Category: Neon Red

Neon Red: Chapter 19

Low cruised on the 826 heading East. And didn’t this drive ring some bells. He just did the shit, which wasn’t helping him at the moment. His mind whirred with images from that night with Max. He missed her already, per usual. Low often counted down the hours to when they were allowed privacy again.
But another face appeared between sleep cycles, giving Low a bad case of blue balls. He caught an urge to hit himself over the head with a crowbar. Them type of problems needed to be avoided at all cost.
“Are you okay, Elliot?”
He nodded. “Straight as a fresh line up, brotha.”
“I’m inclined to think otherwise. You’ve said two words since I got in the car.”
“I’m good, Tracy. I got a lot on my mind but nothing deep.”
Shooting him a quick glance, Low shrugged at Tracy’s high chin. “I gather Maxine has told you what happened?”
That wasn’t what had him twisted, but nowwww, thanks to Tracy, he was ’bouta be in a bad mood. “Yeah, but it ain’t my business.”
“It isn’t, but I assure you, I’d avoid this if I could. Alas, my hands are tied.” Low stabbed Tracy with a side-eye while he peered out the window. “I don’t wish for my daughter to hate me. I…”
“It’s hella barbaric,” Low added, like a dumb ass. “Invasive and it reduces Max to nothing more than a bargaining chip. You don’t see how fucked up that is?”
“Oh, but I do. More than anyone. I haven’t had the opportunity to give her away, and I never wanted to under these circumstances. I don’t know what these men will—I can’t fathom such things. I don’t trust Matthias or his son. No matter how well meaning the boy is.”
“Boy?” Low croaked.
“Uh, no no. Nothing like that. He’s fifty.”
“Ghat damn.”
“Yes, quite young. Maxine will be a handful. He’s not prepared for a woman like her. My daughter is like a raging brush fire, wild and zero percent contained.”
Low stopped a big smile from breaking free. Tracy told no lies. Maxi was a lively woman with a good heart and an even better mind.
“She’s just like her mother,” Tracy whispered, head hanging. “In so many ways. Happy and shining, in spite of tremendous adversity.”
Keeping eyes on the road, Low let him have some peace to sort through this moment. Tracy didn’t know he knew about Bernice, and how she died during childbirth. He wanted to throw comforting words out there, but it wasn’t his place. Instead, they finished the drive without discourse. Low let Miles Davis play uninterrupted until reaching the Brickell condos.
After finding a parking space, he deaded the four cylinder, and waited for the boss man to move.
“Alright, let’s go.”
“Go where, exactly?” Low asked as they hopped out the Avalon. “Are you buying a place here?”
Tracy nodded. “In a sense. I guess I am.”
“Daaaamn, look at you, coming up in the world.”
Starting toward the elevator, Tracy strutted with swagger and confidence. He had money and a tiny piece of power, he was in fact on the come up.
“Please, it’s no big deal. Although, this is a prestigious residence. Prime property for the elite. Can’t say I haven’t put in my time. I deserve this, to be frank.”
Low slapped the call button and scoffed. “Damn right you do. Claim it, own your future.”
“Christ, Elliot. You sound like my daughter, don’t tell me you believe in all that spiritual rigamarole. I know you were raised in a religious household, but Maxine’s beliefs are strange.”
When allowed, Low stepped in the box and chuckled. “What number?”
“Four.”
He stabbed the circle and listed against a mirrored panel. “Nah, I don’t get down with all that light and love or whatever. But some of the stuff seems okay.”
Tracy frowned, harder than normal. “Rocks and energy, it’s beyond me.”
“Don’t let her hear you call them rocks.”
“Ohhh yesss,” Tracy groaned. “Crystaaaals. Excuse the fuck out of me.”
They got a good giggle outta that before their ascent stopped. Low gestured for Tracy to make an exit. He always went first, so if anything got rowdy he saw who was coming but had his back too.
It was a service night, so Low carried them dual rails like the military. And thanks to his forged open carry license, he wore the holster with confidence. Cargoes and boots. He was on the battlefield, so why not?
The corridor ended when Tracy yanked a door open and walked right on in.
Low stayed on his ass, but calmed once inside the office. “Damn.” Shorty sitting behind a desk caught his eye first. A dime and some change, she fit the establishment. It was sleek and serene, with
Cream and pine threaded throughout. Low liked lavish shit, just not in his house.
Stopping in front of the receptionist, she did a double take. He nodded and she blushed. Low was fa sho finna get that number upon departure.
“Hello again, Mr. Bissette. He’s almost finished with a consultation, you can have a seat.”
“Terrific.”
Tracy led him across the airy, open space and into a waiting area kitted with leather and glass tables.
“This is nice, but what are we doing here exactly?”
His employer snapped up a magazine and flipped pages. “Knitting, who knits anymore? Uhm, well, I’ll be working here, as a matter of fact.”
“Doing what?”
“Same as I do now, but on a much larger scale. I’ve taken on a partner.”
Low recoiled and blinked. “You have?”
“Yes, an—”
“Oh well, Mr. Aubrey I hope so.”
The surname made Low flinch, and he hadn’t the balls to take a look. This can’t be happening, no no no…absolutely not. Ain’t no way in hell.
“Ah, Tracy.”
Fuuuuuck no.
Low peered at a stack of magazines as Tracy stood and greeted the personal nightmare. It was bad enough that this male didn’t want to leave his brain in peace. The world shitted on ‘em.
Partner? He was the partner?!
This was so fuckin’ awkward and now, Low had to see him all the tim—
“Elliot.”
Low returned to the present and grinned. “Yes?”
“I said you can come with me.”
“I’ll wait.”
Tracy’s brow twitched. “That’s ludicrous, you never leave my side. Get up.”
“Okay.” If the pay wasn’t so good Low would have hauled his ass right out the door.
Jacking to his feet, he cussed. Low followed Tracy, winked at the secretary and stopped right quick.
“What’s your name?” he asked, smirking.
“Britney.”
“So, how long you been working here?”
“Britney.”
Low stiffened as the girl spun around in her chair.
“Yes, sir?”
“Make sure to fax Mr. Palmer  the itinerary.”
Red might as well be a walking biohazard. Dangerous and toxic as fuck, he smelled amazing. Why…why…one haunting word. Just one, and it had every intention of bugging the shit out of Low all night.
“Yes, sir.”
Low turned his attention in the opposite direction, and zipped past, stumbling into the office.
“Holy hell. This like an apartment.”
Expansive, with panoramic views. He hung back while Tracy sat in front of a long, executive desk. Low faced the window ‘til their conversation about numbers and percentages started. They used fancy verbiage he didn’t understand.
The back half of Jaxon’s office had everything. A wet bar, TV, conference table, and couches. One of which, Low chose to fall into. Again with the knitting mags. Not for nothing, but Red had greeeeat taste in a lot of things.
Including secretaries.
Britney sashayed with libations and such. She wore the hell out of a silk blouse and skirt number, too.
Business sexy.
“Would you like some water or blood?”
“Water is fine.” He smiled, flashing fangs. “Thank you.”
“Britney.” Jaxon called her and the girl almost ran for it. They fucked before. Yeah, of course. She was pretty and young. But so was Low, shit. They had centuries between them. Five hundred years give or take.
Like an idiot, Low dragged eyes up and over to the boss. Annnnd it only got worse. Red sported a poplin top like a grown ass man. What was it? Tom Browne? Probably, rich ass. Red laughed at nothing because Tracy wasn’t witty.
Fake, fake, fake ass bitch.
His mouth was disgusting.
Low ain’t never met a man who sucked dick like he’d mastered it. Work of the devil. Straight like that, red hair and all. Staring wasn’t a good idea and when their eyes clashed, Low stopped breathing.
Play it coo, bruh. You ain’t no punk, don’t you dare cower.
Low held his own and like a G, didn’t even blink.
Shiiiid. He wanted to fuck the old vampire right on this couch. His dick liked the proposition, but Red severed their moment and Low inhaled.
“—your shipments are yours, I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“That’s fine, and understandable.”
“But there may be times when our people co-mingle. Uh, Elliot, come here.”
This is stupid, Low thought.
With another groan, he rose on wobbly legs and stalked over to the new partners.
“So,” Tracy started, “you’ll meet with his team and get to know them. You, Hollister, and Russell.”
“The new cat you texted me about?”
“Yes, but I want you all to get acquainted. I think it would alleviate any mix-ups, and awkwardness.”
Too late for that.
“Uhm I’m sorry, whose team and for what?” Low crossed arms over his chest and waited for an answer. Tracy glanced at Jaxon who shrugged.
“My team of bodyguards, henchman, and runners.”
Low’s head cranked on his spine, he stared at Red and frowned. “Your what? You trafficking humans too?”
The male sighed aloud. “No, Elliot. I am into other things. Like weed, ice, coke, black rock, H, benzos, bars, perc, beans, Fentynol, lean or shit, VB… whatever the itch may be, I can scratch it.”
Low erupted in ill-timed laughter and kept at it. Turning away from the pair, he tried to quiet down and snorted.
“Elliot, what is so funny?”
“I…I—” He choked on a giggle. “I’m sorry, Tracy. Okay.”
Low bit his bottom lip to stifle another dose of chuckles and returned to the conversation. It made sense now, why he was overcome with desire.
He sniffed it out, sensed it, and was drawn to it.
Low had a problem, he was strongly attracted to criminals. Always had been, and he had terrible taste in men. Women, too.
Better yet, Low looooooved self inflicted wounds. He smashed at least three drug dealers in his day, all were on the DL but none so pretty or…
“I kinda figured something was off about you,” Low said, squinting and scrutinizing. “What’s your radius?” he asked.
Red rocked in the big boy chair like a goon.
Low wanted to swallow his tongue. Before his confession, this was bad, but now shit went from schweatin ol’ boy to thirsting for a muh’fucka.
Fast.
“Miami.”
He cocked his head. “Nah, I said how many blocks you got?”
Jaxon Aubrey’s face was made for sex. This was not the venue.
“And I said Miami, Baton Rouge, Augusta, and Wilmington North Carolina. Wells and Scotland.”
“Ooooohhhhh.” Low nodded sloooow. “Ohhh. You like up there. Oh shiiiiit, so you like top dog.” Pulling on his collar, Low smiled at Tracy. “Are you sure you wanna get involved with a kingpin?”
Low swallowed hard at them words. In truth, they were aimed at himself. Personally, he was finna turn into a bird. A cluckin’ ass groupie, but Tracy needed to know what he was getting into.
“I’m serious, Tracy. I’ve been here more than once. You fuck up, somebody like him won’t think twice about killing you.”
“We’ve come to an agreement.”
Low threw up his hands. “Okay. Fine. I tried to help…”
He pointed at the couch. “I’m gonna wait over here, but uh yeah. The comment I made about the dro? It was ass. You need to do something about that, and your supply. I’m running on empty.”
“I’m working on it as we speak.”
“Good,” Low snapped. “Hope so. This is bad customer service.”
He turned on his boot heels, power walked back to the sofa, and plopped. This was worse than he thought, and wasn’t gon’ get no better. Why…why…a male like Red was bad news. How was Low supposed to forget about their one night sneak now?
How was he supposed to move along and pretend like Jaxon never existed now?
Guess he had to, though, huh? Since the baller ass drug dealer used Low up already. He ain’t want no more. Fine, whatever, fuck him. Just his luck. A man can never have impeccable pussy and dizzy dick on deck at once. It was impossible. He had the cat, but that there redhead was being stingy with his bone.
Bitch.
Low glared at Jaxon and vowed to leave him be. Even if he was a dope boy.
Ohhhh don’t do it, bruh, you stronger than this!
Letting the BS go, he swiped a bottle of Evian off the coffee table and cracked it open. He wasn’t desperate, nah. Low had no shortage of ass.
After guzzling sixteen ounces in one shot, he stared at the empty container and scoffed. A nigga was thirsty. He chuckled at the inner commentary.
“I’ll take that.” Britney came through with a white smile and brown eyes.
“Thanks.”
She grabbed the plastic and replaced it with a card. He acknowledged her gift and nodded. “I gotchu.”
She blushed again, and switched in them heels. He watched her go, and had the nerve to stare, too.

