Chapter 3
My brothers and I all sit in Ressyns office watching silently while he paces around the small space. He's stressed with too many fuck ups piled on top of the last unresolved ones.
“Alright, I need someone down at the docks today to supervise the incoming shipment.”
Res finally stopped to face us. There are circles under his eyes making him look older from his lack of sleep. “Remember this is a trial run. It needs to go off without a hitch if we are to be in business with them.”
Rain sits forward to no doubt claim this spot when Res holds up a hand to silence him.
“Also, the bar is short on staff today. I need at least two of you there. Kai and Rain should take it, and Creek will oversee the shipment. Beige, I need you on Addy’s ass. You hired him, you train him in all things better. The guy is like a kid in a candy store. He sees something shiny and goes in that direction. He wears his ass on his head, and you handed him the general manager spot like a dumbass. Now I'm not one to question you because this usually doesn't happen. So just fucking fix it.”
He lets out a long breath after that instruction dump before he continues. “Shaide, I need you and the shadows to meet with someone for me. They are requesting to do business and they think they can just walk in here and talk to me. Show them that’s not how it fucking works. If they impress you then schedule something.”
His hands rest on his hips now as he looks to each of us. We don’t say shit because we have to do it anyways. This seems to piss him off.
“Got it?!”
All with the exception of Rain grunt in agreement. He looks uncomfortable, squirming in his seat like he's got something lodged up his ass. Res notices this too.
“What?”
Rain clears his throat, still looking constipated and I narrow my eyes in suspicion. Somethings been going on with him and when I find the time I'm going to get to the bottom of it.
“I’d like to trade places with Creek if that’s alright? I'll oversee the shipment and he can man the bar. He’ll want to keep an eye on the new guy anyways as head of security an all.”
I forget myself for a moment and blurt out the first thing that comes to me. “That’s because he's a slimy little shit. I know it, I can feel it in my bones.”
“That trade is fine, let me know if you have any issues Rain.”
Res says calmly before he eyes me and sends a quick text on his phone.
Ressyn is a good big brother to us. He's a hard motherfucker, made worse after Blithe died. They were in love. That deep shit that people cry over and write songs about. I was 18 when Blithe passed. The day before his death had been such a happy day for the family. We had a cookout at Blithes family ranch and got wasted next to a burn pile. I had never seen Ressyn so happy and so alive. That was the night Blithe they married. That was also the last night we spent with him. A milestone forever tainted by bad memories.
Res never did understand that he wasn’t the only one who lost him that day. He still can't see past his grief even If he fools himself into thinking he's moved on because he's fucking someone else.
A soft knock sounds at the office door and we all turn before Ressyn says it's open.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The guy from last night walks in with Addy right on his heels.
Ressyn hand snakes out in greeting and I wait with bated breath for the kid to disrespect him the way that he did Shaide.
“I'm Ressyn, and these are my brothers, it's nice to meet you.”
His tone is curious, but still holds a hardness to it in the way that he greets everyone.
Then something happens. The guy smiles. Perfect white teeth on full display as he takes Ressyns hand in his and looks at him with something akin to pride and maybe sadness?
What the fuck is going on.
My eyes dart here and there, and I see that all of my brothers eyes are narrowed, and Addy's brows hit the sky in surprise.
Now I really don’t trust this motherfucker.
He's on the shorter side like Addy. There isn’t much bulk to him either, just a small little thing taking up too much of our damn space. He's wearing black cargos and docs, with a loose fit Tee. Flowers and vines run up and down his left arm in black ink. He’s wearing dangly cross earrings that stand out against his scarred neck.
His face is pretty? All soft and shit like his voice.
I don’t fucking trust him.
He needs to go like yesterday.
It would be a shame if he slipped off the balcony in the VIP area, and my gun accidently fired in his direction for extra measure.
“Hi Ressyn. My name is Harlyn, but you can call me Har or Devil. Whichever of the three you prefer, I'm not picky.”
Okay, I'm definitely not imagining it this time. He's looking at Ressyn as if they have known each other for years. He's looking at him with an intense devotion that I don’t understand. That can't be right. “And thanks so much for the job man, I really appreciate it. Whatever you need just say the word.”
He ends his soft little speech with a nod and I'm scowling so hard my lips might fall off. Beige is no better and I'm glad I'm not alone in these feelings.
Like who the fuck is this and what did he do with the disrespectful ass from last night?
