18. LYRA
LYRA
P issed doesn’t even begin to explain how I’m feeling right now.
The entire street outside my apartment complex looks like a scene out of a disaster movie.
The sirens, the fire alarm blaring, and my neighbors with terror-filled faces huddled on the sidewalk under blankets.
Both ends of the street are closed off by fire trucks, and the police are taping off the block like a crime scene.
And standing right in the middle of it, red in the face, is my landlord, demanding an explanation.
He’s waving his arms around, while two firemen attempt to push him back.
They don’t have answers for him yet, but when they do, all eyes are going to turn to me and the very illegal dark room I’d built into my apartment.
It’s chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.
One could argue that it’s technically not my fault.
I mean, sure, I built the dark room and brought in all the chemicals to the building without my landlord’s permission, but after realizing there was an empty space behind the pantry and all I had to do was knock out one simple wall, what’s a girl to do?
The dark room was all but begging to be built, and I’m not one who likes to say no.
I’ve had it there for years, and if it weren’t for Maddox and his inability to keep his hands off of what isn’t his, we wouldn’t be in this mess, and I would be happily in my apartment, developing my pictures.
As for whose fault it is, I would very shamefully argue it’s the landlord’s. I pay my rent every month, and in return, he leaves me alone. He hasn’t done an inspection since the day I moved in at eighteen. Surely he has an obligation to ensure my home meets safety codes, whatever they might be.
Who am I kidding? I’m going to get my ass handed to me for this. But this is why I pay insurance, right? Though it likely doesn’t cover an illegal dark room. I might very well be up shit creek without a paddle on this one.
Either way, I have Black Velvet to fall back on. Now if I were to lose that, I’m not sure that’s something I could come back from.
I stand behind the police tape with ash covering my clothes and soot smeared across my skin, watching smoke continue to pour from the corner unit that used to be my home.
My home.
Jesus.
It’s all gone.
My life. My dark room. Every tray. Every shelf.
Every late night developing my memories into a physical photograph just disintegrated into flames.
That’s years of work. Years of memories.
Years of peace. All of it destroyed because Maddox Blake has the impulse control of a golden retriever with access to fireworks.
And to think I was starting to see a future with him. All I see now is my fists pummeling his dick over and over again with the perfect scrotum sandwich, and just as his testicles start to descend back into his balls, I’ll hit him again.
That stupidly loveable asshole. If he wasn’t such a wild flirt with a grin that could bring me to my knees, I would have already ended him.
Watching as more first responders fly into the building, the knot in my chest tightens.
I shouldn’t think about it. Shouldn’t think about the lost negatives, or the questions I’m about to be faced with.
I can’t handle it. Not tonight.
My gaze shifts from the building, to my neighbors, then to the policemen lining the street, and finally back to Maddox and Hunter, who are sitting on the hood of Hunter’s Challenger, staring up at the wreckage.
I wasn’t the only one who lost my home today. Hunter’s is gone too. Not to the same disastrous extent as mine. With a few months of contractors working their asses off, his apartment could see the light of day again. Mine is currently just an empty hole in the wall.
God, I can’t handle this. I don’t have the emotional capacity to hold myself together right now. I need to crumble, and I need to do it somewhere I feel safe, and after that, I need to lose myself in work. It’s the only thing that’s going to get me through today.
As my landlord starts up another screaming match with the fire chief, I quietly slip into the chaos, sinking backward and disappearing into the gathered crowd so silently that nobody notices, not even the two morons who haven’t stopped gaping at the wreckage we just escaped.
I start walking, block after block, until the sound of the fire trucks fades into a distant hum, and before I know it, I’m standing at the back door of Black Velvet just as two Harley Davidsons pull into the alley, the engines so loud my brain rattles inside my head.
Stepping away from the door, I walk up to Dean and Marcus, hoping like fuck they remembered to bring a set of keys, seeing as though mine are likely melted into scrap metal.
Marcus is the first to get off his bike, his gaze snapping to me and scanning over me from head to toe, and I almost cringe, knowing what he must see.