Neon Red: Chapter 18

“But I caaaaan’t move Maxi, I swear to you I can’t.” Max stood over Chrissy and laughed at her theatrics. The cute, bubbly blonde was flat on her back and ready to cry again. She threw out a hand, and Max tried to help her up. “My body doesn’t work anymore. Just throw me in the ocean.”
“See, this is why I don’t date Scorpios.” Jordan’s input made Max laugh, but Chrissy glared at the man.
“Not funny, you bitch.”
“I may be a slut, but at least I’ll sleep without a broken heart. Ah! Ndari!”
“Leave her alone, Jordan, she’s in enough pain.”
“Come on, baby.” Max pulled Chrissy up, and the girl whined, but got to her feet that were tucked in strappy heels. She never wore sneakers or boots; she’d rather saw her feet off than wear anything below six inches.
“We only have two hours left.” Chrissy slumped over the counter. “You can do iiiit.”
“We’re not gonna get customers anyway,” Jordan said, with a massive dose of irritation. They had two walk-ins and no appointments. Which, given her father’s financial matters, wasn’t good. Business needed to pick up, and like now. Either that or accept Jaxon’s offer.
“I shoulda’ called out. It’s shit, niiiight, Maxi. I canceled a dick appointment for this.”
Rounding behind the counter, she smiled at Ndari and shrugged. “Sorry, can’t relate.”
“That’s because you have Low slinging his tally whacker in your face all day.”
Max giggled and opened her sketch book. Grabbing a pencil, she sighed at the eyes staring back. She’d added color two days ago.
“Low was only a participant last night.”
“Uuuuugghhh.” Jordan stomped his big foot and groaned. “Here we go. Another threesome, I take it? I hate you. You get laid more than anyone I know.”
Ndari nudged her. “Who was it this time? A construction worker from your dad’s job. A model who wanted to kiss you, or a girl who had cute hair. Oooo, what about—oh, dear lor,d this is beautif, ul Maxi. Who is this?”
She sighed again. “Jaxon Aubrey.”
“Who?”
“Jaxon, the redhead.”
Chrissy popped up from what may have turned into a power nap. “The snazzy fella that came in here the other night? Oh my god!”
“I knew he liked women!” Jordan stopped sweeping and deflated. “He looks like a pussy beater.”
Max clicked her tongue ring, “Naaahhhh. He loves himself some dick too,”
The lumberjack dropped the Libman and gasped. “No way, bitch. Please, do tell.”
“I am gonna kill you.” Ndari barked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It just happened last night. And it is not happening again.”
Chrissy grimaced. “Cause of your weirdo rule about second dates? Live it up, sweet cheeks! I do, and I’m one hundred and forty-five.”
“Old skank,” Jordan blurted.
“Troglodyte. Go wash that hobo beard, it smells like gym socks.”
Jordan flipped Chrissy off as the bell rang. Their group scattered, revealing the last person Max wanted to see. Despite how nice he was, she didn’t want to deal with him.
“I hope you don’t mind. Tracy told me where to find you.”
Ndari was perplexed, glancing at Max. “Uhm, I’ll go restock your room.”
Raymond stepped to the counter, and Max wanted to scream. Maybe curse and knock this man in the head with the cash register. If he died, their problems were over.
Slamming her book closed, she battened down the hatches on her attitude. This wasn’t his fault; they were both stuck in the middle. Although he probably wasn’t involved in his father’s affairs. Max had her reasons. The allowance was barely enough to care for everyone.
“Uh, no. It’s fine. You might as well see where I work and what it is I do.”
Raymond meandered and stared at the cluttered wall of art.
“I don’t have any tattoos, never thought to get one. Looks painful.”
“It’s not so bad once you get used to the needle. It can actually become quite addicting.”
He smiled and dragged kind eyes over to her. “I can tell. Not a single person I know with tattoos has only one.”
“Nope, can’t say I met anybody with one tat. They’re like unicorns or—”
“Mermaids.”
She blushed and gestured to the one on her neck. “Yes, exactly.”
Raymond sighed and looked out the window, then returned to Max. “I was wondering if we could go somewhere and talk, if you’re able.”
“You know what? I can’t.”
Chrissy appeared with a pristine smile and golden ringlets. “I got ya, girly, go on. I’ll lock up. Might leave earl,y though. It’s dry as my mother’s apple pie.”
“You sure?” Max grimaced.”
“Yes, hun, go.”
Ndari squeezed her arm and smirked. “I want you to text me when you get home.” She made eye contact with the mal,e and Max snickered. “The moment you get in.”
“I will, Mom. Don’t worry. Can you open tomorrow?”
“Like I did tonight?” Ndari cocked a brow. “Yeah, sure. For the tenth time this week.”
“I lovvve you.” Shouldering her purse, Max pointed at Jordan. “I want you booked by next Friday, and I mean it. All of you. Tilt will be back from vacation in a week, I don’t wanna hear his mouth about how he’s the goat or some shit.”
“It’s so quiet without him.” Jordan’s disdain for Tilt was due to his crushing…and bad.
“Okay, I’ll see y’all. Be good!”
Max let Raymond lead, and the gentleman opened the door.
“Thank you kindly.”
“No problem.”
Miami heat, brine,e and moisture stuck to her skin. A shower was next in line after a meal. She followed her escort, and he stopped in front of the Mercedes E-class. Damn, talk about saucy. Raymond remained helpful and allowed her to get in first.
“Thanks.”
Once safely buckled, he ran to the driver’s side. The interior was lavish and smelled of men’s Cologne. He started the engine,e and Ronald Isley came on just in time.
“Oh my god, I love the Isley Brothers.”
“What?” Raymond grinned as he started off to wherever they were going. “Me too, and this one? That Lady is my jam.”
“You got good taste, my man.”
“So, it’s Friday and 1am. Where would you like to go? There are a few 24-hour spots around here.”
“The Tavern,” Max prompted. “I go there a lot, especially this time of night. It’s close, and they have great fish and chips.”
“Ohh yeah, I know the place, Hotel Croyen, right?”
“Exactly. It’s legit, six minutes away. Right on Collins.”
Raymond smiled. “The Tavern it is.”
There wasn’t much of a trip at one in the morning, but they filled the time talking about music. He had a love for golden oldies, that was it.
“Must be fate, look at this. Right in front, gosh.”
Gosh, she thought. Did the male even cuss? To be fair, not everyone did, but Max needed to say ‘shit’ at least once a da,y or she’d explode somehow. After Raymond paralleled like a master, he got out and beat her to the door.
“Are you gonna do that every time?” Max asked.
“If left up to me, yes.”
She snickered and paced to The Tavern. Sensing him on her heels, Max looked back. “They have wonderful apps, and the Nutella waffle? Holy shit.” Being a woman on her own, she didn’t like to be waited on hand and foot, so she ran for the door. “Ha! Too slow, honey! You gotta be quicker than that if you rolling with me, now.”
Raymond chuckled as she made way inside. Fried food and coffee tickled her nose as cool jazz played at a hushed volume. The all-hour diner was packed and bustling. Waiters whipped to and fro carrying trays, while others jotted orders with a smile.
“I did not think it would be this busy,” Raymond said.
“Mhm. Kids are starting to come in from everywhere. This time next week, we’d have to wait an hour to get a seat.”
“How many?” the cute hostess asked.
“Just two,” Raymond replied.
Raymond handled formalities while Max headed for the exit. A fifteen-minute wait wasn’t much, but she didn’t want to pass it by standing around.
“Uh, outside?” Max pointed to the door and strolled back out. The heat be damned, it was stuffy in the waiting area with nowhere to sit. At least they had a bench to kill time on. Dropping her ass on down, Max rifled through her bag. “Where is…god dam—oh, found it.”
With her hooka—instead of vape—in hand, she turned the thing on and inhaled all that cherry goodness.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Do you mind?”
Raymond shook his head. “Nope. Have at it. I smoked a joint once, back in college.”
She giggled at such an innocent answer. His admittance didn’t surprise her. This male came from money. He was well educated and straight as a fresh line.
They’d been given the same opportunities, but Max hated the square, trad wife bull shit. Pressed, prim, and proper had turned wicked within.
Raymond was nice. The Black hipster, aci berry, and oat milk smoothie quality worked for him.
His locs were tight, neat, and in a masculine updo. Something most men would appreciate. Ripped jeans and a plaid button-up screamed Ambicrombie, though. Other than his whack ass attire, he seemed affable with a non-threatening, soft coral stare.
“It’s not weed,” Max stressed. “I don’t smoke Mary Jane. It’s hookah.”
“What’s that?”
Max pulled the metal tip from her lips and examined it. She smiled and said, “I don’t really know.”
“You’re smoking a mysterious substance?”
“I mean…” She looked at it again. “Well, shit, yeah. It tastes nice. I think it’s tobacco of some sort.”
Raymond grinned, his pearly whites making a brief appearance. “You live on the edge, I see.”
“This ain’t even close to the edge, Raymond.”
“Call me Ray.”
“Okay, Ray. You can call me Max.” Before inhaling, she sighed. “Sorry about running out on you the other night.”
“Don’t apologize, I understand. This is… I don’t even have the words for it. I hadn’t planned for this. My Father barged into my house yelling commands. Stating how I had get married.” His shoulders sagged, and his expression darkened. “I never wanted to get married. I don’t want to. You seem like a decent woman…I just, I’m not ready for any of this.”
Max gave him a second to fume; hell, they both needed it. She didn’t want this either, nor was she ready, or fit to be anyone’s wife.
Pushing smoke through her nose, she shrugged. “If I didn’t need my Dad’s money, I’d be gone.”
Ray scoffed. “I wish it were monetary for me. I’ve been doing what Matthias wants my whole life. Became a Lawyer for him. I’m the Viscount’s personal attorney. Just like he wanted. Now, I’m getting married. With little hope of him acknowledging any of it… Oh, Max, forgive me. I don’t mean to trauma dump.”
“Don’t say sorry for shit. We’re in a fucked up predicament, and if you ever need to vent, I’m here. I’d rant, but it is what it is. Can’t blame anyone but myself, really.”
Raymond rested his elbows on his knees and looked back at her. “Thank you for not telling me to go shove it.”
“I know how an overbearing and controlling parent can be. Lived my entire life with one. I know your pain, bruh. Not to change the subject or anything, but uh, how old are you?”
“Fifty-one.”
Max high whistled at such a low ass number. “Whew, baby, you fresh meat. Hey now, you better be careful, I might let you get to know me.”
The male blushed hard and straightened. “How about you? I don’t want to ask a lady overtly. That’s highly inappropriate.”
Max took another hit and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll be a centennial next year.”
Ray’s eyes popped. “Wow, gosh.”
“I know, I know. I’m an old lady, but I got style and sass. I can teach you a few thangs, don’t you know?”
He beamed and said, “I believe that, but no. I was going to say you don’t look a day over twenty-one…as expected. But you fit in with this time so well. Not many of us do. You obviously shop at Hot Topic.
Max exploded in genuine laughter. She crackled and tapped his arm. “Was that your attempt at a joke?”
“Maybe, was it bad?”
“No, I liked it.” She snorted and stashed her hookah in the bag. “I love expression. In all forms, Body art and modification is an excellent outlet for someone like me. I love piercings, and I definitely want more. I forget how many I have.”
“I counted two in your nose and one in your lip there.” She was impressed by how fast he noted everything. “Nine on your left ear, annnnd four on your right.”
“You, sir, are correct. But you’re missing some.”
He frowned. “I am, where? I don’t—”
Max extended her tongue, shutting him right the fuck up. The male recoiled and blushed again. He looked elsewhere and cleared his throat. “You have one just there… in—yeah, there it is.”
She buckled down on a bout of giggles. “I’m gonna get a cross bar real fuckin’ soon though.”
“Whatever that is.” He nodded and glanced her way.
“It’s a horizontal piercing.”
“Ohhhh, okay. That looks like it hurts really bad.” Raymond grimaced.
“Nope, a quick stab and it’s all done. Plus, we heal quick. An hour or two and donezo.”
“Hm. Well, if it’s any consolation, they suit you.”
Now she diverted attention. To the ground, her shoes, and various couples enjoying a late night out. God, Max didn’t want to do this.
Raymond wasn’t who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. More to the point, she didn’t want to get married. But her luck was shit, and there was no going back.
“Thank you,” Max said. “I do it for me, not for acceptance.”
“Good for you.” Raymond’s reply held zero snark. He spoke genuinely, but the slice of sadness gave her pause. Max wanted to find out why, but his name came through the speakers.
“That’s us.” Max chimed.
Bouncing up, Ray showcased a palm. “Oh my god, what is that?” He pointed, and Max jumped, prepared to wield her taser. Spinning around, she saw nothing.
“Made you look.” The male’s voice got her attention. She laughed at the corny shit as he stood there with the door open.
“After you, m’lady.”
Max snapped her fingers. “You got me, Ray. I’m gonna have to keep my eye on you.”
“That you will.”

Ooooop, I bet y’all thought I was going to forget, huh? Nahhh. I gotchu! As long as y’all read it, I will publish new chapters. I want to finish this book so y’all can hate me for the second! No, because I’m serious, you’re probably gonna hop into my inbox afterward. Buuuuut, don’t fret, it’s all gonna be okay. But not for Max. (insert crying emoji) She and Raymond are being put through helllll. When I wrote this book, I was so into torturing these poor souls. I was all about putting my characters through the absolute worst. And I think that speaks to how dark my own life was at the time. I was trapped with a violent, abusive man. I felt as though I had nowhere to go. Like I’d lost all autonomy. I wrote this series to give myself hope and to vent, kind of. Yes, the road to our HEA is rough, but it’ll be worth it. This was the story both Max and I wanted to tell. And you know what? I’m happy I wrote it, but I’m even happier that y’all are reading it. Thank you so much for stopping by, and please stay cool. It’s hotter than hell, and Y’ALL, my AC is broken. I live in Vegas. Send me SNOWWWWW! Anyway, y’all have a beautiful night and see you next week, bookie.

Neon Red Update

Y’all, I am a one woman show, and with that said, things happen. I am sorry for that. Sometimes, when I’m doing one thousand things at once, I fk up. And for chapter fifteen, I forgot to add ABs POV! But, I fixed it! He’s there, getting cracked open like a can of biscuits! If you’d like to go back and read it, by all means, please do. It is kinda important for y’all to see just how far gone he is for Low and Max. Their first moment was explosive and fleeting for a reason. 😏😌 As always, thank you so much for being patient with me, I be trying y’all. 🫶🏾✨Anyway, I hope you have a good weekend, and I’ll see you next week! Drink more water, and stay hydrated, bookie. It’s hotter than the devils nutsac out there. 

