Neon Red: Chapter 20-22

Britney was a sexy female vampire who knew what she had, as did most, if not all persons she encountered. Low flirted, charming her in minutes. He watched that perky ass without being shy about it. And ooooff course, she gave her number with ease. What world was he living in?
AB competing with his own secretary, hm. Well Miss Universe had better get in line or he’d fire her pretty ass. She wasn’t about to take lead in this here movie, hell no.
Jaxon Aubrey was the starring bitch up in here. Young tramp.
“—if that’s it.”
“Oh shit, my bad, Tracy. What did you say?”
“I said, if we’re wrapped up here then…”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
As AB stood, his ten O’Clock followed suit. “You wanna take a look at the office?”
“Why not? Is it as nice as yours?”
“Hell yeah, but there’s nothing in it aside from boxes.”
Their party made an exit with Low tailing. The whore uttered something to Britney in passing. She ought to revise her resume.
“As you can see,” AB said, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “The lobby, so to speak, is expansive.” Stopping at Tracy’s future office, he pointed to the right. “Around the corner, is the break room and bathrooms. We have guest and private. There is a quiet nook as well, for a minute of peace or reading.
“And to the left, is our conference room, but it’s completely useless. This isn’t a fortune five hundred company. Uhhm, oh, there’s also a file room and storage for cleaning supplies.”
AB pushed the frosted, sliding door aside and sauntered into the barren space.
“This, Tracy, will be where you do whatever it is you do. You have a corner suite, panoramic views, high- shine pine floors throughout, and thirty-foot ceilings. No offense, but you will pay for your own wifi and internet access. It’s safer that way.”
Staring at the hustling life below, AB shoved hands into his slacks. He lacked patience at the moment. Low’s scent traveled and rolled like an angry storm cloud. Bergamot, Old Spice and Shea Butter. He knew what to wear because nothing clashed on his skin. Each heady note caressed the other, and had AB on the brink of madness for hours. He wanted another piece. Had assumed he didn’t. Walked away without a care in the world, until those lonely daylight hours set in and he couldn’t think of anything, or anyone else.
Max and Low were indeed a package deal.
“What do you think?” AB asked, on the turn about. “There’s more than enough room.”
“Oh, I’m all in. No complaints.” Tracy smiled, or grinned, maybe. It was lopsided and painful.
Dear god, did the man ever stop frowning?
“Perfect.” AB made way towards his new buddy and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just hit me when you’re set to move in.”
“Will do, I’ll get started on furnishings promptly. I may bring Jaya, she has a marvelous eye for interior design.”
“Swell. Now, I don’t wanna rush you out. But I have a lunch date.”
Tracy nodded and marched onward. “No no, I don’t want to hold you. We’ll talk in a few days.”
AB loomed near Britney’s desk to keep the flirting duo at a professional distance. He waved and watched as Low stalked behind Tracy. When the pair vanished, he ripped his phone from a pocket.
“Britney, I’m going out. Let me know if anyone comes in. If not, I’ll be here in time for my one-thirity.”
“Yes, sir.” She grinned like a back stabber.
He returned the expression but headed for the door with eyes and thumbs on his phone. Sending a text, AB didn’t expect a reply, but received one anyway.
Low: What is this?
Jaxon wrote back as he stabbed the call button.
AB: It’s my address. Do what you want with it.
He smirked, staring at the other small silver circle. AB grunted and punched it. Back to their convo, he snickered as a text came through.
“What?” Stepping in the elevator, he frowned at the straight face emoji Low sent. “What does that mean?”
AB poked the letter B and groaned jabbing a finger into the five, six, seven, eight—
“Stop it Mr Aubrey.” An ominous, disembodied tinny voice blared overhead. “Please stop…stop, do—”
He stabbed nine.
“I can’t stop, it’s like I—”
“Mr Aubrey you will be fined fifty do—”
He squealed, stashed his phone and swiped over every button until the panel glowed like a bright Christmas tree. With a ding, AB tore ass out of the cube.
“I’m sooorrry, Jerrrry!” he yelled, gunning for his car. Jerry was only human but he was a mean old man who liked to poison people. There’d been some disappearances and AB was sure Jerry did it. The security guard hated this one guy who came in loud and threw cigarette butts on the lobby floor.
Mother fucker vanished.
The lady with the dog that pooped all over the place? She never cleaned it up.
One night, she stopped showing up. Her and the dog.
Coincidence? Hell nah. AB was a vampire who’d break every bone in Jerry’s body, but he was a terrifying geezer with a gun. And, and! He’d shoot AB dead in the street if given the chance.
In the whip and in a hurry he made tires scream through the garage. Ab didn’t have time like that, he needed to make a stop. Not for no lunch date either, well that depended on what he ate. Laughing like a mad man, he smashed uptown to Miami Beach. In a matter of minutes, he parked in front of Chase, hopped out, and stomped straight for Ink in Hell.
There was a group of teenagers and a middle-aged dame waiting to get marked up. He had an appointment so they’d wait a little longer.
“You’re back again, I see.” The dark haired goth girl smirked.
Leaning on the counter AB grinned. “I am.”
“Well, Jaxon, we are kinda busy here, and unless you have—”
“I do have an appointment. With Max.”
The female shook her head. “You do not. I have a book here that says,” she flipped open the thing and tapped on a page, “Tucker. You, are not Tucker. I can’t fit you in with Max, but nice try.”
Diving into a deep pocket, AB smiled. He retrieved his wallet and searched for the right slip of plastic.
“Here we go.” After snapping the ID free, he showcased it for her thorough examination.