Soot clumped in my unbrushed hair, ash covering my skin, no shoes or pants. Hell, I don’t even recall if I remembered to put underwear on under Maddox’s massive shirt. All that mattered was leaving that place.
“Jesus Christ,” Marcus grunts, freezing as he watches me. “The fuck happened to you?”
Dean’s head snaps up at Marcus’ tone, and my shoulders slump. “I had a rough morning.”
“Lyra,” Marcus warns, not in the mood to fish for answers.
I sigh. “My apartment exploded,” I explain. “You know the dark room you guys helped me build a few years back?”
They each nod, and I let out a heavy breath. “Chemical reaction gone wrong,” I tell them, not willing to explain just how that happened. “Managed to take out my whole apartment and part of the one across from me.”
“Fucking hell,” Dean mutters, pushing his hand back through his hair. “Anybody get hurt?”
I shake my head. “Only my pride.”
Marcus scrunches his face. “Shit, girl. You need anything? Clothes? Food? I know better than to offer you my couch, but I’ll have my old lady come drop you off a survival pack.”
“No, no,” I say, holding up my hands. “I don’t want Bri to go to any trouble. I can have all of that figured out tomorrow. For now, I just want to clean up and work.”
Dean sputters. “You want to work?”
“Damn right I do,” I tell him.
Marcus mutters something under his breath before making his way toward the back entrance of Black Velvet and pulling his keys out of his pocket. He fiddles with the door for a while before finally getting it open and swinging it wide.
“Go shower, Lyra,” he says, “And take some painkillers. You might not need them now, but later tonight once that music comes on, you’re gonna thank me.”
I nod and stride past him. “Thanks. I will.”
The staff bathroom sits tucked away behind the office, complete with a small shower that mostly exists for emergencies. Turns out having your apartment explode qualifies.
I step into the hot water, and while it washes away the soot, ash, and dust, it doesn’t do anything for the heartbreak that grows like a physical pain in my chest. It doesn’t bring back my home, my bed, my photographs, and it sure as hell doesn’t bring me back my peace.
But I’ll rebuild. I always figure myself out. No matter what.
I stand under the spray for way too long, doing everything I can not to think about what I’ve lost, but it’s a losing battle, and when it becomes too much, I shut the water off and get dressed into a Black Velvet cropped uniform tank.
There’s a pair of black ripped jeans in my office, and while I’ll have to forego underwear, that’s not entirely a problem.
There’s a hairbrush and a small makeup kit for emergencies in my desk drawer, and after twenty minutes, I’ve managed to pull myself together enough to look presentable to work the bar for the night.
It’ll be the perfect distraction.
By the time I’m stepping out onto the floor and moving in behind the bar, my usual Black Velvet persona is back and thriving. I have my attitude as my greatest weapon, a flirty smile, and my walls are firmly back in place.
Nothing is breaking me down tonight.
The usual Friday night crowd rushes in, and it’s enough to keep me occupied with orders.
I have to perform my sexy Britney “Toxic” dance at least three times, and I even get the pleasure of slapping the shit out of someone who approaches the bar with the code word of the week, looking for the famous Velvet Slap.
I’m just starting to feel like myself, vibing to the music, generally enjoying my night, when I feel the tension shift in the air, and I glance up only to immediately regret surviving the blast.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, irritation burning through me as I find both Maddox and Hunter standing by the entrance, their dark, twisted stares locked on me.
Hunter looks the same as usual. Calm, collected, and the perfect blend of asshole mixed with just the right amount of drop-dead gorgeousness that makes you forget why you hated him in the first place and accidentally let him fuck your ass in the shower with cherry-scented lube.
Maddox on the other hand. He looks like his whole world just came crashing down, which is ironic, because it was my whole world that came crashing down. Literally.
They make their way toward the bar and Maddox holds my stare like a man walking toward his own execution, and I find myself scoffing. I hope he’s terrified.
They weave through the people, and the closer they get, the more I realize that Maddox doesn’t look terrified at all. He looks smug, like he’s up to something, and before my stomach can even finish dropping right out of my ass, they reach the end of the bar.
I shake my head, already dreading what’s about to happen, when Maddox steps right up to the bar and pulls himself on top of it, towering over my customers.