Neon Red: Chapter 17

Low didn’t know which way was up as he yanked his boxers off the floor. He couldn’t focus or form a single coherent thought, and the male’s scent made it worse. Assssss hole. What was Low supposed to say now? Nothing, not a god damn word.
Low grunted and pulled on his underwear. Halfway decent, he located his sweats. The shirt was harder to find.
“Where is it?” He dropped to the floor, confused as to how it had crept under the bed. After dragging it out, he donned the cotton. Next, his glasses. Low squinted, hoping to find them quickly.
“My glasses? Man, what the—”
“Nightstand,” Red supplied.
Low whipped about, spotted and plucked them. Sliding his frames on, the world appeared with booming clarity.
He didn’t appreciate it.
“You going to hell with that suit on,” Low murmured.
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“I assumed red was your color.”
Low frowned and patted pockets. “What you mean?”
“The Pirus tattoo on your arm.”
There were several things wrong here. Red’s attention to detail was attractive. Low loved the suit and, yes, it was his color. Red, however, was getting a tad too close, and Low didn’t trust himself not to punch the elderly vampire in the face.
Lastly, that chapter in his life was closed.
“I turned over a new tree. Fuck a leaf. I ain’t banging no more. I haven’t since ninety-eight. Not that it’s your business.”
In a pocket, he felt for the waiting blunt and fished it out. Low ignored the male’s closeness and opened the oversized window.
He needed air, and Florida offered nothing stepping onto the patio. It was too damn hot for this shit, even with more rain in the near future. Precipitation gave no reprieve. Low’s lips hugged the blunt happily as he found a lighter and lit the tip.
Stress-free and hungry coming right up. As Low inhaled, Red disturbed his nightly ritual.
“You look like a French toast man,” Red stated, like he knew him or some shit.
“Wrong. I do waffles.” The hell was his goal, after hearing their whole discussion. To humiliate Low further.
It wasn’t being a bottom that bothered Low. Nah.
He wanted to fuck and get fucked, otherwise, for him, a proud verse, there’d be no point.
Low’s problem was how thoroughly Red obliterated him. At the end of the night, Low was a vampire. Halfbreed, but still a bloodsucker. Biology and instinct ran heavy in their species.
He felt manhandled and small. Dominated. Low shuddered and pulled from the wood.
“If it makes you feel any better,” Red sighed, “we are in the same boat.”
“It don’t.”
It did.
Knowing Jaxon felt like a cum slut, too,o made his chest swell with pride. It meant Low had laid some mean pipe.
“Maybe a little,” Low murmured.
He extended the blunt to Red as an olive branch.
“I’m working. The hell do I look like?”
“No need to get smart.” Low snorted. “Uppity ass.”
“Oh, okay. Mr. I’m working, don’t talk to me.’”
Low chuckled, expelling a cottony white cloud. Warmth coated him from head to toe, promising a good night.
“I can’t be distracted,” Low added. “I do real shit. I don’t be sitting behind a desk all night like you.”
“You think you got everything figured out, huh?” Red asked, facing him. Low minded his eyes and lifted them to the sky.
“Yeah.”
“Where’s the food and blood? I’m really starving. Like, I’m about to throw up.”
Low giggled as Max’s voice brought him back down to earth. He ditched the roach on the turnaround and watched as she searched for something. “Your phone is under the pillow, baby.”
“I dont remember putting it there.”
“You always do, though.”
“So what?” Max tossed pillows and squealed. “There you are. Okay, purse, glasses, and phone. We move.”
Low did the honors and grabbed her fuckin’ trash bag. Who needed a bag this big? She might as well carry a duffel.
“Huh.”
“Thaaank you.”
Of course, she paid Red no mind. They never did this, stayed after a threesome. It was weird, and she was nervous. Low knew every look, fidget, and tell.
“Alright.” Max donned her large, round hippie frames. “Solids, liquids? Where are they?”
“Why are you so flustered, Maxine?” Jaxon asked. The grin on him was devious.
She wrenched the door open and said, “I’m trying not to hurt you in some way, asshole.”
“You already shot me. Is that gonna turn into a habit?”
“I don’t know, depends on how you act.”
Low snickered as they filed into the hallway. Max had a mouth and an inexhaustible need to use it as a weapon. But so did Red.
“Play around if you want to, Maxine.” The male dropped down to her level and snarled. “I will snap your fucking spine in half next time.”
Shorty had them shades on, but Low saw peeped her glower. Jaxon tried to intimidate, and in a different setting he’d get lucky, but the spell done wo’ off.
“You mighty presumptuous, Jaxon. Assuming there will be a next time. As you heard we,” she gestured between them, “don’t do that. You know how it goes. This was fun…you seem great….so on and so forth.”
Red snapped back to his full height and spun on a chuckle. They followed, close behind. Low needed a bite immediately. Their journey down an empty hall remained quiet, save for Red’s noisy shoes.
The man was a force. His walk and talk demanded attention. And in a red suit, bruh had a way about him that made Low reminisce…Max slapped his arm.
“What?”
“Don’t,” She gritted.
“I ain’t do nothin’.”
She showcased a hand and shook her head. He wanted to assuage his girl with a kiss until they halted.
“I never seen a kitchen so dark, damn bruh. It’s like a mausoleum. Too much black.” Low hopped three steps and jogged to the flat, matte island. “Oh yes.”
Sitting down, he snagged a plate, and Max did the same. Low ran out of space, loading up on eggs, sausage, and potatoes.
So, of course, he grabbed another and dropped on it.
“You hate waffles,” Max said, too god damn loud. Not minding her own business, she popped her brows. “What are you doing?”
“Girl, you know I lo—” Laughter punched from his chest. “I love waffles. Mmmm. Yum.”
Low stole a quick glance. Red leaned ever so sexy like against the counter, handling a mug.
“I have never seen you eat them,” she added. “You like French t—”
“Shhh, shut up. I’m flipping it. Trying something new.”
Max shrugged. “Okayyy. I’m telling you, they’re good.”
No, they weren’t. Low hated them truthfully. Waffles got soggy quick with syrup pooling in soppy cubes. It wasn’t a horrifying experience. Never one to back out or cower, Low poured the sticky shit and shoved wet napkins into his mouth.
He gagged. It was a textural nightmare.
“Why don’t you just eat the French toast?” Red suggested.
Low hesitated, but surrendered. Fuck it. Without looking at the man, he pushed the waffles aside.
On a third plate, he stacked it with his tried and true. They went down easier because he lovvvved the mouthfeel and taste. When a glass of grapefruit juice magically appeared, Low downed it. He went in on eggs and sausage next.
“You do this for everybody?” Low asked. Making sure to set a keen eye on the male dripping in red.
“Yeah, it’s a common courtesy,” Red admitted, much to Low’s surprise. “Y’all not special. And Max, we are in agreement.” Biting into a danish, Red shrugged. “You don’t go back for seconds, and I didn’t ask for it. I’m good.”
“Cool.” Max snipped, focused on her food.
Low scraped up his French toast that held the bitter aftertaste of rejection. Double-dipping was against the rules. Their rules. And Low never overstepped. Individually, they were allowed to do whatever, but if by chance either found someone, then it was fair to let the other know.
Low never met anyone worth enough to let Max go. Nobody made him yearn for more, aside from her.
Saluting with his glass, Low smirked. “Glad we got it sorted.”
“Feel free to let yourself out.” Red checked his watch. “I’m done with Tracy’s financial business, so…see you around, I guess.”
Max considered Red for a beat and tilted her head. “Not likely.”
“You two have a good evening.”
Low nodded and scooped the last of his potatoes. Max giggled, but neither spoke for a minute. They left the house and were in his car on their way to the tattoo shop when he sighed.
“That was weird,” Low said.
“Riiiight? Talk about awkward. Jesus.” Max retrieved her vape and puffed. “I’m so glad he wasn’t needy about the whole thing, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Me too, but at least we ain’t never gotta see him again.”
“Who you tellin’, honey?”
Fun as it was, a recurring threesome was bad news for all parties involved. And Low, for one, didn’t have time for that shit. He had kids at home and bills to pay.

*All predators catch their death in my books

Hours later, AB found himself wandering about in a shoe box. It was an apt description for Joel’s house. The low ceiling was less than an inch above his head. He examined cabinets overrun by ants. They scurried to and from boxes like busy little soldiers.
He didn’t have much. Flour, baking soda, and salt. A blanket of dust coated everything, aside from one counter where a thick layer of grime waited to be scraped off with steel wool.
The house wasn’t in bad shape,e structurally speaking. It had good bones but needed to be bleached.
A pungent aroma of mold and rotted flesh made for one helluva cocktail. It added to the ambiance Joel’s nasty ass was going for.
In the sink, dishes waited, and had been for a while. Creeping around the tiny four-burner stove, AB grew nostalgic.
A quaint, one-bedroom abode with low-hanging beams and plank floors. Candlelight, instead of bulbs, and the smell of freshly baked bread replaced decay.
AB and his mother lived in dozens of hovels and holes. But every so often, they lucked out. Acquiring enough coin for an actual home or cottage, with a fireplace and a roof. Where AB rested on a soft palate and not the ground.
Squeezing through the hall, the floorboards squealed until he reached the living room.
A lawn chair, a mounted forty-inch, and an empty beer can weren’t exactly inviting. AB hit a one-eighty and sprinted upstairs, where death settled on his skin.
He stepped into a room that should have housed a bed, a dresse,r or even a desk.
Being dangerously close to eight hundred years old, AB had seen it all and done enough. He didn’t have aversion to blood, gore, or homicide. But even he had to hold his breath and turn away.
Caked layers of Lysol, Lyme, and baby powder didn’t help.
“Fuck,” he whispered, taking in the scene again. AB growled. Vampires, at best, were decent, and some had the balls to do something compassionate, like save lives. Thanks to decades of dilution, humanity helped calm and tame their inner proclivities. AB worked hard to control his own issues. Massacres and serial killings were frowned upon. Most vampires didn’t give a shit about who they killed.
AB only snuffed two women, and he had to, ‘cause they wanted to harm his mother. Two Behld witche,s soaked in black, blood magic, wanted his mother dead.
He couldn’t let it be.
AB didn’t have a code or nothin’, but he was raised by a woman, and held them in high esteem. He tried not to kill innocent men, but they tasted the best. In his days of overindulgence, brutality, and debauchery, he happily dined upon plump dignitaries with fat pockets.
They were drained of blood and funds.
AB used his dick and addictions to make the most of this life. But children were always off limits. No amount of money or blood was worth vanquishing a soul so young. His dark past was a safe space for nightmares, but AB never, ever touched kids.
Dropping to a crouch, he stared at the little bodies, ill-wrapped in tarp and tape. They were so tiny. Decomposing toes and hands. There were twenty-eight missing children in this room.
“He’s downstairs,” Ines said with a bite. The male had kids of his own, grown and in the world doing adult shit. He refused to look inside.
AB shot upward, crossed creaking woo,d and snatched two duffels off of the floor. Pacing out, he coughed as the odor stuck to him like bad cologne.
When he reached the bottom, he tossed the heavy bags in front of Joel. Mr. Liston sat in the lawn chair, as his legs had a motor attached. He chewed on fingernails with pupils big as dimes. Sweat beaded on his waxy, tight skin.
“You lookin’ bad, Joe.”
“I’m—I was only taking a little. You’d never notice.”
Ines took residence on the last step and paid witness.
“But I did. You must be smooth out your rabbit ass mind if you think I wouldn’t notice when five bricks of Brown Sugar go missing.” Lowering to his haunches, AB looked up at Joel and smirked. “I keep note of every ounce, because it’s mine. And stealing from me won’t be tolerated. Furthermore, your ass is high as a kite.” Standing tall once again, AB leered. “If you use my shit?! You pay me! You polished off two ounces, so where’s my motha fuckin’ money, Joe?”
“I don’t have any money an—” He looked back at Ines, but AB slapped the bitch back around. Blood splattered all over his shirt.
“This is Gucci, you sick fuck.” AB growled, shaking his head. “You stole my product, refused to pa,y and now… You ruined my favorite shirt. Bitch…” He chuckled and studied the mess. “You know, humans have one life, and don’t live past a certain point. But us, we are so much fun, ‘cause no matter what you do, we breathe. We are sturdy, solid. I mean, unless you cut our head off…or have halo bullets on-hand.”
Ab strolled over to the four-pane window and peered at the moon. “Torture ain’t no fun with humans. You push too hard, they break and wither. Not us, though.”
“Please, AB,”
“Four years you’ve been on my payroll and I,” AB purred, pinning Joe with a searing glare, “paid you well. I give everybody raises and shit to avoid situations like this. But youuuu Joe, are greedy. So, we’re gonna see how much that stomach can hold.”
AB nodded at Ines. He hopped to it and sprinted out the door. Staring at Joe, AB smiled. “I’ll kill you for stealing from me, but I’ma have some fun for what’s upstairs.”
“Don’t you judge me. You’re no be—”
“I what? I ain’t never hurt kids.”
“They wanted it, they begged me to love—”
Ab’s backhand found Joe’s face. The assault sent him careening. On his side, the male choked on his own blood. “You the worst kinda vampire there is. We don’t have many taboos, as you know.” He rammed a Nike boot into the asshole’s stomach, making the prick heave. “But we all agree that children are out of the question. No siring, no feeding, no killing…and definitely, no…touching! Ah, Ines, you’ve come with gifts.”
His old friend entered, carrying a box full of things that made him happy. “What do we have? Boric acid, sulfuric acid, pliers, drills, and hammers? Nice! Arsenic, molten silver. Oh shit, I can’t touch that. Uhmmm, ooo mercury! You know, I’ve taken a sip of this. It’s got a citrus tinge. Oh! Bella Donna. Ines, you shouldn’t have.”
Keeping a fanatical eye on the sick bastard, AB dropped to the floor, punched through his mouth, and ripped out that slick pink muscle.
“I don’t need you screaming.” Gurgles and moans filled the silence. “Drill.” He pushed Joe’s lanky body over, popped the button on his jeans, and unzipped.
Ines handed AB a Craftsman,n and once the males member was free, hands tried to intervene. “No! No. You weren’t shy with those kids. Why be bashful now? Move!” AB smacked his drunk fingers. “That’s why you got a small dick, Joe! Open wiiiiide.”
The head of him winked just as Ab kissed it with an auger bit and pulled the trigger. Joe worked hard to holler, but Ines held his mouth shut.
Mr Liston thrashed as the spiral bit dug deeper, shredding skin and muscle. Blood oozed over AB’s knuckles as the drill worked like any food processor might.
Eating him raw and tearing his urethra to shreds. Ab enjoyed the carnage and freedom. Droplets whirled, and mangled pieces landed on his face. Tiny chunks of meat covered clothes and speckled the floor.
“Look at that.” AB giggled. “Pate.”
He removed his hand and sucked the pureed fixin’s from each digit while Ines yanked Joe’s molars out. Just in case. He went for fangs, and his green eyes disappeared to the back of his skull.
“He tastes like shit,” AB admonished. He spat and grunted at the foulness of tainted flesh.
“Yeah, all those drugs. Now you’re gonna be high, dumbass.”
AB laughed. “That’s the least of my worries. I wanna work him over slow. Like a pot roast. My dogs will love the bones. Chauncey has a thing for femurs.”
“I thought he liked tibias,” Ines said as he popped the cap on a tub of bleach. “Yeah, that one dude up in uhhhh, Tallahassee, who robbed you.”
“Ohhh no, yeah yeah. Chauncey did like his tibia, god. He gnawed on it for weeks. I’ve gotta flay em’ good this time, though, and roast the bones so there’s no residuals. No bad stuff for my babies. Okay, down the hatch, Joe.”
Ines poured bleach into his pie hole until it overflowed. He’d wake and drink it eventually, but a little Bella won’t hurt. At least not yet. This was another all-nighter, but of the bloodiest kind. It gave AB something else to focus on. Because the alternative irked his fucking nerves.
AB dropped Bella into Joe’s mouth. It mixed with bleach. Soon after, odd fumes percolated. “Maybe we should wear masks. Where are you taking Char for your anniversary?
“Oh shit, you’re right. Last time we passed out. I still got some in the trunk. And as for Char, she ain’t getting nothing. I’m taking her co-worker, Tonya, out instead. The bitch has got knockers like you wouldn’t believe. Hair platinum and legs for days.”
“You’re a piece of shit, Ines.”
“Eh, it takes one to know one.”
“You are most certainly right.”
“The wife ain’t going nowhere. She knows I get curious. We’ve been married for eighty god-awful years. Her yakking about money and whatnot cost her another anniversary. Maybe the old bag will shut the fuck up from now on.”
The male cackled in his crackly, husky manner and ran outside. Ines was a four-hundred-year-old Bostonian. He smoked like a chimney and used pomade in his hair. His style remained in 1960. If Ines didn’t wear a knitted shirt and trousers, something was wrong.
His buddy, as if he was auditioning for the next Scorsese mob picture, was proud as hell of it too.
“Okay, here. I got a whole box of N-95s from—”
“Don’t speak it, please.”
Ines grimaced as they put on masks from another time. Years Jaxon wanted to forget. Humans weren’t the only beings who had a shit time. Set and ready, he and Ines got busy. This was a great way to end a night.