“Wowww, yeah. That’s slick. She wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. You’re a sneaky one. My name is Ndari, by the way. And Max is my best friend of thirty-five years, so take it easy. Have a seat, she’s almost done.”
AB stashed the card and found himself waiting with everyone else. He peered at works of art and thought how perfect each piece was. Art, of highest order. People entered and observed. They left, only to return minutes later.
He noted Jordan, a burly male who wasn’t shy. And a blonde named Chrissy, who put Barbie to shame. They were a loud lively crew, who kept him entertained.
At least eight songs played before Max appeared.
“Get out.” She flapped a hand then pointed at the door.
“That’s some rude shit, I’m a paying customer. Yours, actually.”
“You ain’t no paying nothing,” Max hissed. “You really stalking me now. I’m busy, I have an appointment.”
Ndari grimaced and said, “He is your appointment.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he showed his ID.”
“Let me see it.” Max scoffed, pointed at AB and crooked a finger. “Come here, show it to me. Lying ass.”
“Yup.”
Victory put some sauce in his stride, as if wanting to fuck her senseless didn’t move him. AB committed to the same routine and supplied his identification.
Max snatched it. “You sneaky son of a bitch. Huh.” Throwing it at him, she sighed. “What are you getting?”
“I want, ‘aspire and inspire’ right here.” He smacked a tiny, pale blotch just above his clavicle and Max snarled.
“Are you serious? That’s corny, bruh.”
“I’ll get what I want,” he snapped, leveraging weight on the counter.
AB stared at his own reflection. Despite the dark glasses, her glare burned his face.
“The customer is always right. Don’t argue with me.”
“Pfft, I don’t follow such guidelines up in here. Give me a second to write it out.”
He grinned. “Of course.”
AB stayed put as she gathered a few things. Some type of illuminated glass plate and paper. Max worked quickly, vampire efficiency came in clutch. She used a calligraphy pen like a master. The way her lips moved while smacking on that gum got him tight.
“How’s this?”
She spun the drawing and AB whistled.
“I have no words. It’s elegant, yet, masculine. Sharp and soft. It’s perfect. I want it.”
“Come on.”
“Don’t you need to trace it s?”
“I don’t do that. I draw right on transfer paper.”
“Oh.”
The trip was short as they stopped in a small room. It was much like many other tattoo parlors he’d seen.
“Take your shirt off.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He handled cuffs, shirt tails, and buttons in seconds. After which, Ab sat in the chair, anticipating her touch.
Max dropped onto a rolling stool and drew near. She wagged a finger and said, “You think you cute, and slick, but you aren’t. Low just texted me, and you, wow…chiiile.”
She tilted his chair back with the push of a button and snapped on gloves.
“I could have sworn you were A-okay, Jaxon.” The woman used her speed again, shaving the area and cleaning it.
“Can’t I have a change of heart?” AB asked.
“I suppose, what’s your color?”
“I don’t know, I don’t care. Surprise me.”
“Next to extra cheese please,” Max grinned, applied the ink ointment shit and pressed the paper to his skin, “those are my favorite words to hear.”
“I thought they were ‘turn over’.” AB chuckled while she smoothed wrinkles out of the parchment.
“You want me to punch you in the face?”
“If that’s what you gotta do.”
She groaned, peeled the thin sheet from his flesh and smirked. “A clean transfer.”
This female was mean and snappy, but she had a lovely voice and dewy painted skin. A glowing deep amber he wanted to kiss and admire.
Truth be told, she had AB fucked up. Where did she get the gall? Clouding his judgment and ruining his focus.
AB didn’t fuck with flighty, forgetful, and poor.
“You ready?”
“Whenever you are,” he whispered.
Max swiveled, dipped the needle in whatever color and returned. “Don’t move.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Gross. Don’t ma’am me.”
As the tattoo machine buzzed, she leaned forward and made contact. The subtle pinch felt good. AB had something like forty-eight tats. The sensation was the norm and he enjoyed the atmosphere. A humming motor of moving parts, hushed chatter, and music were common.
He’d had a hundred sessions, but this one was different. AB sifted through various notes, and sounds, searching for Max’s thrumming heartstrings.
“Why are you nervous?”
“Shut up,” Max demanded.
He smiled and cut from the ceiling to her hovering head. Decadent aromas swirled, he inhaled in greedy gulps.
Gardenia, Dove, and Shalamar. Old school and alluring. Max shot upward to wipe and swap needles.
“I like your hair like this,” AB said.
“Boy, I don’t care what you like.”
“Who asked? I’m gonna tell you anyway. I like your hair curly. It looks good with the two-tone thing you got going.”
She dipped again and returned, the added pressure satisfied him immensely.
“It takes some work to get it like this, though,” Max muttered into his shoulder.
A rush of warm air against his flesh was too much and not nearly enough. AB bit his bottom lip and buckled down on a vicious purr.
“What is it? Flexirods? Curl wand?”
“What—” Lifting her head, Max paused. “What you know about that shit?”
“’Cause I fuck with it too,” AB snapped. “I like curls sometimes. You apply Pump It Up, or mousse, and heat. Fluff that shit and you got curls for days. But, a curling iron is still my staple.”
Max giggled. The sexy melody reverberated through him. Leaning again, she blew a fat bubble smelling of sweet watermelon ‘til it popped.
“You know what?” Max mused. “I don’t think you need allat. You have a ridiculous amount of volume already.”
“I do, but sometimes I want ringlets, you know. I think I’m gonna straighten my hair next week. I want a glossy flat panel look.”
She grunted. “Laying in on thick, are we?”
“I wasn’t trying to, but if it works…”
Max didn’t say anything for some time. She switched needles and wiped in silence.
“You really tryin’ to mess with this, Red?”