Ressyn glances off to the side for a beat with furrowed brows and I know he's wondering the same thing. “Well thank you Harlyn, I'll keep that in mind. For now, I just have a few questions for you.”
This Harlyn nods seriously, like this is the most important task of his existence. Like he was born to answer my brothers questions and cross the seas to do it. And did he say that Res could call him Devil????
Strike fucking 7.
“My brothers and I have a hard time letting strangers in.”
Res explains not unkindly, like I would have. “Addy never should have hung that sign up outside. It was a silly mistake on his part and has since been taken down. Nonetheless we’d like to know a little bit about you. Maybe a last name? And why you weren’t able to provide the correct identifications for the job. Skill sets, job history, that kinda thing.”
He licks his then chews his pretty bottom lip and I hate him. Before he responds he turns and addresses me as if I was the one who asked the questions. As if I'm wearing a sign on my forehead that says I fucking hate you. It only makes me more suspicious of him. His icy gaze clashes with mine and my heart skips a beat because I have cardiac problems now and I'll need to text Clarissa about it later.
“My name is Harlyn. Just Harlyn, no last name. I have never owned any identification as I was not born in a hospital setting and my mother never established any of that.”
He pauses to let that sink in and must figure that I don’t believe him even though I’ve kept my features impassive because he rolls his eyes before continuing. My eye twitches at that and a ghost of a smirk appears briefly on his face. If you weren’t looking as close as me you would have missed it.
“I have a lot of skills, one of which is a photographic memory. I have never been a bartender, but I read up on some popular drinks this morning and I've got them all in here.”
His slender finger taps his temple for extra measure. His hands are nice, small, and pretty just like him. If my eyes narrow any more, then I won't be able to see because they will be closed.
This seems to amuse him. His facial expression remains stoic but it's all in his eyes. They tell a story. They are deep and crystal blue like the ocean and begging for someone to come and drown in their sea of lies.
“I don’t have any official job history. In fact, I have never been paid a penny in my life. I'm 19 years old, an orphan and I take care of my little sister. That is all.”
I don’t respond and it's his turn to narrow his eyes.
“Should I take my clothes off now or later?”
He asks me casually while I seem to choke on a gust of wind indoors.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you seem to be mapping my body out with your eyes and I figured you'd want to get your hands dirty instead to get the full experience.”
His lip curls in a sneer and I'm abruptly suffering from heart issues again.
Goddamnit, where's my phone?
“That won't be necessary.”
Shaide steps in, offering Harlyn his hand once more. Which he ignores turning on his heel to face Addy.
“Oh, that reminds me!”
Addy claps like a child in a toy store. “What size do you wear so I can get you some uniforms?”
“No.”
Addy panics like a loon. “No? What do you mean no? All the staff wear uniforms.”
The shift in the room is instantaneous. Palpable something dangerous. My gaze flicks over Harlyn’s form and I notice he's shaking. It's hardly there, you'd have to inspect close enough to see, but I do.
“I'm not going to wear any clothing that isn’t my own. I'll only wear something I want to wear, because I want to, not because someone tells me I have to. Or you can put your sign back outside.”
He's panting now and I catch myself before I lean forward and reach for him. It isn’t that he's breathing loud. You can't hear it. I can just see it from the rise and fall of his chest.
“Uniforms won't be necessary. We appreciate all the help we can get, you’re good to go man.”
Shaides eyes bore into Harlyn like he's putting together a puzzle. I know what he's thinking but Harlyn isn’t one of his pet projects, I'm sure of it. I'll prove it.
And that’s the only reason I end up behind the bar with him, having traded places with Rain today.
That’s the only reason.
∞∞∞
Harlyn is stupid good at slinging drinks and false compassion. The customers are eating him up. Not that I'm looking.
His smile looks so sincere it's disgusting because I can see it for what it is. Phony. Like a robot with an on and off switch. I mean seriously the guys face drops the second he turns his head and he’s hidden from their view.
I opened my mouth to ask something casual and give him a chance, the old college try and all that. Like ‘hey nice weather today yeah?’. Instead, when I speak I found myself suffering from assholism “What kind of person doesn't have a last name anyway?”
His head tilts towards me in a smooth like motion, almost graceful and he blinks entirely too slowly to be considered natural. When his lids blink open and those blue orbs gaze back at me in an assessing sort of way I tense. He appears to be tracing my physique, but not in appraisal. It feels threatening as if he's contemplating if he could take me or not. My lips twitch at the laughable thought. His inquiry catches the response and lingers. Then lingers some more.