Neon Red: Chapter 16

Interviews were tedious work; Tracy had a time researching bothersome, intrusive questions. His only concern was whether this male had the means and skill to fight. Perhaps some sort of marksmanship. He didn’t care to know who the person was or where they came from. Nevertheless, he pried and weathered on with asinine queries. Going down the list, he tapped on another.
“And what makes you qualified for this position?” Tracy asked.
The male was of grand stature with a decent amount of weight on him. He was brawny rather than muscular, with a wide build that could block and slam people into things.
“Uh, I was sired three years ago by my ex-girlfriend. Before that, I was a boxer in the human world. I’ll be forty-seven forever, but I’m in great shape.”
Tracy held back a gag. “Splendid, I can use someone like you. I find your history to be a plus, Russell. Before we wrap up, do you understand the dangers of this job?”
He nodded. “I do, Mr. Bissette.”
“Tracy, please, and that’s wonderful. I assure you, it’s slow around here. But if I need transport or some other services, you’ll be called in. You’ll work a minimum of four days a week.” He paused to wet his whistle with the finest espresso in Florida. “I don’t need you for everything. Most times I use my main guard, but even then, he only works four to five nights a week.”
“I’m not sure if this is what I’m looking for. I’m taking care of my mom and-”
“The pay is thirty-five an hour, and there is room for a hefty bonus at the end of the year.”
“Holy hell, that’s a lot of doe.”
“Yes, it is.” Tracy nodded. “And typically, you will get a full eight hours doing various things. Elliot is in charge of tasks. I am sure he’ll find you work.”
Russell beamed, and Tracy felt accomplished. This was the second person he interviewed, and the first failed. This male, however, even with his sickening human past, was personable and eager.
“I’m ready whenever you need me, Mr.- er, Tracy.”
“Good man. I want to hire you now, but unfortunately, you still need to pass one more interview. In truth, Elliot will be your superior. I’m not one to handle trivial things of this nature.”
Tracy shoved his chair back and rose. He was over the dreary process. Russell took heed and followed him to the front door.
“I will wait for Elliot’s decision, but I’m sure he’ll agree. You are an excellent fit. Until then, you’re free to go. Don’t stray too far from your phone.”
Russell smiled once again and extended a steady palm. “I’ll be waiting for his call.”
“You do that.”
Tracy opened the oak as Jaxon arrived. “Oh, look at our timing. How are you tonight, Jaxon?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
When he entered, Russell made an exit. “Stay safe, son.”
“You too, Tracy.”
Upon his departure, Tracy shut the door and met Jaxon in the kitchen. “That, sir, is top-shelf espresso. Jaya just made it.”
“She is a master at work. Her coffee is divine.”
Tracy agreed with a tight grin. “How is everything coming along? I wasn’t aware you’d take last night off.”
He sighed. “I’m done, actually.”
Tracy was delighted to hear the news as he poured himself a small cup. “Damn, I didn’t think you’d be done so fast. When can I expect a bill?”
“Tonight,” Jaxon muttered, stirring the blond bean batch. “But I need to speak with you about something first.”
The sentence slipped from his mouth like a threat. Tracy wedged a bit of distance between them.
“What is this about?”
“Your finances, of course.”
Jaxon faced Tracy, sipped the hot beverage, and pinned a glinting stare on him.
“Won’t you have a seat?” Gesturing to the breakfast nook, Tracy slid into the same chair he’d sat in mere moments ago. Jaxon appeared across from him with a cup and saucer. He was dressed to the nines in formal attire. A red three-piece suit and tidy hair pulled back, away from his face.
He seemed young, personable, friendly even. But in his gaze, Tracy noticed something else entirely. This dandy accountant wasn’t who he put into the world. Tracy had known many men like Jaxon.
Righting the crooked mat and off-center charger, Tracy nodded. “What is it you seek, Jaxon?”
“I think you should be asking what I, can do for you.”
Cutting eyes upwards, Tracy cocked a brow. “I’m not following.”
“As you already know, I’ve found some discrepancies. Rather substantial ones. You’ve got a lucrative business that makes too much money, Tracy.” Jaxon tipped his silver chalice and shrugged. “My job is to find these things. Review financial dealings and provide advice. And mine for you is, either stop what you are doing, or hire me to cook your books.”
This wasn’t threatening at all. He was offering a way out of a major fuck up Tracy didn’t even know existed. God damn it, he should have hired someone to do this years ago, like Jaya suggested.
“Okay, sure. You don’t have to twist my arm. How much do you want?”
“I don’t want money.”
Confounded, Tracy canted his head. “I am missing the mark again, I fear.”
“I want resources, I want transport, and I want more space.”
Now his demeanor made sense; the true beast underneath making his debut.
“My god, which part of the business are you?”
“Pharmaceuticals.”
“You’re a fucking drug dealer?”
Jaxon relaxed, crossed his legs, and snapped crisp, white cuffs. “If you wish to be formal, then all right. Yes, I’m a drug dealer.”
To think he came referred. “But you’re an accountant.”
“Yes.” Jaxon nodded and gulped down the rest of his coffee. “I am, but accounting as a hobby. It’s something I like to do. I like numbers, have a knack for organization, and adore meaningless tasks. The stuffy job humbles me at times.”
Tracy ran a hand over his waves and looked out the window. “Florida…” Rain was year-round, and as it came down with promises of a flash flood somewhere, Tracy didn’t know what to make of his confession.
“I don’t have resources.”
“Don’t lie to me, I read everything, Tracy. Your construction business is over 20,000 square feet. You’ve got that house in Doral. Not to mention, if I open a contract with you, I can build whatever I want without it looking too shady. As it stands now, I own a deli, a wing joint, and a god damn ice cream shop.”
Jaxon stood and marched back to the coffee. Tracy got the gist, but wasn’t sure about any of it.
After topping off his tiny cup, Jaxon added an awful lot of sugar. “I have my consulting business and two residential properties. I’ve only been here for eight years. I can not risk another buy without an audit. And I can’t afford that.”
“Just hire someone else.”
“I don’t trust anyone enough.”
“Why trust me?”
“You have shit to lose, Tracy.” As Jaxon pivoted, he shrugged. “And a daughter so deep in, she’d get ten years for every grand earned.”
Panic caused him to wince. “How did you come by this information?”
“I told you, it’s my job. Now, the way I see it, you’ve got something I need, and I have the means to make your financial hiccups go away. Plus, I have ships.”
“Ships for what?”
“Your raw meat business, I overheard you in your office. Listen, I got ties overseas and people who need a man on this side. If you help me, two for the price of one. You get more bodies and clean books. But in return, I want your basements and housing developments. I need more places to stash my inventory. It’s getting hot with my shit, and I need to move. Yesterday.”
Tracy ruminated. This was huge. Selling drugs and running humans was a biiiiiig operation he never signed up for. But with Matthias on board now, maybe another person on his team wouldn’t hurt. Someone he could trust. Matthias was not that person.
“So what?” Tracy looked up at him and frowned. “You wanna be partners?”
Jaxon stared into his cup and grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose so. I have more than enough room at my Brickell office. There’s even a second executive suite.”
“I’m not okay with being a middleman. I’ve done this on my own for a while now. I hire people to find me bodies, and I sell them. What are they willing to pay me? I want no less than ten grand on delivery for my services, and twenty percent of the sale.”
Jaxon hissed. “I don’t know if you’ll get that. But I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll agree to a partnership only after the paperwork is handled. I will be the one to draw up a contract, and we will both sign it.”
Jaxon acknowledged with the tip of his cup and said, “Looking forward to it.”
“There will be a fee, Jaxon.”
“I expected as much. We’ll talk numbers a little later.” Returning to his seat, Jaxon’s friendly smile made a comeback. But Tracy would never see him the same again. “For right now, tell me more about your business.”

Max worked hard not to wake, but her internal alarm clock wouldn’t allow that. Wiggling around reminded her of the day’s activities. She scooted across the empty space and threw an arm around Low. Max loved being the big spoon. Kissing his nape made the male groan.
“What time is it?” Low rumbled. The sexy, dusky tone echoed in her chest.
“I have no idea, nighttime.”
He sighed long and heavy, then faced her. His eyes, the color of slate, greeted her. “Wus good witchu?”
“My coochie hurts.” He cackled, and Max tried not to, ‘cause it wasn’t a joke. “Honey chile, I ain’t lying. Y’all wrong, for real. I think I need a walker.”
“Shit, say that then. You know I love a good stroke.”
Max smacked him on the forehead. “Yo breaff stank, hoe. Get out my face. All that dick sucking you did.”
“You’re one to talk, sluttin’ out all hours of the day. You love my fonkie breath anyway, shut up,”
“I do not.” She refuted, but his smile and proximity kneaded Max into mush. Low moved in and kissed her once, twice, a third time.
“Yes, you do,” he whispered, getting fresh under the sheets.
“Hol’ up, I ain’t got nothing for you.”
Letting Low have his way, he pushed Max onto her back. And she was prime for it. Thighs lax and body willing, her pussy flexed as their lips touched.
Gentle and slow, he entered her once again. It was nothing like the rough and tumble during those wee, early morning hours.
There was no place more comforting or familiar.
With him between and slipping inside, her body accepted the rising pressure and pleasure. Max knew every dip and curve. Low’s frame weighed heavily, offering her shelter and intimacy. Languid but steady, he dug her out, taking it easy after using her up hours prior.
Low played it safe while making the bed bounce. When he pulled away from her kiss, she locked arms around his waist.
“Oh baby—Lowwww. Yes…” Her breathy plea urged him onward. “I feel you, bab—oh shiiiit. I fee—make me—uggggh.”
The way he fit with his body pressed against hers left no room for oxygen. Max adored this and what he gave. With legs around his waist, she moaned his government title and dared not to cry as her breath hitched.
Toes curled, spine locked, and eyes rolled. She snapped.
Warm, lazy waves of ecstasy weaved its way through her. An orgasm woke Max proper as Low came down on her mouth once more. Soft and sweet, he grunted, carrying her through his own release.
Low collapsed, and Max took the male’s pounds. Hugging him tight, she closed her eyes as reality crept into their space.
Why did this have to hurt?
Feelings weren’t involved; allowed. She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore. The silence after their sensual descent had long begged for words neither dared to speak. Both denied its existence. Too scared, too broken, and scarred from past traumas.
Feeling him withdraw, Max shivered and laughed.
“I’m done, shorty.” He snickered and flopped onto his back. “I ain’t got nohtin’ left. I’m tapped out.”
Just as he said that, a hand found her tiddie.
She slapped it away. “That’s enough, Low! God damn. You’re finished, ‘member?”
“I know, it’s just your tiddies hanging out. I gotta touch ‘em at least one time.”
She laughed again and shook her head. “I gotta let you know one thing. Baby, that big bitch blew your back out.”
Low smacked his teeth and shot up out of bed. “Don—why you gotta bring it up?” He whined and dashed down the hall. Max followed him into the bathroom and couldn’t help but poke.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I get my shit broke all the time.”
He reached into the stall and turned on the water. “I do the back-breaking, okay?”
“I kowwww, I know. But you screamed his n—”
“Shut the hell up, Maxine Bernice, ‘fore I tear off into your ass. I’m not even gonna be able to look him in the eye.”
Max pushed him into the stall and stepped in. “But you fucked him up as well. His legs were shaking, remember that?”
“I do, yeah. You’re right. I held it down and wasn’t playing no kinda games. But you did, too, babe. I love how you held his balls. That was a good technique, shorty. I’m saying. You broke him doooown. But you know what? He’s mean as hell in them sheets. I figured that, but damn.”
They grabbed the soap and rags, lathering in a hurry.
“I didn’t think white boys were carrying weight.” Max shook her head and scrubbed. “I was bamboozled, lied to, and tricked. I watch porn, but I never thought, like, it was real life.”
Low stood in front of the spray and giggled. “That’s a misconception. I‘ve been with enough white men to know. Not every Black man is well hung, and not every white man is small.”
. “Don’t I know it.” She scoffed. “But look here, I have had some small ones that still gave me an orgasm through penetration. Them the ones to watch out for, ‘cause they know what they’re doing.”
Low smiled. “You not wrong, baby. But uhm, you think he wanna do this again?”
“No, no, I doubt it.”
“We’ve never had a threesome with the same person twice, Maxi. It’s against the rules.”
Max circled around and was pelted by lukewarm droplets. “Damn, Low. You don’t have it hot enough.”
“Shorty! Why you always gotta burn my skin?”
“It don’t even be hot like that.”
“It do too.” He frowned as she turned the heat up a little more.
“How can you get clean with cold water?”
“It’s not—”
“It is! Now get my back.”
Low grumbled and snatched the cloth out of her hand. “Stop yelling, with your big ass forehead.”
“So, you like it.”
He giggled again and washed her back because her lover was sweet like that.
“I gotta go to work,” Max whined. “I’m supposed to open the shop.”
“You probably late.”
She nodded, rinsed, and stepped out of the stall. “I surely am.”
Running for the hanging terry, she heard the door and froze. What to do, what to do. In a state of panic, Max twirled and jumped back in the shower.
“What in the—”
“He’s back,” she whispered.
Low’s dumb ass ducked and crouched. “Oh shit, go out there, Maxi.”
“You go. You’re the man, handle this shit.”
They quieted at the sound of approaching loafers. Low hunched, like that was gonna do something.
“Are y’all hungry?” Jaxon asked.
Max smelled his fine ass through the door. She bit her tongue to keep from cussing.
Low elbowed her, so she shoved him. He slipped and dropped to his ass.
“Uh, nah, nah.” He shrugged. “We good, for now.”
“You sure? I ordered out from GreenStreet cafe. I got eggs, country potatoes, and what else…”
Max slid to the tile, threw up her hands, and mouthed a true statement.
I’m so hungryyyy.
Low shook his head.
“I got waffles, French toast, and Cinnamon pancakes; those are my favorites.”
Her stomach hollered,d and Low snickered. She made a pinching symbol then moved onto praying hands.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, a little something. But I uh, we, got shit to do so, a lil’ sumn’.”
She nodded as Low stood and grimaced. They stilled, waiting for a response.
“No problem. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Yup.” Low shrugged again, nd nobody spoke until the door closed.
“What the fuck we gonna do now, Max? Hm? You want me to sit up here and have breakfast with that man? Damn, bruh.” Low stomped out of the stall and snapped a towel. “After last night, hell nah. Plus, we never stay afterwards, Max. That’s our rule. Even more, he brought me outta character. I don’t like that. My spirit can’t handle it. I wanna fight him. To assert my dominance.”
Max dried and stared at Low. “Baby, there ain’t nothing you can do. He’s—”
“Don’t say it. Please don’t. Because I know.” He snapped the soft cotton for a second time and wrapped it around his hips. She just held her’s closed, ‘cause they weren’t made for fluffy people.
When they marched into the bedroom, Low yelped and smacked the wall. “You a nosy muh’fucka!”
Max was aghast as Red leaned against the wall. Looking reeeal pleased with himself.
“And you’re a liar,” she spouted. “That was an invasion of privacy, asshole!”
She stormed for her clothes, gathered articles, and turned her nose up all the way back into the bathroom. Max slammed the door and whined. He looked great and smelled—No, no. Her life was complicated enough. Red was an animal, a ferocious beast who ate pussy and fucked like sex provided the very oxygen in his lungs. There was no room in her life for something or someone like him. And the way shit was going, she wouldn’t even have space left for her own thoughts.