“I’m here.”
“That’s not what I asked. You are spreading yourself pretty thin. And we don’t, I don’t, got time for no bull shit.” She sat up, meeting his eyes with her shades. “I don’t care about who, or what you do when you’re not with me, and I expect the same courtesy. We are wayyyy too grown, especially you. Let’s keep it simple, honey, okay?”
Max turned, grabbed the balm and spread it over his ink.
“I have too much going on,” she continued. “And from what I hear, you have black bags and cargo ships. I don’t got no business fucking with somebody like you. But, I can’t help myself. Being with the shit is in my nature.”
As his chair ascended slowly, in automated fashion, Max removed her gloves. “We’re done here. That’ll be two-fifty, and twenty percent gratuity. Three hundred out the door, Big Red. Go on, take a look.”
AB sighed on his rise, faced the mirror, and gawked. “You little shit.”
“What? You said—”
“Fuck off,” he yelled, while she snickered. The words were beautiful. The colors, however, ruined his aesthetic. She blended with precision. From a dark, royal purple to a blush pink that ended in a bright turquoise.
“I’m gonna kill you,” AB intoned. “Are any of my tattoos purple or pink?”
“What the hell? Boy you said ‘surprise me’, I did.”
“You crackin’ wise?”
“No, grandpa.” She snorted again.
He sat in the chair, pulling her and the stool over.
“Excuse me?”
With hands in her hair and lips pressed, AB explored. She tasted like honeysuckle. Shutting Max up was of the utmost importance, but more so, he wanted her. Wide open. Legs and arms latched onto him through long, blazing summer days indoors.
His heart kicked and lungs stalled but he made a mess of their connection. Savage and sweet, she simpered, slouching into him. When AB had Max right where he wanted her, he snipped their tether.
Struggling for oxygen and unable to think clearly, he listened to her hard, punching breaths.
“Are you gonna come over?” AB asked.
“I do—what? I don’t have—”
“Ask Low,” he commanded, freeing her from his grasp. “He has my address.”
AB stood, gathered his shirt and slipped it on. Max sat there, on the stool, staring;dazed.
Her fang tips were far too visible.
“You wanna put those away? Might scare your customers.”
“They think it’s cosmetic.” She shrugged. “They’re an upsell, along with my tiddies.”
Her breathy reply was pleasant to the ears. She’d be putty in his hands like the rest.
“Smart, I’ll let you get to it.”
Tucking his shirt, AB left Max with her stuttering thoughts. What fun, the art of seduction. And now, he had two on the line to cast a spell on. Damn, AB was an old bitch, but he still knew how to reel ‘em in..

Max stabbed off twice and nothing happened. “What the f—Oh.” After putting the Jeep in park, she smashed the damned button, snatched her bag and jumped out. She hustled quick as possible, running into the house. She hustled into her room, kicking clothes and shucking Crocs.
In a blur of movements, she lost bottom and top layers on her way to the bathroom.
Soap, scrub, and face to kill two birds.
Shaving required time she didn’t have, but committed nonetheless. Her coochie was looking rough around the edges.
Damn it all.
Their rule or whatever the hell it was. She was ’bouta get double stuffed and busted open.
When Red entered her shop, Max wanted to take him down where he stood. Big sexy self, barging in like he owned the god damn world. She put on for the team, and played a gooooooood game.
Nope, no dice.
Max cleared the stall, snagged a towel and swept it over her steaming skin. Body butter followed. It was a whip she made from scratch. African Shea, coco butter, and rose water. Glistening and soft, she scurried for the closet.
Thin lace was the plan Black and bold, see through and scantily.
Next was a summer dress with sandals. Come on now, she wasn’t playing. Max moisturized her face, brushed teeth, and added lashes within seven minutes. A matte plum lip made her pop off.
On the run, she stabbed bamboos into her ears and filled a spennanight bag.
Sketch book, purse, charger annnnnd…
“Rose quartz.” For romantic energies.
Zooming on her way out, she turned everything off and ran into Jaya.
“Where is the fire, girl?”
“Sorrrry,” Max chimed in passing. “I gotta go.”
“It’s four-fifteen, Maxine!”
Looking back, she smiled and said, “I know, I’ll be indoors soon. I swear. I love you.”
“I love you too, but please text me when you get in.”
“I will.”
She opened the door just in time. The Monte Carlo pulled up loud, slapping Steelo. Max slid into the passenger seat with a fiendish giggle. “Go go go.”
Busting a u-turn, Low knew what time it was. They had roughly forty-minutes to get inside.
Throwing her bags in the back, she saw his duffel on the seat and snickered. “Oh my god, I almost slipped in the shower.”
“You and me boff.” He smiled around the blunt and said, “This isn’t smart, Maxi.”
“Then it’s a good thing we a couple of dumb asses, huh?”
Low choked on smoke and jumped on 836 East. He was right, though, this wasn’t an intelligent decision. Agreeing to another tryst in the wee hours of the morning was what demon dick did to you. It had yo’ ass rushing to beat the crack of dawn for it. Risking your life for a bite.
The word DRAMA flashed like a blazing neon billboard in her mind.
“Do you think he was being honest about the drug dealer thing?” Max asked. “Why is he an accountant if he’s moving weight?”
Low kept eyes on the road and changed songs ‘til landing on Ball Greezy. Song Cry resonated with them, and how sad was that. She thought of it as their ghetto ‘love song’.
“I know the look,” Low muttered. “Most D-boys don’t lie about shit like that. Claiming to be a don is a waste of time. Don’t nobody really want the responsibility. Folks who been in the game like me? Nah.”
