”
“Then just hit me with it.”
My friend leaned forward, dropping his elbows on the bar. I’d seen him worried before, but this was a whole different level.
“Our lawyers called. We lost the appeal.”
A slow, sick feeling crept into the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t believe it.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Carter nodded solemnly.
“So what happens now?”
“I don’t know, actually,” he shrugged. “Even worse, our lawyers don’t know. The rezoning board wouldn’t listen to a single thing they said.” Carter shook his head and growled. “I’m sure they’re already in those fuckers’ pockets.”
That last theory wasn’t just a possibility, it was all but certain. When the first letters came declaring that The Refuge was improperly zoned, we figured the place had to be grandfathered in. It was simply a matter of getting a variance, nothing more.
But then Harborstone showed up, offering to buy The Refuge outright. They didn’t want the bar, of course, they wanted the land. Turns out they’d already bought up most of the surrounding blocks, and were looking to develop the property into luxury townhouses. Or so they said.
In reality, who knew what kind of housing would go up once the old neighborhood had been bought and paid for. But the idea of watching The Refuge get torn down and paved over had made Carter’s blood boil.
“Soo… what do you think the next move should be?” I asked my friend carefully.
“Fuck if I know.” He poured himself a beer and dropped it onto a coaster beside mine. “We’ve already thrown so much money at it, I don’t know if it’s worth continuing this fight.”
He was right of course, but I couldn’t tell him that. It was a conclusion he needed to arrive at himself.
“Please tell me that’s the worse news,” I offered.
Carter shook his head. My shoulders slumped.
Ah, shit.
“Now that our rezoning attempts have failed,” he went on, “they cut their original offer in half. Less than half, actually.”
“Fuck their offer!” I snarled into my beer.
“Yes, but—”
“You don’t want to sell this place anyway, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve put so much of my life into it.” He paused to look around before lowering his voice. “But I also can’t imagine walking away with nothing.”
I glanced around with him, following his gaze. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing.
“We’re not exactly at fire marshal capacity here, either,” Carter whispered glumly. “Speaking of which, apparently we have a meeting with him next week.”
I squinted. “Why?”
“Fuck if I know,” Carter shrugged. He shook his head, and pointed around. “When I was a kid, this place used to be filled with people. Motor clubs, mostly. The Harleys out front were parked two rows thick, instead of the one or two you see now. You could barely walk through the place.”
“I know,” I sighed, pointing around to the walls. “I’ve seen pics.”
“There were fights every night,” Carter continued. “Rallies. Wet T-shirt contests…”
“Those went out in the 90’s, apparently,” I lamented. “Sorry we missed those.”
“Yeah, me too,” he agreed with a grin. “My father told me stories about raking in fistfuls of cash each weekend. My granduncle had to buy an extra safe.”
“He ever hear of banks?” I quipped.
“The man hated banks, and you know it,” smiled Carter. “He didn’t trust any of them.”
I could only imagine what it must’ve been like, walking in here back in the 70’s and 80’s. The Refuge was packed wall to wall with G.I.’s, fresh from the war. All of them looking for a place to drink and commiserate. To drown their sorrows, and try to forget.
“Times change,” I shrugged. “It’s not like that anymore.”
“No,” came a deep, gravelly voice from behind us. “It isn’t.”
With that, Grizz drained the rest of his beer, and pushed the empty forward. Carter refilled it for him, wordlessly.
How long had he been listening? How many of the things we’d just described had he actually seen?
“It’s strange how a place like this can feel so different,” Grizz spoke, hoisting his glass our way, “when all the right people are gone.”