It’s two days late, and I am sorry for that, y’all. Summer is a sad time for me. Nothing drastic happened; I just don’t like it. Lol. Most come alive during the summer months, I DO NOT. I am my least vibrant self. I litterly call it sad girl summer because I am in such low spirits. I can’t wait for fall and winter. UGGGH. Anyway, here is chapter 16! Where we get to witness the aftermath, the night after, the POST NUT CLARITY hits hard here. And you know what? I loved how honest they were about the whole ordeal. Max and Low aren’t afraid to talk about the awkward things, and I love that most about them. Their communication could use some work, but I think their transparency played a major part in the relationship. Now, let’s hope they continue this trend moving forward. Until next time, loves, thank you, and have a wonderful week. Byyyyeee.

Neon Red: Chapter 15

Low did not want to  kill this man and run ass out through the back. But if he started jaw jacking, his dome was about to get knocked off. On top of that, they had to move quickly. ‘Cause this big, fine, ginger was ancient. He was bound to have skills beyond their own.
Swift, strong, and cunning.
Underestimating meant death. Jaxon had every advantage. He’d clap them both without wasting a breath. But Low had eyes on everything. The vampire’s flexing hands and tense thighs said he wanted to act.
“Pulling that trigger would be the last mistake you ever make.” Jaxon smirked and said, “This house is crawling with vampires who’d gut you and her for it. You’d never make it off the property.”
Calm and remote, Jaxon didn’t give a fuck, but as Max shuffled inside, his low lidded stare remained.
“You not innocent as I thought.”
“And you ain’t no accountant,” Max proclaimed.
“Yes, I am.”
She sneered while Low’s gun stayed pressed to Jaxon’s skull. “You want money or what… how much you want?”
The male chuckled. “There you go again, assuming shit. Oh my god, this is like a huge issue with—does she always—”
Agile, strong, and calculating.
Jaxon rammed his temple into the barrel. Distracting Low gave him the upper hand. Red grabbed his wrist and twisted.
Low hollered from the assault.
His arm nearly snapping it right off, he dropped the Glock. Red kicked it under the bed. Max moved mean and punched Jaxon in the diaphragm. Her fast thinking forced a release.
Low lunged for the gun and was still too slow. Jaxon snatched his shirt, but Maxi was at it again. She growled and bit the males forearm.
After another release, she dove for the pistol herself and Red recovered. “You a fast one ain—”
Low yanked the alphas hair and gave shorty enough time to clutch that .45.
Using their natural speed, she popped up, aimed and let one hit. Max tossed the hot steel instantly. She was a brave female, but she’d never shot anyone before.
Two seconds later, men barrelled through the door and ran in from the patio. Low threw his hands up because yes,  they were out numbered. Four green dots speckled his stomach and five were aimed at Max.
“Oh fuck, you’re gonna kidnap me…oh god, Low he’s gonna want a ransom. Oh shit. I meant to kill you, though.”
Low groaned. “Girl shut uuuup. Please, baby, just hush for a minute I really can’t take—”
“Don’t tell me to hush. I am really stressed right now.”
“I know, me too, the hell y—”
“This man is gonna kill me, Low.” She was terrified, and yeah, Low was finna shit himself. Typically, he wasn’t scared of anyone except for the IRS. But damn it, the mere thought of losing Max polarized him.
“Sir, are you okay?”
Jaxon cut to the man in black and nodded. “I’m good, it itches.” Flaring, red eyes darted around the room.
“You’re not good, AB. Ya bleeding for christ sake.” Another guy made his way into the room and sniffed.
“Back up off me, blood.” Low growled as his fangs elongated. “I’ll kill you before they get me, I promise you that, bruh.”
“What we gonna do in here, AB?”
“Get out.”
The male with a rough accent scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”
“I said get out, Ines!”
His thundering demand made them move and post haste. The last ninety seconds flew by and felt like an eternity. Low just had them thangs on him, now they were alone again while Wus Good played in the silence.
Awkward.
“My dad can pay you.”
“Listen, listen, I need you to shut up.” Jaxon made a request, and Low eyed her. He mouthed, ‘calm down’. She frowned, but crossed her arms and flopped into the armchair. Low, however, watched Red as he growled and sauntered past her.
Max shrugged and stabbed a finger at the door.
Low gave the cut off signal then stopped, noticing Jaxon’s leery red gaze from the bathroom.
“You won’t be able to leave until I allow it so…” The door slammed and running water followed.
“What are we gonna do?” Max whispered.
Low deadpanned. “Baby, he can still hear you.”
“Right.”
She lifted a finger, grabbed her two-ton bag, and wrestled with its contents before plucking out her phone. He nodded and fell on the chaise when a text came through.
Little Mermaid: We gotta figure out how to leave.
He stabbed keys and replied quick.
Cold Blooded: You see how tight his security is?
She nodded then typed.
Little Mermaid: What does an accountant need with security?
Low pointed and wondered the same thing. He lied, ain’t no way Red crunched numbers for a living. In the process of hitting her back, the bathroom door swung open.
“Seriously? Are y’all texting each other right now?”
Jaxon stomped from the washroom and ripped Max’s phone out of her hand.
“You want me to shoot you in the head next?”
Jaxon grunted. “Y’all are fuckin’ nuts, certifiable.”
He threw the android in her lap, and poked at the hole in his shoulder. He may as well take the tank off, it had blood on it… and it was hot. Low grimaced. What the fuck was he thinking?
“And you, Maxine. You all of five-two, but had the gall to square up with a pureblood. I’m six-six a-”
“No you ain’t.” Low snickered, and it might have been the wrong time, but his ass was lying…again.
“Yes, I am.”
“You more like six-four. Don’t do too much.”
Jaxon’s jaw fell. “What is wrong with you? Are you not grasping the totality of this situation? I could kill you, right now.”
“Nah, I am.” Running a hand over his beard, Low shrugged. “But don’t be height fishing. You good, no need to lie.”
Easing into the chaise, Low admired Max while she observed Red and said, “We have millions.”
“I don’t want your daddy’s little  money.” Stalking his big self to the wet bar, Jaxon frowned. “And I don’t wanna kidnap you. Fuck. I need ice.” He spared a moment of silence to pour Henny and swig.
A second helping followed.
“I wasn’t gonna snitch or whatever the hell. You jumped to conclusions, as usual. I’ve known you for all of a week, Max, and I see your negative personality traits loud and clear.”
The female crossed her arms with an eye roll. “Yeah yeah, I’m working on it.”
“No you not,” Low spat. “Why is everybody lying right now?”
Jaxon snapped his fingers and continued, “I was just bringing it to your attention. Tracy is one false move away from going to prison. Unless…” On the turn around, he leaned against the bar. “I can cook his books.” Hitting the liquor, Jaxon peeped over the rim.
Max frowned and said, “I’m not the one you need to be talking to.”
“I know that, don’t you worry your pretty head about it, Maxine.” He hissed her name and snarled. “I will handle the rest.”
Shorty sighed and said, “Well, we should go. This was fun, but it’s about that time.”
Red slammed his glass on the mirrored side table, and faced them again. “You shot me for no reason. This shit escalated too quickly. You went from accusing me of stalking you, to accusing me yet again. Only to put a hot slug in my shoulder. You owe me another apology, mama.”
Low fought a smile, ‘cause Red was telling facts and had a major point. But Max hated being wrong and she wasn’t perfect. Never one to admit she fucked up or take accountability, was a huge problem. They got into it about this very same thing a bunch of times. Low was no better, though, and two people who wasn’t shit, being not shit together, made for a happy couple…an almost happy couple.
“This is kind of bad,” Max nodded. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I overreacted.”
Low scoffed. “Oh, I know you are not folding that easy.” He stabbed her with a narrowed gaze. “After all the times you—wowwwww. Okay, damn, you wild, shorty.” Feelings hurt and all he pouted.
“Low, I shot him,” Max pointed out, as if he didn’t see the whole thing. “It’s not like I drank the last of his limeade.”
Low jacked to his feet and gasped. “I knew you did it! Tried to make me look crazy, thinking I drank all my shit.”
Max looked up at Red. “This was two years ago. He stores grudges for a rainy day, it’s sooo bad.”
“It don’t matter how long ago it was, shorty. Ten years we been rockin, and you play me like that. Damnnnnn.”
“You drank the last of his favorite juice, I presume? Then you lied about it.” Red smirked. “That’s cold.”
Low clapped and said, “Thank you, thannnk you. Eccczactly.”
“Fine, I’m sorry I drank your juice. I’ll buy you some more.”
“I want ten cartons! For damages and distress!”
“I hear you.”
Spinning around, he eyed the Glock and swiped it. Low shoved the piece back into its holster and pointed at Max.
“Let’s head out, we done here.” Shorty got busy, gathering her things while Low stepped to the bar and clocked cognac.
“Is this all you drink?”
“Hell yeah.”
He chuckled, fashioned himself a half glass and smashed it. “I ain’t never had Hine before, it’s  smooth.”
“I can’t find my glasses.”
“In the chair, baby.”
She searched, skipping right over the damn frames. “I don’t see them.”
“Behind you,” Low muttered.
“Oh.”
Red sighed in passing and stopped at the nightstand. He snatched open a drawer and pulled out…gummy worms?
“You want some?” He shook the bag and Max rounded to his side.
“Yeah, are they sour?”
“Nah, I shoulda got some sour ones.”
She dug into the bag with him and Low scratched his head, perplexed.
From guns to fucking candy?
“I got Jolly Ranchers, too.”
“I’ll take one,” Low said as he joined the duo and was given a handful of blue. “Man if you don’t take all these nasty ass blue things.”
Red chuckled. “You don’t like them either?”
“Hell nah.”
“I got cherry, watermelon, and peach left.”
“I’ll take cherry.”
“A man with good taste.”
Max smiled. “I want peach.”
This wasn’t exactly how Low saw the night going. But, he still ended it by sucking on something sweet.