Low shook his head and changed lanes without a blinker, ‘cause four-fifteen reared its head. Sunrise was at five-oh-five.
“It’s a hard life,” Low added. “Watching your back with money on the line. He gotta answer to somebody who answer to somebody. I wouldn’t wanna do the shit. It is not, for the average, baby. And I’m all about my money, but not desperate enough to where I’d deal with that shit again. No thank you.”
She admired his profile, loving how far Low had come and how he turned his whole life around. She loved his rough edges, but looked at his progress as an inspiration. He had a dark past, yeah. But who didn’t?
Low was a good man, to her, to his brothers, and he protected her father. For a paycheck, albeit, but being a bodyguard was honorable. The job required a special kind of person. Someone courageous and compassionate enough to put their life on the line for another.
She smiled something tough.
“What?”
“You’re resilient is all,” Max proclaimed, meaning every word. Low beamed, grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m serious. You beat the odds, and made it out alive with the world against you. And you did it by yourself, without an ounce of support. But I swear to god, Elliot, as long as I live, you’ll never be alone again.”
Low didn’t care to breach certain discussions. Not that he was callous or aloof. The problem here, was his heart. It was exhausted and overworked. Battered, in pieces, and encased in steel.
Low didn’t respond thanks to his aching heart. He couldn’t. The hurt was too deep. Past indiscretions she had nothing to do with told Low, she was bullshitting. Memories and trauma whispered in his ear, telling him Max was a liar.
She wished he believed her, but words were cheap. They meant nothing, so she’d show him. Come hell or high water, Low would see her fealty.
Ten years for an aged vampire didn’t amount to shit but a drop in the bucket, as they say. Their road would never be easy. Max was beyond fucked up. And what were they doing right now? Adding another level of complexity to a situationship rife with adversity.
“Where does he live?” Max asked.
Low pulled the blunt from his lips and said, “Collins.”
“Seriously?” she grimaced.
“That’s what he said.”
“Damn, I never been inside a place on Collins.”
“Our kind ride through, we don’t stop.”
Max scoffed. Maybe he was a drug dealer. Any and everything on Collins was in the multi-million territory. Not just one M nope, definitely plural. Her dad was well off, always had been. Comfortable, but not piss hundreds stable. More like college tuition paid, and a pair of Gucci loafers twice a year. set.
“His attire makes sense now,” Max grumbled.
“I’m tellin’ you, that man sported Patek. But I was like, it’s prolly leased or old, fake or stolen. Nahhhhh, it’s real.”
As butterflies invaded and exploded in her belly they made an exit on Alton. According to the hoe on Google their destination was on the left.
“This might be a set up for shooting him.” Max gulped, she was dead ass.
Low giggled and snuffed his blunt. “Baby, if anything, he finna beat my ass for calling his last batch of weed doodoo.”
“Why whou—” She smacked his arm. “Why would you tell him that?!”
“’Cause he getting away with murder! The Zeus Blue strain is terrible. Shit gotta stop. I paid too much for it last time, and for whaaaat? A whack ass high. Stick and stems baby…sticks and stems.”
She heard what he was saying but had eyes out the window when he made a louie into L’Atelier. She smashed on by the building a hundred times since its erection in 2017. Max knew of its predecessor, though. Golden Sands Hotel.
Originally named Bombay.
Everybody who was somebody jigged up in there. Rat Pack days were ones to see in Miami. Ella, Frank, Sammy, and Dean had Sands on lock. She missed the era, strictly for its entrainment. Nothing more.
The moment they stopped in front, a lady ran around to the driver side. Max tapped switches and dropped it.
Any ol’ body wasn’t about to touch her shit. The valet’s amazement came to a head when she asked for a picture of his car. Low allowed it, grabbed the ticket and his bag while Max got hers.
“Valet,” Low uttered as he slung the the duffel across his body. “Fancy.”
“Where does he stay?” Max asked.
He emerged, hurried to her side and took hold of her palm. “He said the top.”
“As in penthouse?”
“Yeah.”
Max entered the fine establishment with a lax jaw. She’d never been in a penthouse, but knew they were opulent. The lobby was quiet. No music and no talking. Just the sound of their squeaky soles echoing in the large lavish cave. Damn near five am meant no foot traffic, aside from their late night creeping.
Max nodded at the security guard. He waved from behind his big desk as they hit a quick left.
She poked the elevator call button and sighed. “You think he has food?” Max whimpered, rubbing her tummy. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too, we shoulda ate. This ain’t no dinner date. It’s a slide, baby, he not finna offer us caviar.”
She frowned and hopped in the waiting lift. “Penthouse it is.”
Pressing the PH, doors closed and off they went. Upwards, into the sky, and above the horizon growing lighter by the second.
“Whew, sixteen floors,” Max said, oddly impressed. “I stayed at the Ritz Carlton. Up on Bal Harbor. That was nice.”
Low grimaced. “When the hell you stay at the Ritz?”
“You remember the wedding? For one of my dads employees about two years ago?”
“Oh right, right. I ain’t know you stayed at the Ritz, though.”
“Yeah, talk about classy. Sworvorski and platinum. It was a time, honey. I had fun.”

Low bobbed his head but wasn’t engaged in their conversation, on account of the butterflies. He needed the whole blunt, not half. Needed a whole zip, not an eighth to calm this bout of bad nerves. Low stood in the elevator watching numbers ascend.
The closer they got, the more he had to piss. Low grew anxious for many reasons. One of them being, laying eyes on Red in general. It wasn’t getting easier. And two, this was their third encounter after, the sex.
This never happened. Max was the only person he saw concurrently.
