Forrest

FORREST

“AHHH.” A deep groan broke from the Night Stalker Club office as I passed by.

Fucktastic!

A loud thud followed, vibrating the door. This was fucking ridiculous. Call me old-fashioned, but they could do it at home before they came over.

I quickened my pace toward the entrance of the rooftop. Sex noise didn’t surprise me, but considering my friends were the ones making those noises, it was awkward. I couldn’t listen to that. I couldn’t blame them if they wanted a quick fuck with their wives though. They had the best lives, but ignoring the stabbing pain settling in my chest was hard.

At the rooftop, the sun just sat down from the horizon. My eyes were steady as I watched the red, orange, and yellow colors before the twilight beckoning the sky. Those colors reminded me of fire, passion, danger, energy, happiness, and hope.

I leaned my elbows against the concrete parapet, flicked the ash from my cigarette, and breathed in the remaining inch I lit up while watching for the sun to set.

The lights started to scintillate around me to somehow light up the darkness surrounding the city. I stubbed the butt till it stopped smoking. Exhaust and city pollution came back to life.

I knew people said cigarette smoking was dangerous to your health, but this thing was a reminder that life wasn’t fair. People thought I was a weird shit to choose a deadly companion than a woman—that I didn’t have a beating organ in my body, that I was an ice king if that even existed. What they didn’t know was, I was a good guy, that I didn’t even like this another part of me, but it grew inside me already, and I had to embrace it for some reason.

The thing was, hard life taught me to be prepared.

The only question was, would I ever want to be that person anymore? The old version of myself—when I felt I was a better version of who I was today?

I walked down and met the nightclub manager, Kyland in the locker room. I quickly cleared my mind and pretended I didn’t hear what happened earlier.

“Bro.” He patted my back.

“Hey.” I wore my black button-down shirt and rolled each sleeve above my elbows. My tattoo peeked out. It was an orange flame full of anger with black smoke swirled from my wrists up to my arms.

“How’s your trip?”

“Great. Thanks for arranging my sched.”

“Anytime.”

“Got to go to work. Bills won’t pay itself.” I wore my black apron with the club logo and walked out.

The former notorious playboy, Pyke Hughes, the club owner didn’t give a damn about the uniform. I was glad he preferred black.

The main bar had its dimly-lit dived with only yellow lights emblazoned from the low ceiling. Monday was not the busiest, but the customers entered in somewhat rush as soon as the club sign lit open.

The music visualizer from the 3D walls created colorful particles in balls shaped that synchronized to the beat of the 90’s pop song played by the DJ from the booth towering the dance floor.

in a black dress ordered a dry martini, taking a seat on the dark barstool. Her makeup was simple as if she just came from long hours of work. She tapped her colorless perfectly manicured nails against the bar counter leisurely. Based on her dress, she

ice, gin, and vermouth I took from the back bar. I stirred it for a few seconds. Placing down the martini glass on the counter, I strained the mix and garnished it with olives. “Here you go, ma’am.”

She gave me a polite smile,

working for more than two years as a bartender, I’d learned quite a few, and not only on mixing drinks but also the different types of people; from rich kids, playboy, bad boy, flirt ladies, cheating husband, horny guys, brokenhearted, dirty business,

I placed down the order

lounge chair with a half-moon-shaped silver table. With only a red light illuminated around the

a blur. Sometimes, I wanted it that way—it made me forget something I had in mind for the time

for a while?” Kyland asked, opening a bottle of

I shook my head.

front of the bar

“That’s mine, man.”

chuckled inwardly. They were literally brothers-in-law

to offer back and laughed while Kyland was glaring back at him. “Then go grab another one.”

own, dude?” Kyland scowled.

into you, Wright? Does your wife not

if my memory served

“Leave her alone, Hughes!”

have shared women before. I had no idea. They quitted the moment they were in their serious relationship. I guessed people did change because no one had seen it coming that Pyke and Kyland

the hardcore kind, kinky, and dirty. Have you lost

you trying to liberate him?”

to figure him

or I was into dick, but who

shrugged it off. “My sexual

you’re not married, but I never saw you going out of the club with a woman either. Waiting for

wife. But I can assure you I have

and Pyke burst into laughter, high-fiving each other.

you ask for days off every last week of the

weekend or if it was not a work-related topic. I thought they respected my

subtly, seemed

black 2001 Chevy Camaro Z28. I checked my phone for a call from someone as soon as I got

played over the Bose speakers. I pulled

that no one would even notice. I inserted the key and pressed

to my preferences—black, gray, and white. The dark gray curtain was drawn to block the light from the outside of the floor to ceiling glass window.

slumped body to my authentic crocodile

mind went back to my phone. No call. I hit the number on my speed dial and it

ago about our proposed project, the Advanced Insulin Glucose Monitoring

much as I didn’t want to disappoint him, I couldn’t let his hope high. But if he believed in me and this project, I should at least believe in what we did. I knew Bill and his team worked their asses hard to get this deal. I just hoped

“We’re halfway through it. We could use

I cut off Bill. His brain was more than enough for the project,