My eyes dart here, there, and anywhere other than him while he stares at my parted lips. I just realize that last part and swiftly purse them.
It wasn’t where he was concerned, I just simply didn’t want to catch a bug. Nevertheless, whatever he sees has him humming in that soft sure way of his as he returns to his work. For some reason I believe the gentleness to his accent is the only genuine aspect he's bared thus far.
Ten minutes pass where Harlyn puts on a show that would bring movie directors to their knees, until he finally replies to me, voice light and airy.
“My mother’s methods were less than orthodox.”
He doesn't look at me while he speaks, just continues to wipe down the counter with a wet washcloth. “I was born at my childhood home and was not seen by a doctor of any kind, ever. As far as the world is concerned, Harlyn does not exist.”
I push off the bar and uncross my arms to pick up a washcloth as well. It was in that moment that I realized I hadn’t been working this whole time, just watching him like a freak. If he noticed he didn’t comment on it.
“And devil? Where does that come from?”
He side eyes me momentarily before continuing his duties. His head sways this way and that as if contemplating how much information he's willing to give me.
“It was a name I sort of picked up when I was a child. Just kind of stuck after that. I will answer to both.”
His voice does something strange to my insides. I would text Clarissa for a follow up after my check up earlier, but I fired her when she said it had been butterflies and not a heart attack. I determined she needs more schooling.
I'm scowling just thinking about it and remember that I haven't responded to Harlyn yet. When he glances at me, he lets out a soft and quiet sigh before turning to me fully and reaching out his hand as if to shake mine.
“Here, take it. If this is why you’ve seemingly relinquished your regular obligations, then take my hand and get on with it, then.”
His tone isn’t rude, but it houses no emotion to indicate how he feels about it. If he thinks letting me shake his hand is going to change my mind about his suspicious person, he's very wrong.
I sink my hand into his anyways and tense. His lithe fingers flex against my wrist. I can feel the calluses on his palms much like my own and I wonder where a gentle man could have gotten those from. A shiver tries to work its way up my arm, but I shake it off. It probably knows we are in the presence of a snake and wanted to warn me.
When I try to pull my hand away his hold grows tighter, not releasing me. My eyes flick up to his face and I freeze at what I find there. His brows are pulled together with his head coked to the side while he studies our joined hands. His gaze is contemplating at first, then shifts to curiosity.
As quick as Harlyn held me in place, he lets go and steps back with purpose, shoving his hands into his loose cargo pockets. I can see him flexing them as he does so, as if he’s restraining himself. From what, I'm not sure.
“Is that better?”
He says it on a whisper, and the energy’s changed in the large room.
Ten seconds ago, he’d paid no one a second glance, now he was looking at me intensely. An actual creepy amount of looking. Another ridiculously slow blink later and he gets back to work like that was an everyday occurrence on his part.
“What kinda person has a last name anyways?”
He fires the question back on me in a joking manner? Didn’t know uptight and guarded came with a humor setting.
“Ha Ha, very funny.”
I deadpan.
Before I can muster a retort, a drunk customer tries flagging one of us down and I fix the lapels on my white button up. “I got this one.”
I go to take a step in their direction, and I'm floored when a gentle hand settles on my chest.
“Don’t be scandalous. I'd wager you’ve never stepped foot behind a bar until today. I'll let you know if anyone needs a beer on tap.”
A cocky wink follows the words and his fingers brush across my chest as he walks past me to assist the customer.
When his voice raises with confidence like it did just then, he has a slight accent that I can't place. It's lingering softness ties my gut in knots, and I scowl having just realized his antagonizing dig. Or was it another joke?
The night goes on and as promised he calls when a beer on tap is needed. Other than a few brushes of our arms that scorch my skin here and there we don’t trade any words or looks. That is until now. It’s two AM and we’ve just finished the clean-up and deposit with Addy when Harlyn strides up to me with smooth determination.
“Well? Did I appease your reservations or am I in search of new employment?”
The guy must have never heard of the Hue family. If he had there’s no way he’d raise his delicate chin with such confidence in the face of one of us.
“I still don’t trust you. I think you came here with reason and I'm going to find out what that is.”
I decide to go with the truth and throw him off balance, only he doesn't miss a beat.
“Well then, if you look outside you may be able to locate the fuck I give.”
The glare I pin him with promises death and earns me a small brief smile.
“Goodnight Creek.”
He whispers before pocketing his hands and strolling out of the club without a backwards glance, leaving my eye twitchy.