Low filled their separations with one-night stands. He had reasons for that as well, and didn’t want to scrutinize the decision. Doing so might tell him something he already knew, but was unprepared and unwilling to accept.
A pleasant ding said they arrived, and the moment them doors parted his jaw dropped. “Damn.”
He’d never seen a view like the one before him. Cautiously, Low and Max shuffled out of the elevator and crossed a sweeping threshold. With front doors ajar, he assumed they were welcome.
“Oh my god,” Max said, amazed.
The balcony shutters were open, giving them a magnificent view of the ocean. Velvety black but lightening by the second. His eyes blurred and skin tingled with a rapidly approaching sunrise.
“We on top of the world, Maxi.”
“Unhuh.”
She nodded as everything got swallowed up. The tall and wide terrace disappeared behind tinted panels.
“Awwww come onnnn,” Max whined. It was good, though, ‘cause Low rather not be burned alive. Places like these had too many god damn windows, and he wondered if the tint was enough. A resounding whir and clanking of metal soothed his worries.
“Ohhhh. Steel blinds. Smart.”
“Hell yeah.” He agreed and released her hand. Spinning around, Low’s eyes lifted to high ceiling and light fixtures casting a warm, caramel glow. Clean cut and modern. Sexy and chic. Much like Red’s office, muted tones were propped up against off-white backdrops.
The staircase, a splash of black in an otherwise serene space, wrapped around yet another lift.
“Imma use the elevator,” Low muttered. “He got too many damn stairs.”
“Same.”
There was rich, then there was whatever Red’s pocket were lined with. And if Low judged by the foyer alone, he’d say Red was loaded. Muhfucka made bank. Quite possibly owned one.
It smelled of expensive decor, sea salt, mens cologne, and dogs.
“Dogs?”
“Dogs?” Max asked, as she veered left, heading for the bar.
“Yeah, dogs.”
A big bear horse looking beast came barking and growling. It barreled straight for them and Max yelped. She took off, darting for the stairs. As the big one galloped a tinier, angrier, fat one trailed and barked.
Low held out his hands and screamed.
“Hay! Heel! Heel! Sit! Get your dogs, bruh!” He joined Max in climbing the stairs ‘cause he heard their clawed fucking paws.
She almost slipped on the first landing, but Low had her back. After picking up shortie, they reached the mezzanine and made a quick right. Low hustled down the hall and pushed through the first door he saw.
Slamming it with a foot, he cackled and set Maxi down.
“Oh my god.” She giggled and snorted. “I don’t wanna kill his dog.”
“Me either, I love dogs. Just not ones that wanna eat me. You seen the big one? He could fuck up a whole German Shepherd.”
“Why didn’t he hear you?”
“I don’t know, baby. Shit, hol’ up. Lemme call him right quick.”
Low dove into a denim pocket, snagged the IOS and tapped. Waiting for an answer, he sauntered around the washroom fit with a Whirlpool. He scoffed and touched a thick, luxurious towel.
Red answered with exasperation. “Let me guess, something came up?”
“What? Nah. Man, get your fucking guards. We stuck in the bathroom.”
There was something like laughter on the other end. “Oooh, yeah. Uhm, okay. My fault.”
Red killed the call and Low grunted. “I like how he sound on the phone.”
Max hopped up on the counter and smiled. “You can go first this time.”
“I mean, if you want me to.” As her legs kicked, Low slipped between them and kissed her plump lips. “You just wanna watch.”
“True.”
“Freak nasty hoe.”
“I ain’t never denied it.”
Low kissed her nose and wanted to bottle the scent unique to Max. She fashioned her own creams and butters for years. Long before it was on trend. The high floral scent she naturally had tag teamed other shit. It never failed to make him hard. As if her soft body, sultry lilt, and lovely smile wasn’t enough.
“Is that Victoria Monet?” he asked, as music spilled into the bathroom from outta nowhere. “Oh hell nah, he really finna put you in coma, Max.”
She started singing along to F.U.C.K and Low snickered when they heard Red’s deep, silken timbre. Somebody was ’bouta get fucked ‘ight, ‘cause Low was stiff, all up in the dick area. He picked Max up again, only to help her down.
“Y’all can come out,” Red said, chuckling.
What was funny? Shortie opened the door and Low swayed on his feet while she leaned against him. A vision to be had. Damp, burly, and bare. Red was busy. That’s why he didn’t hear anything. He was getting wet. Fresh out the shower, with dripping hair and a low hanging towel. What Low wanted to do to this man was obscene and depraved.
Low purred a little, it was uh assident. He pushed Maxi out first.
“Don’t be shoving me, them dogs are right there.”
Red smiled and said, “They’re not gonna bite you.”
“They is!” Low declared with the big black horse giving him an evil eye. “Look at him, he wanna bite my fat ass, I see it.” Max laughed while Low tried not to. “Don’t lau…it ain’t funny, baby.”
“I swear,” Red stressed. “They don’t bite. I don’t raise guard dogs. They’re babies.”
“Like hell,” Low refuted.
Red gestured to Maxi. “Come here, I’m telling you the truth.”
She groaned, scooting forward. Jaxon grabbed her hand and placed it on the grizzly bear. Low flinched but the dog was calm. In fact, that thing lifted its giant, fluffy head and licked her.
“Awwwww, hiiiii.” Now she was happy, accepting the dogs affection. Low rolled his eyes and joined her. He patted their head and got licked. The small one barked and jumped on his leg.
“Okay, okay.Squatting, Low gave the small one some attention.
“Seeeee, don’t make my kids out to be monsters. That’s rude.” Red started down the mezzanine and his fur balls followed. As did everyone. They marched downstairs while Low stared without shame.