This had to be the weirdest night of her life. Max went from shooting someone, assuming she was about die, to eating gummy worms. They were good though. With her palm out, Red dispatched a few peach Jolly Ranchers.
“Thanks. Now I really feel bad about shooting you. I didn’t mean to though.”
“You distinctly said you aimed to kill me.”
She snorted. “I mean yeah, sure, but people say a lot of shit in the moment.” Max peeped his boredom and tried not to laugh, but failed.
“What’s so funny?”
She was small and they were too close, which meant, her neck almost cracked looking up at Jaxon.
“Nothing, mind yours.”
“Give my damn candy back, since you wanna be rude.”
“No.” She frowned and backed up, “It’s mine now.” she twirled the peach candy open and grinned.
“You ready, shorty?”
“Yeah.”
She heard Jaxon sigh as his larger than life frame plopped onto the chaise. Popping the treat in her mouth, Max couldn’t help but notice his eyes. The spooled gold glinted as he stared at her. Or studied them more like it. She shrugged and glanced at Low who nudged his chin towards the door.
“What happened to our plans?” Jaxon asked, in a deep guttural tone that garnered her attention.
“I’m sorry?” She clacked her tongue ring against hardened sugar and sucked on it to keep from talking.
“What about you, Low?”
She cut to her lover as he smiled with a mouth full of golds. “Uh, I don’t uh…I figured that was off the table. Cause you know…”
“Because?” Red smirked. “Because I got shot? Thing is, about that, it ain’t real if somebody don’t bleed first.”
Max’s breath hitched. She hacked and swallowed the candy by accident. Oh god, he was a nut job, sexy as shit, kinda scary, but not. Those arms…he should be in the woods, swinging an axe. And why was his nose pierced like that?
Jaxon bore into her as his broad chest awakened her curiosity.
“Low, maybe—”
“You a special kinda horny, Red. And any other night I’d maybe—”
“Why you acting like a pussy all of a sudden? You’ve been talking a lot of shit, Elliot.”
Low chuckled and relaxed against the wall, eyes narrowing. “Don’t go there with me. You an old male who can’t keep up with this here.” Licking his lips, Low shook his head. She needed popcorn and glass of wine. “Plus, I doubt you’ve even been with a man, you’ve ignored every pass I have made. I don’t need no curious dick in my life. I been there with straight men, and ain’t never going back.”
Jaxon shot to his feet. Max backpedaled, clearing a path.
He pointed at Low and beamed. “Outta you two, I thought she was the hardest to convince. But it’s you, ain’t it?”
They met eye to eye damn near and stood inches apart. Max swallowed, tingling with envy.
“You’re reading me all wrong, Low. Yes, I am old. Very. So it should come at no surprise that I have never been or will be, straight.”
Oooo come on now. Jaxon yanked up Lows shirt and snatched the gun free. His scent rolled in waves, and overwhelmed the humid murkiness from outside.
It pulsated and thickened as he shoved the pistol under Low’s chin.
“Uh oh.” Max whispered. She had to do something, what if Jaxon lost it.
“I’ve sucked more bureaucratic dick than years you have been alive. I’ve fucked more men than you have, and that’s a certainty. If you ever, put a gun to my head again, it’ll be the last thing you do on this earth.”
Her breath came in pants, and thighs trembled. She watched, wanting what they had. Max inhaled a lung full and swayed. Their scents were an aphrodisiac. Low’s stoicism, and unwavering eye contact made her pine for some attention. Max had always been greedy and needy, this wasn’t their first threesome. They had them all the time. Men, women, shit…all genders, no genders.
It was open season and she hated being left out.
Jaxon smirked, his free hand tunneled around and Low hissed. “Violence is the vampire equivalent of Viagra, is it not? And you, Ms. Bissette!” She flinched when he turned around, pistol aimed at her. “What you wanna do to me now?”
“I dont know.”
“Liar.”
“I just—”
Jaxon stood before her; the tallest of redwoods. Thick, aged, and majestic. Arms like fat boughs and tresses of burning fall leaves.
“The only thing you need to understand, Max, is that I want you. Not later, not tomorrow. But right now.”
His scent invaded, coiling within the walls of her swollen pussy. She wanted to ask why and what made her so special as a lowly halfbreed.
Fuck allat.
Max dropped her bag and whimpered. “Whatever you say Re—Oh shit!” Jaxon picked her up with one arm, and next thing she knew her back met the wall so hard a panting fell.
He growled and snarled, “You got a loud ass mouth, and I wanna hear that shit too.”
“What?”
Lord knows how, or when he removed her pants, but he had. And god damn, they lied! Everybody who said white boys were small, they were liars straight from the pits of hell! Max gasped only for her lungs stall as he broke through and slipped…better yet, rammed his dick into her guts.
“Oh my god!”
“Yeah, I am your god now.” His lips whispered against hers. “Now say sorry.” He purred, starting a deadly motion. “Tell me you sorry, Max.”
“I’m so—”
He didn’t let her speak, using those lush lips, Jaxon kissed her like a furious, starving beast. The force came second to the ache between her legs.
Sensations erupted as he filled her out.
Flexing around him, her pussy stretched and accommodated. Nipples tingled and skin tightened while she tasted and teased.
Max begged for it, and mewled, arching and opening.
As he tore away, she stared into a golden lake of desire and heaved.
“You want it now, huh?”
“Yea.”
One thrust and she bucked.
“Fuck!” Max cried.
“Hold on tight, now.”
She should have taken his word for it, ’cause not even a second later, he gripped her thighs and ravaged Max up against the wall. Mean, and thorough, he eased in and pulled out in such a way that everything shook loose.
Her brain rattled, lamps dared to tip over, and her pussy creamed around his girth. Digging nails into his shoulders, she clutched with pangs of lust riding her raw.
“Oh shii—waiiii—I’m ’bouta cum! I’m gonna cum I swa-” He choked her. Blocking airways, the slut tore her shit down. He was unkind with knitted brows, fangs, and a bitter snarl. She wasn’t used to this at all, but on the cusp of a release eyes rolled.
He touched her ribs and grunted.
The marrow-melting friction intensified and twisted into a prickling ball that threatened her sanity. His claws scored her flesh as thrusts quickened, causing her hold to slip.
Jaxon used Max’s pelvis as a stress reliever.
“I’m sorrry, I’m sorryyyy, shhhit! I’m sorrrry,” she wailed.
He destroyed her insides and mixed them guts.
Max was about to go ape shit.
Ready to beg and plead, pleasure consumed her.
Mind and body were held hostage by an orgasm, a reckoning that made her scream. She wanted mercy and for him to keep going. “Ughnnghh-uhhhhgghghh-” She growled through growing fangs and moaned. Max returned his ruthlessness with a vicious eye. The ass hole was grimey with his dick. He didn’t even know her like that.
Motha Fucka.
“Put. Me. Down.” She gritted the words because this wasn’t right. The male was flush, and reddened by what he’d done.
Prick.
“I sa—”
He rolled his hips and she whimpered.
“I think we understand how things go now, don’t we?”
“Yes! Now let me down.” She snapped and wanted to spit in his face. The big fine red-haired monster withdrew and hissed.
“Why the hell are you so tight, ma’am?”
“Kegals and vinegar, bitch.”
He growled and wrapped a big hand around her neck. “You wanna do this again?”
“Not yet, share the wealth. God damn. Up off me”
Sliding down the wall, she landed on the floor, and leaned. Max stumbled into the nightstand; he helped her upright.
“I’m fine.” Max had to have some dignity here. “I can walk.” She retrieved her pants, looked at Low and tried not to blush or cry. Her man was undone and fidgety. His leg bounced as he gave a tight smile.
“Woooow, look at the time.” Low feigned a yawn and stretched. Max giggled while he punked out.
“I know you are not…” She sputtered as Red turned and stared at her homie, lover, friend.
Low shook his head. “It’s late, it’s getting late—you wanna go, Max?”
She was unimpressed. “No.”
“I think I’m tired, though. Feel a headache coming on.”
“Don’t look like it.” Red added. Low’s strong man was standing at attention. If Max had to suffer a god damn beat down then it was only fair if he suffered with her.

AB couldn’t think straight, the room went on a little spin and there were two men sitting in the chair instead of one. Her scent was on his tongue. It stained his skin while her cream was left to rest upon cooling flesh.
His heart rate decreased and body stiffened. After such a sublime release AB should have been ready to pass out, but nah. He wanted the other half.
His hunger hadn’t been sated quite yet. Low’s cocoa brown lips and stormy eyes beckoned.
“You running from this dick already?” AB asked.
“Fuck you, bruh”
“By all means, please.” AB hissed.
Low covered the smiled that curled his precious mouth. If he didn’t move quick, AB was about to lay the little one out ‘til she collapsed from overexertion.
“You know what? I don’t even got no glide on me. I don’t eve—”
“I got it,” Max cut in with the save. She hefted her satchel and rifled through it. What she pulled out made AB happy as hell.
“What were you saying?”
Low’s lips thinned, glaring at Max. “Baby, why you got that in your purse?”
“Cause you never know when you’ll need lube, and look. We need it.”
She smiled and gave a thumbs up. This woman had nerve, being so god damn sexy and cute at the same time. AB shrugged and rounded to the other side.
“Excuses aren’t gonna help you here, Low.” AB pulled a hair tie from his pocket and did what he had to do. With tresses bound, he smirked. “How about I help you relax?”
Low’s brows popped. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Sure—if you comforta—ooooookay.”
AB wasn’t a perfectionist per say, but he figured, if you were gonna do anything, give it your absolute best. And in many avenues of his life, the motto acted as motivation.
Dropping to his knees, he shoved Lows legs apart and clawed at his waistband. “Boxers, seriously? You’re wearing gray sweat pants.”
“I’m Conservative. I ain’t out here being a slut, okay.”
AB snarled and yanked on his pants, boxers followed. Classless. He’d never wear a second layer with grays. Irritation faded when Low’s solid shaft bobbed free.
AB’s own dick danced again at the sight of this males blessed endowments.
Low grunted and scooted forward. “Go ‘head and ease my stress.”
Velvety and thick. AB clutched him and watched the response with bloated arrogance. Low bit down on his lip and bucked. His excitement glistened on the blunt head, tempting AB like another type of candy.
He flicked at it with the tip of his tongue, making Low grunt. The musky, earthy flavor lingered and he wanted more. He started at the base and laved.
There was a lot of ground to cover. Teasing the spot just below his head made Low groan and grip the fluffy armchair.
Glutinous and impatient, AB kissed the tip and devoured him slowly.
He jutted, encouraging action. Cradling his heavy set, AB worked with caution. He improved suction and massaged the males heavy sac.
“Ohhh fuuuuuck,” Low choked out a response. The sound pleased AB immensly. He wanted to hear it again. Committing to the motion, he used skill and speed. Simultaneous actions created a rhythm most couldn’t keep up with. The twist of his neck, an embracing tongue worked in unison with a tight grasp.
AB added flair and swallowed the head. He slid down, into his throat. “Shit!” Low’s bark would have made him smile, if his mouth weren’t full.
AB put in that work. Up and down, deep and suffocating. His gag reflex was non existent. Eons, fuckin’ centuries of giving head secured his status as a deep throat champion.
Spiraling and tugging, caressing and sucking, AB kicked it into fifth gear, forcing Low’s head to fall back. Pleasure raked through them both. Watching someone cum because of him—a hand.
Oh shit!
A warm palm wrapped around him and worked vigorously. He moaned with Low deviling deeper and didn’t stop. Pressing on, AB performed to perfection. Thanks to Max, his neck game grew nasty as she jerked him the fuck off. Slick and heated, he saw stars as Low’s nails scraped his scalp, the male grunted and used him up.
With Max down below and Low taking control, he fucked his throat and came with a curse. A nano second later, AB’s desire boiled over and erupted. His body listed, and if it wasn’t for Low, he would have melted into the floor.
“Get the fu—”
The male withdrew with a pop and shot upward, pulling AB with him.
AB smiled, spun around, and fell face first onto the mattress.
Ass up and face down, he spread wide and enjoyed the sensation of the gel on his booty hole. Max appeared in his line of sight, grinning. “Hope you enjoy this.”
“I want you in my mou—Ohhhh, yesss!”
Low stretched him with ease. No prep needed, AB old and well versed. The glorious sensation sent chills through his body. Spurts of pain paled in comparison to striking bolts of pleasure. He shivered and arched until Max appeared.
And dear heavens…her pussy was fat, sloppy, sexy as hell and wet as rain. She opened and flexed her pretty pink slit.
“Damn it!” He shouted at both her plump petals and Low’s dick, stroking him just right.
AB hissed and plundered her folds. Slippery as fine as silk, he ran over her clit with his eager tongue. Her preening flooded airways, and amplified his heightened nerves. “God Low, you fuck like a grandp—“ He slapped his ass and impaled him.
AB gasped and received a second thunder clap, then third.
Dining on Max had become difficult once Low’s motion began. He rocked the boxspring, the headboard, and peeled his fuckin’ guard back. AB ground his molars and welcomed the beating.
Low growled like a full grown vampire and yanked on his hair. That was a no go and he’d pay for it later. AB was too busy with trying to breathe as his head dropped, resting on Max’s thigh.
The female tweaked her own pearl and rolled her hips.
Oxygen stalled as his body tensed and Low pummeled his prostate.
The world vanished.
All AB heard was Max come while Low’s release spilled inside of him.
His orgasm came with white hot rage, AB roared. Shaking bottles on the bar, they exploded as he was immersed into another round of delirium.
“My turn!” Max yelled. Shirts and her bra flew across the room. In a haze, AB admired the tat on her chest. It was fucking beautiful. So was the skull covering the expanse of Low’s back.
On the verge of coming again, he watched as the male stretched her supple walls. AB was prepared to sleep in the wet spot if need be. HFS, what he received was unfamiliar and uncommon. After many years of fucking, he knew every sensation. Before, during and after. The shit rarely changed, but this felt weird, different even. He wasn’t too sure if he liked the startling realization.
With marrow running hot and legs shaking, he was left to cool.
To harden like a well used wash rag.
Low peeked over his shoulder and said, “Gimmie what she got.”
AB chuckled, though unsure. “I don’t know if she can—”
“I’m a goddamn vampire, too! Put it—put—oh hhhhh, Lowww, I want it! Put that weight on me.”
She cried as the male stirred them guts.
“Fine with me.”
After grabbing the lube, he did the honor of covering Low’s fat ass. Oh god, he had stretch marks. AB made a disgusting noise as he played in the silicone-based liquid. “Neither of you will leave here in one piece.”
They ignored his promise, but would soon realize how serious he was.