People start cheering when he holds his hand out toward Hunter and that dread only grows when Hunter hands him a single long-stemmed rose.
“Fine ladies and gentleman of the jury,” he announces to my bar. “I have been a foolish man who has made mistakes. Very terrible mistakes. Catastrophic mistakes. But I am here tonight to make amends, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Oh, no,” I mutter to myself.
The crowd cheers. If only they knew the fucker burned down my home.
“Tonight, I shall win back the affection of my one true love.”
Men wolf-whistle from the crowd, and I shake my head while reaching for the baseball bat I keep under the bar.
Maddox places the rose between his teeth, and I let out a sigh, but it’s too late, there’s nothing I can do.
The wild animal otherwise known as Maddox Blake is already in motion, sprinting down the length of my bar, giving people only a moment’s notice to save their drinks before dropping to his knees and sliding like a damn Magic Mike performer until finally coming to a stop right before me, that rose still locked tightly between his teeth.
The crowd is in his corner, but I don’t care. And as he takes the rose from between his teeth and goes to hand it to me, I rear back with the baseball bat and start swinging.
“Oh fuck,” Maddox grunts, quickly ducking and narrowly missing the bat.
“YOU,” I grunt, swinging again. “BURNED.” Swing. “MY APARTMENT DOWN!”
Maddox dodges the bat like a pro, and when I try again, his hand whips up, catching the bat with ease. “I’m sorry, Savage,” he says, his heart on his sleeve, but the audacity to catch my bat mid swing only pisses me off more, and I rip it out of his hands.
“Let me beat the shit out of you.”
“You’re right,” he says with a nod. “I deserve it. Take another swing.”
I don’t hesitate, and I rear back again before letting him have it, only his stupid reflexes cut in again, catching the bat midair. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to catch it. It just happens. Go again. Promise, this time you can really get me.”
I go again, but his hand snaps out just inches from his head. “FUCK! Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Frustration gets the best of me, and I throw the bat aside before launching myself at him instead, giving him everything I’ve got as we tumble off the bar and onto the floor around my customers.
People start chanting, but I don’t know what for. All I’m focused on is making Maddox hurt as much as I am, but honestly, the fucker just looks like he’s enjoying every bit of my wild attack. I don’t land a single bitch slap before a strong arm wraps around my waist and hauls me off Maddox.
“You done, Savage?” Hunter questions, slamming my ass down on the bar, purposely standing between me and Maddox. I don’t know what he’s thinking, though. He knows I don’t have a problem going through him to get to his best friend.
“Not even close.”
Maddox gets to his feet and peers at me over Hunter’s shoulder. “I swear, Savage. I’m really fucking sorry. If there’s anything I could do to fix this, you know I would.”
My chest sinks, my heart crumbling into a million tiny pieces, and it only pisses me off more. I’m not somebody who cries, especially not in a place like this, surrounded by all my employees and customers, but Maddox has a way of bringing these wild emotions out of me.
“Let me take you home tonight,” Maddox says.
“You can crash with me until we get you a new apartment figured out. I’ll get you everything you need.
Clothes, makeup, a new phone. I’ll cover everything.
I’ll deal with your insurance and your landlord.
Trust me, you won’t need to do a thing. Just give me a chance to make this right. ”
“In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m an eye for an eye kinda girl,” I tell him. “The only way this is right is if I get to burn down your house.”
His eyes widen. “Please don’t.”
I huff and look away. If it weren’t for Smooch, I’d probably be there right now dancing in the flames.
Maddox pushes past Hunter, deciding I’ve calmed down enough to risk getting close. His hands come down on my thighs, and I hate how much I crave his touch. “Do you still want to kill me?”
I look him dead in the eye. “Yes.”
“Fuck.”
I let out a sigh. “Relax. If I actually wanted you dead, you’d already be a hit coming up on Hunter’s phone.”
He grins, thinking I’m making a joke, but as I stare him down, he slowly inches his stare toward Hunter. “Wait. You think she’s serious.”
Hunter just nods. “Yeah, man,” he says, both of the guys now looking back at me as if discovering something about me they never knew existed. “I really fucking do.”