All the hair distorted his view of a red and black Celtic mural. Low remembered it from serving phenomenal back shots.
On the main level, they passed the bar, foyer, another hall and dining.
“I like the flow of your place,” Low said. “Open floor plans are nice. Airy.”
“You like intimate spaces, stop kissing ass.” Max rolled her neck and eyes.
“I do like other stuff, Maxine.”
Their group halted in the kitchen, where more modern fixtures awaited. Dark wood and marble. Ample counter space and an eight burner stove. Ohhhhh how he’d love one of those.
“I didn’t hear you ‘cause I had on my earbuds.” Red dug in the fridge and pulled various aluminum containers. “The noise cancellation is god tier.”
“They’re waterproof?” Max asked.
“Most are.”
On the turn around, Red showcased like Vana White. “I ordered this earlier. Thought you weren’t coming, so I put it away.”
Plates and glasses were added to Low’s surprise. He had been mistaken. There was food involved. So then like, they’d talk…before fucking.
Like a date?
“I ain’t a cook,” Red said mid chuckle. “I burn water. So feel free to make yourself a plate and reheat it. I’m gonna put some clothes on. It’s Italian, by the way.”
“Oh myyyy god,” Max moaned. She and Italian had a close relationship.
With dogs on his heels, Jaxon sprinted upstairs.
Low flung a wide gaze to Max who popped a shoulder and said, “What were you saying?”
“I stand corrected.”
Low dropped his bag on a stool and examined the fixings. “Okay, what you want, baby? We got six pans, let’s see…”
Low popped a top and she gasped. “Lasagna, I want that.”
“I know, what else… uh ooo, fried calamari.”
Her scowl was adorable, but Low loved squid. “Salad, shrimp fetachini, Melazane, I know you want that.”
“Yessss, fried eggplant is bomb with hot sauce.”
After grabbing a plate, Low topped it with what he knew Maxi wanted. She didn’t need to tell him, ‘cause a brotha memorized every detail about her. Likes, loves, and dislikes stained his frontal lobe. Never to be erased.

Chauncey, look at you, being a bully.” Red pointed at his son and wagged a finger. “You scared them half to death. And you, Bort.” His fat Corgi barked and returned to the bone she enjoyed. “Aw see, you like the Joe brand, huh sweetie? Chauncey, that was some rude shit.”
The big guy whimpered as Red threw his towel into a hamper. His closet was a maze. Long shelves stacked with loafers, boots, and sneakers flanked the cavernous space. Others held hats and bags. Everything had its place. Even ties, watches, pockets squares, and cuffs sat in their own drawer.
Coming in at around three hundred square-feet, the walk-in had racks on racks. Silks, wools, and cashmeres hung like royal finery. But he wasn’t wearing that right now, nah. In a drawer, designed for boxers and pajamas, he plucked a pair of silk bottoms and a tank. Simple and easy to remove.
“Besides, we aren’t leaving with the sun high.” He smirked. “Even if it wasn’t, we ain’t leaving. I’m just happy they came, Chauncey. I was worried.” He barked and AB nodded. “I know, I shouldn’t care this much.”
On the way out, he checked his reflection. Their reaction was priceless.
AB had been in bed, fully dressed in Versace, listening to Whitney when Low called moments ago. He’d already showered, which lasted for an hour.
Prep sucked, he hated it.
“What?” Peering down at Chauncey, he scoffed. “I put on a show, seduction requires finesse.”
When his kid barked in agreement AB hit the door and sprinted downstairs. He made sure music fit the mood. Mellow, sexy and slow. Tannerelle was in rotation at the moment. Some time ago, AB jumped in her DM. All he wanted was a digital autograph. He’d even bought her last album on vinyl and he didn’t even have a record player anymore. But, he bought all Whitney’s Vinyls as well. Queen and Stevie Wonder as well, ‘cause hello…fucking legends.
Overhearing their hushed chatter, he grinned. Yes, they were having a meal together and yeah, AB didn’t know what it was about either.
Fuck and sleep was the plan. Halfway home, he axed the idea.
“Do you like it?” AB asked, beelining for the food. “I ordered from Prima.”
“Mhm.” Max nodded and Low lifted a glass of Blanc.
“Good, I had no idea what you wanted, so I got a bit of everything.”
AB grabbed a plate of his own and piled on pasta stuffed with lump crab. The lobster sauce was fire.
“That shit with the pink sauce is phenomenal,” Low proclaimed. “What is that?”
“I don’t know, it said pink sauce. I ain’t eaten it.”
“Why not?” Max grimaced while he threw four slices of garlic bread on another slab of porcelain.
“Cauuuuse I told you, I don’t eat vegetables.”
“Right, and why, exactly?”
He deadpanned and sighed. “I don’t like them.”
Sliding his food across the marble, he walked around and sat beside Max. She was now safely nestled between two strapping males.
“And how old are you?” Max asked, like a smart ass. “Jaxon, you sound like a toddler.”
“I don’t care. They’re tasteless and crunchy, and bland. I like sweet, spicy or salty. There isn’t shit about a piece of lettuce that gets my dick hard.”
Low sprayed 1956 white all over the counter. If AB didn’t wanna fuck him so badly, he’d make him clean the mess with his tongue. However, his laughter was akin to a symphony. It absolved him of any wrongdoing. Low called forth positive emotions rather than darker ones.
“What the hell,” Low blurted. “Food does that to you?”
“Depends. I love candy, so if I go into a candy store—Hay, have you been to Vegas? They have dozens of confectionery stores. I be rock solid.”
“That’s not normal, you need help.” Max stared up at him and grinned. “Like professionally.”
AB snickered, diving head first into his food. He put away high calorie carbs and washed it down.