Neon Red: Chapter 14

A suit was one thing, a mussed dress shirt was another. But this, the lack of formal wear, suited Jaxon well. Max’s thoughts were in a continuum. Visually, he overwhelmed her. The heady cologne waged war with its high, dark notes and a sweet musk riding low. She’d lost her tongue in the car and battled an impulse to moan.
“Where are we anyway?” she asked, as Low helped her out of the car. And, oh yeah, him too.
“What she said.” Low smiled deliciously.
What had she done in her past life to be tortured so ruthlessly? They were thick pieces of vampire male, and standing between them, waiting, Max never felt small or delicate. And she was a far cry from demure.
Low was Jaxon’s speed, so it was good if he wanted in on that. Elliot Collins often used his sensual elegance to get what he wanted most.
“So…” Max cleared her throat.
“I heard you the first time.” Jaxon lowered a lidded gaze and grinned. “We’re going to my friend’s house. You remember Ines?”
Smoke swirled in murky, mid-June air and framed his perfect features.
“Of course, the Italian from Boston, not New York.”
“Nice observation. Let’s go.”
Jaxon started their journey, and they fell in line willingly. What would a man like him want from her? Nothing was the answer; that’s why Max knew his interest was a farce. He had a fluid gait and voluminous waves. The color of an irate Venus sky and adorned with thin strips of spooled gold. It was gorgeous.
Unnatural.
Max felt sleazy, gawking like a swooning teenager. She focused on Low, who was no better, and jabbed him in the torso with her elbow.
“Don’t stare,” she whispered.
As they marched down a quiet street, Max gathered from high brush and gates that this was a classy neighborhood. These people made more than her father, median easily in the multi-millions. Mansions towered behind stone and ivy.
“I would have liked a heads up, bruh.” Low pulled from his blunt and purged smoke. “I typically like to look better for a kick back, you feel me.”
“It’s not that serious.”
“Still, I prefer it.”
“What you searching for?” Jaxon glanced back at them with a nasty smile. “A compliment?”
Low shook his head when the male faced forward. “If I was? You up here in the latest and greatest. Balinchi-gaga and shit.”
Max frowned at her lover. “Don’t do that, you know better than anyone how good you look. Name brands mean nothing.”
He cocked a brow. “Says Shorty in Chanel.”
They embarked on an incline that turned into a winding drive. At the tippy top was a decent home, if you loved dreariness and glass. The house was nothing more than tinted windows and steel beams.
“Wow, I dig the architecture.”
“No, you don’t.” Max dismissed Low’s lie. He loved inviting and warm. Wood and greenery. Nothing too bright or clean. Whereas Max enjoyed modern, architectural wonders.
After taking the shallow stairs, Jaxon didn’t knock before opening the door.
When he barged in, they followed, and Low grabbed her hand. Oohhh, how she swooned over his protective streak and attentiveness.
Entering the house, various scents and sights captured her attention. The cool air was a jarring contrast to the sticky summer heat.
Creeping through a narrow foyer, they brushed shoulders and squeezed past kissing, grinding couples. Bodies on top of bodies. Music drummed in her ears, and she appreciated the vibe. Glass Animals was a good choice given the intimate atmosphere. Zaba was a great Album, their best, to be frank.
The foyer opened to a three-way street; Jaxon banked left. Max was grateful for wider halls and the breathing room.
“Damn.” Low chuckled and said, “I like this party.”
Standing slightly above the crowd, Max giggled. “Me too.”
Their trio stepped into the sunken living room, doubling as a nightclub,b and eyed some goodies.
“Aye,” Jaxon shouted, nodding at someone. A female, a woman, a human. Max licked her lips. The girl bounced over and stopped in front of Red, as Low called him.
“Hay AB, I got some left, you want a sip?”
Jaxon didn’t respond, but his actions were swift and visceral. He yanked the woman by the back of her neck. She dangled three feet off the ground as fangs penetrated. There was growling, slurping, and carrying on.
“My third leg finna start walking,” Low whispered into her ear. Max choked on laughter. “I’m serious. Look at him.”
Oh, she was looking alright, and trapped in hell too. Little Miss was happy when her feet touched the hardwood. She sighed, as if he hadn’t almost killed her.
“Y’all want some?”
“Sweetheart, do you know where you are?” Max yelled in the girl’s face and clutched her shoulders. “Have you been drugged? Abducted? I can get you outta here, my taser is my bag, honey.”
The wee one let a high-pitched laugh slip. “No. Why would I wanna leave? I’m making money. And my mortgage needs to be paid somehow.”
“Oh.” Max relinquished the bitty and nodded. “Ohhhhh okay, I get it. My bad.” She shot a glance in Jaxon’s direction and regretted it. The male sucked on a digit and licked the tip. “I thought, you know.”
“You have a problem with not reading the room,” Jaxon clipped.
Low giggled and added his commentary, though no one asked. “She do. I tell her all the time.”
“Shut up,” Max growled. “Nobody asked.”
With Red leading the way, they weaved through a tasty crowd and landed on an enormous sofa. “Every human you come across is being paid to be here.”
“Damn,” Low muttered. “Like that?”
He was astonished, and Max shared his view.
“Yeah, and if you partake, tip them.”
“What you mean, tip?” Low grimaced. He was a cheap, penny-pinching grandfather at times. They didn’t go to strip clubs often ‘cause of it. Despite Max begging for a trip to K.O.D., he remained a Scrooge.
“For what?” Low queried.
“They are providing a service, sir. So it’s only fair if you tip. They have a half pint minimum; if you go over that, it’ll cost you a blue note.”
“God damn,” Low snarled, sitting on the arm of the couch. “What kinda scam you running up in here?”
“I don’t have anything to do with this. Do you want anything?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
Max bit her tongue, knowing he only liked cold blood. For valid reasons, but still.
“Nothing? We have about twenty humans up in here.”
“No Red, damn, stop asking me.”
“He don’t like hot blood.”
Low hissed and shoved her. “That wasn’t any of his business, yo big ass mouth, bruh.”
Jaxon’s stare raked over Low, disgust riding his pretty face. “Oh, so you weird, weird. This is extremely odd behavior for a full grown vampire. You know how it looks, right?”
“Listen, calm down with tryna fit in, talk white,” Low spouted.
Jaxon cackled, and Max wanted to dip her tongue in those dimples. “What does talk white mean? I speak how I want, how I have for over a hundred years. You don’t like it, kiss my ass.”
“Ooooo.” Low chuckled and diverted attention to some ugly girl. She was lanky, bowlegged, and her hair was dry. “There you go, being uppity again. Don’t make me break yo ass in, bruh.”
Max gasped and smacked his shoulder. “Be nice, Low. Don’t be doing too much, now.”
“I don’t give a damn, and I need a drink, I know that.”
Jaxon threw both arms over the couch and watched as Low ascended. “What gives you the impression I need to be broken in?”
Another gasp punched through her mouth. Though Max kept her hands to herself this time. “Y’all are getting mighty candid. Should I give you two a moment alone?”
Low snorted. “Please, he don’t know what to do with a king like me.”
“Can you bring me back something?”
“I don’t think they got no brandy, baby.”
“Then tequila on ice.”
“Ight, don’t get fresh, Red… unless she lets you. But I wanna watch.”
“Get the fuck!”
“The bar is upstairs,” Jaxon smirked. “You can bring me back a glass of cognac. Neat.”
Low ran off with a giggle, and that ass bounced with him.
Jaxon glanced at Max and leaned into her. The action made her melt. “Are you into that weird shit too?”
“Me? No, but I need a ripe one.” Scanning the room, she took in the droves of men and woman. “I want her.” Max pointed to a stacked, tall dame in a corset. She filled out the top and bottom.
Jaxon high whistled. “Carmen!”
“Of course, you know these women by name,” she mumbled, not surprised because he exuded ‘no good ass man’ arrogance. His attitude and demeanor made that shit clear as day.
Carme used her bountiful hips like weapons. “Hay big daddy, how you doing?”
“I been better, she wants a nibble.”
Carmen held a warm smile as she sat next to Max. Her blessed map of veins illuminated beneath glowing mahogany skin. Ambient lighting was her best friend. God damn Black women were gorgeous.
“They treating you good?” Max asked.
Carmen recoiled. “They always do, and they pay, okay.”
“You so pretty, and you smell nice, too.”
“Awww, thank you.”
Max admired her corset, growing more envious by the second. “Where did you buy this fit, though?”
“Torrid or Fashion Nova…I can’t recall, but it was one of the two.”
Max nodded but stared at Carmen’s main, pulsating artery. It taunted and tempted her empty stomach.
Licking her lips, Max noticed how her fangs had come on down to play. “Well, where do you um… You know, wrist or wherever?”
“Right,” she laid a hand on the curve of her breast, “here.”
“Okay.” Max agreed, quick and without deliberation, she growled. Sinking fangs into Carmen’s flesh, she gripped onto her waist. Digging deeper, Max gnawed. Max hadn’t taken a fresh vein in five years. This shit was a narcotic, addicting, and soooooo much better than drinking from a cup. Max would rather not stop, but knowing she must, and when to, she paused.
Her forehead rested on Carmen’s shoulder as the heart slowed and the body went ape shit. Pleasure and euphoria worked like any vice. She groaned and settled into a cloud.
“Oh my god, Carmen,” Max smiled. “You are sweet and full-bodied, baby.”
“Thank youuuu. I work hard for that.”
“I can tell, shiiiiit.” The music reverted into something slow, chopped, and screwed. “You gotta a uhhhmmm,” her mind buzzed with feel goods. Lazy and dragging, her thoughts came together, “Cash app? Zelle?”
“I sure do, honey.”
After sifting through her heavy bag for what seemed like eons, Max found her phone. “You deserve a nice tip, Carmen.” Tapping numbers, she giggled. “Three hundred should do it.”
“No, no I—”
“Shhhhhh.” Max waved at the chit chat and sent her funds. “There you go, doll. Us big girls gotta support each other, okay?”
“Thank you, baby. You want anything, AB?”
“Nope, I’m good, love.”
Carmen rose with them thighs, and Max sighed. “I enjoyed that very much.” She giggled again and said, “I can’t even think straight. It’d be nice to get that every night…”
“Why can’t you?” Jaxon asked, his buttery timbre casting a naughty spell on her.
“’Cause it’s unnecessary, Red.”
“I’ve never let anyone call me that.”
“Until Low? Yeeeahhh, I get it, but you need to watch how you talk to him. He comes on friendly, but in truth, Elliot is as nice as a rattlesnake in a box.”
“Noted. I still want your number, though.”
Lifting a heavy gaze upward, their eyes met,t and she had issues with talking again. “No, you don’t. You only wanna pity me and make jokes.”
He chuckled. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I told you already. There is a pecking order; we both know how it goes. I am not a pureblood.”
“I give no fucks about no league or vampire etiquette or class. I’m not into none of that dated shit. I don’t adhere to things like pecking orders anymore. And I haven’t for a very, veeerrrry long time.”
Drifting to his full lips, the tips of his fangs made her shiver. This was lust, unbridled and unhinged.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” Max inhaled and tore his attention away from the Pureblood as Low handed her a cold glass.
“I wouldn’t say you were interrupting, Elliot. Where’s my drink?”
Low cackled, sitting on the armrest nearest to her. “Muh’fucka, you are more than capable. Fetch your own Hennessey, shit.”
Max shook her head and said, “I told you.”
“Told him what?” Low gripped the back of her neck. “You running your mouth behind my back?”
“Yeah, now get off me!” Slapping his hand off, she sipped the bitter alcohol once, then gulped. “Oh, this is my song.”
There was no way Max would sit down while Janet was on. Getting to her feet, she held out a hand. “Low, get your fat ass up and dance with me.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Are you telling me no?” Her eyes narrowed.
“Girl—”
She grabbed hold of his t-shirt and pulled him down to her level. Smiling, Max flicked his ear and hissed. “Be good, and I’ll let you taste it in the bathroom.”
“Fine, you wanna dance, let’s dance. Damn, baby. All you had to do was ask.”
She snickered and looked at Red. “Watch my purse.”
“You not giving me orders.”
“I just did. Unless you plan on letting someone steal my shit.”
He snarled, and with that, Max dragged her man to the middle of the living room.