“Uhm, your house is hella nice, but uhhhh…Your kitchen looks like Martha Stewart threw up in it.”
AB leaned forward and shot Low a narrowed gaze. How dare he compare his taste in decor to the likes of that hack. She didn’t know shit. And there wasn’t a single article containing the initials M and S in his house.
Low cleared his throat and scanned the dining table AB copped online. It was Renata Alexander, Tinwood collection.
“And the more I look around,” Low continued. “The more I’m noticing. Knick knacks and things… You got a giant jar of buttons sitting on your dining table. French country side, modern, contemporar—what you going for exactly?”
“What I want and what I like,” AB asserted.
“Fair enough, it’s still beautiful, though. Just like your office. I can see Tracy there.”
“See Tracy where?” Max asked.
AB paused and glanced at Low as he grimaced.
“Your pops and I will be working together,” AB supplied, words running together.
Her eye twitched. She stabbed Low with a menacing glare AB thought was adorable. She growled. Also cute. “What the hell, Low? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I literally just found out,” he checked his watch, “eight hours ago.”
“And you’ve texted me since. Why is my Dad working with you, Jaxon?”
AB hiccuped and rose, full as hell. He shouldn’t have ate so much, sleep wasn’t on the schedule, and he grew weary after eating heavy. “I need what he has, and he needs what I can—”
She stopped him with a hand. “I don’t wanna know anymore. The less, the better.”
“Good idea,” he said, gathering empty plates. “I know Britney gave you her number.”
“Who’s Britney?” Max asked. “Is she fine?”
“Yes, very,” AB added, rinsing dishes. “And she likes Low, or wants to fuck him. I don’t know.”
“Oh she do, and I might cut that down.”
Throwing everything in the dishwasher, AB snarled. It was clear Low and Max had a disgustingly open relationship. But seeee, AB didn’t share well. He was an only child who never shared time, food, or toys. If it wasn’t these two with each other, or AB, he had a problem.
Max set the tone, though, didn’t she?
After slamming the stainless steel door, he turned to the food and reapplied lids. “I bet you would, but heres the thing, Low,” AB cocked a brow and sneered. “You will be working with her.”
The male’s gray eyes bounced between them. “Uhmm Red, I— you and me we…”
“That’s different,” he retorted, sliding containers into the fridge. “Chauncey! Bortimier!”
AB called for his children and retrieved dry-aged cubes of steak from the cabinet. Not Joe. USDA approved beef, only. It was a real treat. Not fake, processed, chemical laced poison.
“Oh, my god.” Max giggled. “That’s what you named them?”
“Yeah, they’re strong monikers.”
As they came running he pointed and commanded, “Sit. Chauncey, he’s a champion breed Malamute. Twelve months. Sit! Goood boy. Catch.” AB tossed up the jerky and his good boy jumped for it. Bort wanted her piece, of course. “Okay Bort, sit… siiiiiit.” She spun and barked, back talking him. “No, do what I say or get nothing.” She sat right down. “That’s my baby girl, here you goooo.”
He let her take it from his palm and said, “And this, is Bort. I adopted her from the pound three years ago. She was a four week old puppy from an abandoned litter. Go now, off with you, go play!”
“Why the fuck you name the poor girl Bortamier?” Max grimaced. “That was cruel.”
“Who says a girl dog has to have a feminine name? Good god, you go by Max.”
She snarled and hissed, “It’s unisex.”
“No it isn’t.”
“It is too.” Raising her chin, she turned and dropped from the stool. Sun dresses were a gift from the heavens. Thin fabric covered her well without restricting the body. A hypnotizing dance garnered AB’s full attention until she stopped in the living room.
“Wheres the mokentroll?” she asked.
“On the end table.”
Low chuckled into his glass and knocked the rest back. “How you know what a mokentroll is, white boy?”
Sighing, AB dragged a stare to his interviewer. “My mother was married to a Black man for 98 years. We were close, I learned a lot from him.”
That gave Mr. Collins pause, and he acknowledged with a slight nod. “Oh, that’s coo.”
“Anyway. I wasn’t aware we were watching TV.”
“You the one talking,” Max interjected from the couch. “Why is this thing so big. I can’t—Jesus Christ. I just need the p—the blue one maybe.”
“No!”
Too late.
The shutters began their ascension and all hell broke loose. Low sprinted for Max and sacked her to the floor while AB dropped right where he was
“Close them!”
“How do—ho—fuck! I can’t see!”
Hearing, instead of seeing the blinds stop, AB put abilities to use and willed them down. God damn it, they were slow.
Heat blared and roared like an actual blaze. Beaming UV rays became physical, tangible. Something you could touc and tast. It had a voice and a nefarious nature. Sentient and out for blood.
A snarling, ravenous beast seeking sustenance. Vampires were its favorite.
The repetitive thud-unk and lack of hellfire gave AB the all clear.
He popped up and groaned. “How many times are you gonna try to kill me?!”
“This was you—move, Low.”
“Ow! Don’t touch it, don’t touch it.”
“Oh babyyyy. You got burned. See what you did, Red?”
“Me?!”
Arriving at the small mound of bodies, he hissed. The back side Low’s forearm was grazed. Probably third degree burns.
“You saved me.” Max smiled and AB stared. Envy and greed tussled within as their lips fused. He gave them as much time as they wanted.
“Okay, come on. Do you have any burn cream?”
“I do.” AB extended a hand and Max accepted it. He yanked her upward and she gasped.
“Be easy now, don’t wanna break my brittle bones.” She giggled, as he helped Low to his feet as well.
“It don’t hurt that bad anymore, but maybe put some milk on it or—”
“This isn’t nineteen-fifty-six, Low.” AB smiled and pulled him into the kitchen. He kept burn ointment in the fridge. It was best to keep some on hand when one was deathly allergic to the sun. Retrieving it, he made another offer.
“You want a pint?”
“Sure, it’ll speed up the healing.”
“I got it,” Max said, rushing to busy herself. AB dipped two fingers into the cool cream.
“I shoulda told her about that.”
“Damn skippy,” Low gritted through his teeth as AB tapped his wound. Slathering another layer on his blistering, charred skin, he winced with the patient.
“Sorry,” he murmured, paying close attention to his work. “I’m trying to be gentle.”
“I doubt you can be.”
His face warmed, but he paid the quip no mind, this was important. Low had been marred and it was kinda, sorta AB’s fault.
“Here.” Max handed him a cold mug.
“You forgot to heat it.”
“Oh no, remember? He doesn’t drink hot blood.”
Snapping back, AB blinked. “I still don’t understand.”
“I don’t drink hot blood damn, not everyo—”
“No.” AB shook his head. “ Everyone does. I think you are legit the only vampire who doesn’t, and I can’t wrap my mi—why? Why do you not drink it hot? Why in the hell are you voluntarily drinking cold blood?”
“’Cause I like how it taste, suck my dick.” With pleasure, AB thought. “I do what I want.”
Watching the male lift the cup to his lips, AB fought an overwhelming impulse to vomit. The way he downed the drivel was infuriating.
“You a sick, sick individual, Low. A reeeal sociopath. My god!” AB sprinted for the sink and scoffed. “God damn, it’s one thing to be forced into reheating blood, but it’s something else entirely to be drinking it cold. I mean, you’re exhibiting serial killer behavior.”
Washing and rinsing, AB was on the verge of cross examining Low for his disgusting habit but the male had other plans.
As expected.
It’s what they came for. Body heat at his back, desire rose like the tide. Low added pressure from behind and AB gasped when a palm slipped underneath his tank. Cool, and gingerly seeking, sensations arose from the depths and enveloped him. Unable to move or speak, AB’s knees weakened and heart thundered.
Mind in a blur and a rush all at once, he welcomed Low’s exploration. On his skin and below the waist, he clutched and squeezed. Throwing palms out, AB caught himself on the counter.
Breathing came second to feeling.
Low pushed his hair aside and what followed made AB pine;yearn. Kisses on the back of his neck put strength and will to test. AB quivered and trembled for more as lips brushed his ear. The male nipped his lobe and gripped his dick.
“You thought about me, huh?” Low’s question was mean and guttural. AB bucked from how the sound penetrated bone. “Yeah, I know. And Max?”
Low slow stroked his shaft as a titillating visions held AB for ransom. Max naked, in various positions and screaming.
“You thought about my shortie, too? Tell me.”
“Yes.” AB panted. The action required too much concentration and energy. He couldn’t focus, not with Low rubbing him straight into an orgasm.
Legs shaking, a hot tension swelled in the pit of his sou—painful pin pricks shocked and appalled him the second Low released.
AB whipped around, ditched the dish towel, and stalked for the male as he backpedaled.
“I don’t like being teased.”
“And I don’t give a fuck what you like,” Low admonished.
“Liar.”
AB sniffed the air and pivoted. “Where’s Max?”
“She left us already. In your room if I had to guess.” Low crept backwards and smirked.
“Max?!” AB yelled, choking his hard dick.
She appeared on the Mezzanine. “Don’t be hollering  my name. Figured the biggest room was yours. Not too hard to find. You got nice clothes.”
The sight of her in his Dior silk should have pissed him off. How could he get upset when she looked sexy as fuck wearing it? Low launched into the air and landed next to Max with cat like elegance.
“There you go, running from me again?” AB snapped.
“Bitch, ain’t nobody running from you. I’m sick of talking.”
They were in agreement then and as such, AB followed his lead. Foregoing the stairs, he vaulted up and over, onto the mezzanine.
AB stomped through double doors, entered his suite, and darted toward Low.
Their mouths met graciously, despite a feral desire to fuck him.
Shea and Bergamot filled his lungs. Tasting Low was a simple sweetness.
AB licked his way inside and clawed at the shirt. Yanking it over Low’s head they separated for mere seconds. He rejoiced at their physical contact.
With Low leading, he pushed AB until his heel clipped the frame, and down he went.
On his back, AB watched Low claw at his pants and rip them off. In less than a minute, Low settled between his legs while Max flopped on the bed.
AB pulled her in and longed to taste the other half. Where Low calmed and soothed, Maxi ignited and sparked.
A feverish desire replaced cool, tranquil waters. A pyre had nothing on her. She forced him to growl and beg. He wanted much, to the point of pain, but glorified in earnest when Low pushed inside.
Top to bottom he was covered and taken. Owned like an object, and he’d submit willingly to be used like one.

Why, hello there! Nice to see y’all again. I don’t know if you read both of my serials, but if you do, welcome back to the world of Neon Red! I promised chapters and chapters you have received! Thank you for your patience and support, it is not in vain. I wanted to give y’all a little more than the normal one pov chapter. It’s been weeks! A month and a half, so, it’s only fair you get extra. I’ve also done a ton of batch work for this series, so publishing chapters will be easier for me. Thus, ensuring y’all get a chapter (or more) every week.

With that said, I hope you had a lovely holiday. AND! That you enjoyed reading these chapters. Low, Red, and Max are in way over their head. Each person has something going on in their life and no, they don’t have any business fucking. It’s not smart, but not a soul involved can resist.

Until next week, lovelies, have a good night and an even better week.