The show put AB in a mood; their two step wasn’t so PG. Moving ass and hips, they were in sync. It was an erotic waltz AB appreciated. Max had soft curves Low handled with finesse.
Frothing with jealousy, AB growled, wanting them. It was a familiar sensation he remembered with fondness. For a time, bedding two or three at once was commonplace.
Prey excited him, up until getting what he wanted. This pair would get two or three nights tops before AB called it quits. At the moment, he wanted to touch something. To wedge himself between them and make music of their own.
Low took Max from behind while she did the impossible;twearked with jeans on. The tight denim barely stayed on her ass. Ohhhh, how he filled with glee knowing she was real. Every inch supple and untouched. Dimples and cellulite.
He grunted as the vision gave his dick a start. AB had to get the hell away from them before coppin’ a brick.
Rising, he yanked the female’s handbag and pushed people out of his way. In a foul state, booze and a blunt would do him well. He cleared the steps in a single bound and trekked back toward the foyer, but kept onward.
Ines had bleak taste in decor. Grays, blacks, and polished ash. On the way to where he slept on occasion, morbid, monotoned paintings of mutilated bodies winked at him. Grotesque shit. To be fair, Ab killed many. He occupied various jobs in his lifetime, and not all were above the line. Some required homicidal acts.
As a pureblood, he welcomed a carmine-soaked chaotic profession. Alas, the wonder and joy turned to static, as did everything else. Food, sex, money, and shit had long ago become white noise. Though he did love a lengthy shopping spree annnd okay, getting his dick sucked brought about massive doses of pleasure. Plus, yeahhhhhhh, his dogs made him happy. Okay, maybe AB wasn’t that broody, but life grew stagnant on occasion, god damn it.
Stopping at his bedroom door, something sparkled against the high gloss floor. “Ooooo.” He plucked the small button and gleamed. “I like this one.” The brushed metal had a shimmery quality he adored.
“I did it.”
AB stashed the button in his pocket, and Ines showed his face. When AB entered, he crossed the vacant womb of a well-dressed guest suite.
“You did what?” AB asked. Tone scalpel sharp, he tossed Max’s bag in an armchair.
“I got you a meeting with Paola.”
“Good.” He smiled and wheeled around, making sure not to touch the Afghan with his soles. “That’s great news, bro, it’s your fucking job after all. What she say?”
“You think she talked to me?”
“Where am I going?”
“She’ll be at your place on Saturday.”
Stupid bed whench was throwing her annual fit. “Sure, I’ll be there.”
Willing the glass wall open, he wished for a ripple, a whisper of cool air, but there was no breeze to be had. At least the crescent moon grinned from above. Ab sauntered onto the patio and longed for company. “Aye, go get my guests.”
“You’re really gonna bang the fat bitch?”
Facing Ines, with his turned-up nose and judgment, Ab sneered. “Why do you have to be so disgusting? Why does she have to be a bitch?”
“She’s fat too.” Ines grimaced.
The male had a preference, fine, cool, whatever, most people did. As stated once before, AB did not. If there was a hole, he’d fill it. What they looked like mattered naught.
In passing, he frowned. “When has a woman’s size ever mattered to me, Ines?”
“Yeah, you love pounding the fatties.”
Ab meandered down a hallway flanked by his-hers walk-ins. He peeked in his, then stepped into the washroom.
“Do you feed them when you fu—”
Snapping his fingers, AB killed Ine’s prattle. AB was done. “Shut your god damn mouth and do what I said. Now!”
Towels, tissue—whipping around, AB glared at Ines, who had yet to move.
“Okay, okay.” Palms raised, the bastard retreated and left him alone.
This space looked nothing like the rest of the house. Light gray instead of black, plush instead of flat. He preferred lighter hues and comfy over style. Although the twain met at his place of residence.
AB slipped back into the room and found himself at a tiny wet bar. Hennessey, Remy Martin, Courvoisier, Gautier, Pierre, d’Ussé, Frapin, Hine and Martell. There were over two hundred brands of cognac; he had a lot to choose from, but four at present. He went with Hine.
Just as drops of brown trickled down, the door flew open. “I know you better have my purse, I specifical—oh, thanks.” Max had a baaaaad habit of speaking before thinking. “Wooow, this is nice. What is that cherry blossom? This ain’t nothing like whatever funhouse shit he got going on out there. Dark and moody. I like it in here.”
“It smells and looks like Home and Garden vomit,” Low added. “This is a middle-aged suburban mom’s wet dream. I’m getting heavy Cape Cod vibes.”
“That’s what I was going for,” AB said, turning on the sound bar.
Zapp and Roger.
“You don’t know nothing about Slow and Easy, white boy.”
“You’d be surprised by what I know, Maxine Bernice Bissette.”
With derisive laughter, she ambled toward the revelatory. “Yeah, I’m sure you do, pop pop. You got on those leak barrier depends tonight?”
Low cackled from outside, as a thick cream curled in the night. Of course, he threw in his two cents. “Got some Fixodent in your pockets, granddaddy?”
“Nah, but I got a heavy dick you can suck.”
Max re-entered and ripped her shades off. “Well, god damn, you are feisty. You right, Low.”
“I told you, baby. One can’t be gentle with a muh’fucka like him.”
Their back and forth sparked curiosity. “I love how you talk me about when I’m not around. Please do go on.”
Max settled into the armchair, while Low filled out the chaise. Her eyes traced AB’s frame; he relished the attention.
In their imperfection, her eyes were unique and fiery.
“So Max…” After knocking back the rest of his liquor, AB set his empty glass on the bar and started. “You mind answering a question for me?”
“Depends.”
Giving Ms Bissette his full attention, he crossed his arms and asked, “Did you know your father is laundering money through your tattoo shop?”
Kindling lust evaporated. “Wha—I don’t—I don’t understand.” Her lids peeled as she diverted to Low. “No, no. He’d never do that to me.”
AB shrugged and sighed, venturing toward the chaise. He claimed the spot next to Low, who shared her disbelief.
“I’ve been digging for days now,” AB continued. “It’s not hard to figure out. Your father is a year away from jail time. He hasn’t handled whatever it is he does well.
“Shady property buying, the businesses that aren’t making enough money. I mean shit…” Dragging his gaze to Low, AB bit his bottom lip and wasn’t sure if they’d stay after this.
“There has to be another explanation.”
“Nope. A shit ton of money is coming in, and not enough going out.”
Max dropped her purse on the floor as the mood soured with her expression. Now he felt kinda bad. The uncomfortable sensation intensified when she choked.
Head falling into her hands, Max sobbed. “I can’t take anymorrrre. Oh…oh, my goddd.”
AB grimaced and tried to think of something worth a damn to say.
Think, think, stupid. ‘Haaay, there there’ no, fuck. ‘Let’s not be punk about—no!
While he ran through several responses, her wails intensified. She turned hysterical. Sobs spun out of control and almost resembled laughter.
Yeah, like giggling?
Max lifted her head and dropped the act. Max cackled like a lunatic. Confusion racked his brain until she stopped on a dime.
Her pristine arched brows knitted. “You thought you did something, huh?”
“Wait, what?”
“My Daddy is laundering money through my shop, because I let him.” AB recoiled. He would have never suspected such a thing. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
The female stood and closed the distance between them.
Her short ass loomed in front of him.
“All I wanted to do was fuck,” Max said. “Why you have to go and ruin it?” She shook her head and stepped outside. “Now that you figured us out, what you plan on doing with this information?”
The muzzle of a gun grazed his temple. “Are you serious?”
AB growled at Low, who held the steel steady. He definitely used it, more than once.
“Deadly,” Low said. “Ain’t nobody finna pull my shorty card, Red. And I like you, I do. It’s sad, and wasteful, ‘cause you fine as hell. But I got a full clip of halo bullets, and wouldn’t think twice about putting your pretty ass in a motha fuckin’ casket.”

Neon Red: Chapter 13

AB worked a lot as late and through the weekend. He stayed home last night to regroup and relax. Tonight was fully booked, with plans aplenty. Ones that called for black on black. Givenchy broken logo joggers, a tank, and Balenciaga speeds. Monotones made sure an assortment of gold pieces became the highlight of his outfit. Neck, ears, fingers, nose, and wrist. He was dripping in twenty-four carats and wasn’t shy about it either.
Sex was pretty close to wearing fine fabrics and jewelry. Acquiring luxury brands damn near made AB orgasm in any given boutique. The high he received from shopping was intoxicating, and it didn’t stop at Kiton. No. AB just loved buying shit. He was an impulse shopper. Tupperware or Dior. Brand made no difference. Especially during long trips to Five Below.
He needed an intervention for his addiction. Such wonderful things he found at TJM. God, the priceless doodads. A box made from recycled barn wood? Yes! He desired it. A mirrored owl figurine? Yeah? Big-eyed dogs embroidered onto a pillow? Fuck yesss!
Sucking down a lung full of a Moonrock blend, AB checked mirrors. Was he being ghosted? It was a date or anything, but common courtesy and all. He’d been parked under his place of work for the last thirty minutes. A text came through at around 4 pm, agreeing to an outing. AB hit back with a location.
Seeing as they were still strangers, he offered to meet at Brickell Condominiums. Low texted thirty minutes ago. How long did it take to…well, he had no idea where the man lived.
Holding a creamy cloud, AB clutched his phone, eager to send another text when a rumbling engine and bass-heavy music alerted the senses.
I’m Da Man? Yeah, E-40.
Releasing smoke, he noted a sedan six spots down as Low parked beside him. Before hopping out, AB grabbed his FOB, device, and blunt pouch. With everything in hand, he emerged from the great value ride.
“Well, God damn, Red!”
Low’s size was a surprise, to say the least, being a halfbreed and such. They were neck and neck, almost. Non-threatening, he considered AB and smirked.
“I shoulda wore my Give-inchy too. Tryna look cute, tuh. You can’t see me, though, on your best night.”
Low rounded to the passenger side and listed against the classic big bawdy.
AB couldn’t speak with a blunt between his lips. He observed smoke streaming from his nostrils. AB didn’t want to laugh in the guy’s face, but he was clearly delusional. Poor soul. It don’t get any better than Jaxon Aubrey. Was Low ugly, unseemly, or drab?
No.
Absolutely the fuck not. Even in a t-shirt and sweats. Gray.
Pulling the backwood, AB signaled to the chunky boy downstairs. “You plan on using that?”
Low reeled. “You checking my shit already? I usually like some conversation and—”
“The gun, dumb ass.”
“Aye, watch yourself. And only if I have to.” He shrugged, opening the door. “Can’t be too careful with headhunters running about. Let’s go, Red. That summer moon is shy.”
When Low slid in, AB stepped to the driver’s side and eased behind the wheel. “Whoooa shit.”
The woodgrain was smooth and crisp white interior butter soft to the touch. Smelling like flowers.
“Wait.”
“Boo!”
AB flinched like a pussy when the female sprang up. He gave Max and Low more than enough to amuse them.
“Oooo, the salty, sassy alpha be skittish.”
She was a delightful sight, but her glasses were an irritant. After a quick hit, AB smirked.
“Maybe it’s your face,” he said in good humor, ‘cause she wasn’t ugly either. Far from it, actually. Max had silver screen old Hollywood beauty on lock, but those tattoos launched her into the ethereal. AB loved ink on everyone. As he glanced at a snickering Low, Max hollered from behind.
“Don’t be messing with me, Irish Spring,” she hissed. “I am not in the mood. I’ll shove my taser right up your ass.”
AB stabbed the dash in search of good music and took her ‘threats’ with a grain of salt. She was five-two, maybe three.
“You hella annoying, to be honest.”
“I aim to please, Jaxon,” she chimed.
“You better believe her.” Low paused to light his own wood. “She done tased me a few times.”
While AB messed with Bluetooth shit, she yammered on. Cautionary tales or whatever. Max had a pleasant, silvery voice, so he tolerated her loquaciousness.
“There we go.” AB grinned.
Max screamed in celebration, and Low coughed, spewing smoke. “Muh’fucka! Is this Whitney Houston?!”
“I know that’s right!” She clapped. “Low only plays rap garbage all night. This is real driving music.” Max giggled on all in his ear. “You like Whitney, Big Red?”
“I love Whitney.” AB glanced at Low, putting the Chevy in reverse. “I dare you to speak ill of my late queen.”
With the blunt back in his mouth, he turned up I’m Your Baby Tonight and floated onto the street. The Monte Carlo SS was a magic carpet ride.
“Listen, I ain’t got no issue with Whitney, but damnnnnn.” Low toked, then spoke on release. “You a cold-blooded alpha, bruh. How and why are you cruising around bumpin’ this? And, you white.”
“I’m Irish.”
He cackled, but AB grimaced.
“Where can I…” Low tapped underneath the stereo and revealed an astray. “Thank you. And what does my complexion have to do with anything? All that shit is inconsequential. Music is universal; it’s for anyone who wants to listen. There ain’t no restrictions.”
“That’s true,” Max added as a foul, manufactured blueberry odor assaulted him.
“What is that?”
“My vape.”
AB smacked his lips. “It stinks.”
“I hate it too,” Low muttered.
The city was alive with those coming and going. It was 10:30 pm, and most were on their way home or off to get into some shit. They were the ass end.
“You live in Brickell, with all those other rich folks?”
“No, I work there.”
“Ooooh, right, right. Your accounting office?”
“We call it a counseling office,” AB corrected, but had zero intentions of talking about work. “I have to hand it to you, she rides great. Smooth as silk.”
Low chuckled and puffed for a minute while Max sang along to Mark Morrison. Music was AB’s first love as an adolescent. That’s why he liked everything; hell, Vivaldi might play next. Perhaps Stevie Nicks, Korn, Nat King Cole, Michael Bolton, Etta James, or The Beatles.
His playlist was on shuffle.
“Low built this car.”
“For real?” AB asked, fully invested in Low’s response.
The male’s wry smile spoke before he did. “Not built. I restored her a little. You know, put something fresh on the body, and got up in them guts…” His glittering storm gray eyes swung over right on time. “I fixed what was broken, but I’ma replace the block in about two years.”
AB nodded, ignoring the sexual undertones in his statement. Smashing for Coconut Grove, he hit a few lights, but kept things nice and easy.
“Aye, make a U-turn right quick,” Low suggested.
“What?”
“Just do it.”
Once able, AB doubled back and whipped the bitch.
“The hell going on.”
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
“I have no idea, but we being followed. Seriously, I’ve watched them tail us for the last ten minutes.”
Retrieving his blunt, AB laughed and made another U-turn.
“What you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Low bolted upright, looked at Max, then pegged him with a hard stare. “I don’t know you, and ain’t nobody finna put my shorty in harm’s way, fuck you mean.”
“They’re with me.”
“The tail?” he blurted.
“Yeah.”
“The hell you have them fa’?”
AB inhaled his Moonrock skittle mix and entered Coconut Grove.
No need to divulge sensitive information this early on. He wasn’t even sure if it’d go past tonight, but who knew at this point, right? His passengers were a desirable hodgepodge of gardenia, Bergamot, and Shea butter. The aroma was erotic and enticing. It’d been years since he had a menage. God willing, he’d have another soon.
Max appeared in his peripherals and stared. “How old are you? Where are we going and why are people following us?”
AB snorted and said, “You ask too many questions and haven’t answered mine.”
“You ain’t asked me nothing.”
“I will.”
“Okay, how old are you, whe—” She lurched forward as they came to an abrupt halt. “You ‘bouta go on my list, Irish cream.”
“I’m seven hundred and twenty-three, and getting older every night.”
Low hacked and leaned forward once again. “You the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. Holy shit. I thought you were like, three-fifty, four hunnit or something.” His eyes traveled from north to south. “I mean you well kept, though, Father Time. You are older than this country and the Declaration of Independence. You’re older than this whole state. The dirt we walk on, you older than—”
“I get it! Oh my god.” AB snagged his blunt, killed the engine, and tossed keys to Low.
“Oh fuck! You almost hit my dick, be coo’, bruh. I know you don’t need yours no more, ain’t no way it still works, but mine is fine.”
Max cackled like a hyena. He found the sound unappealing yet adorable.
“This shit will get old, fast.”
“Awwww.” She patted his shoulder, and he loved the contact but shrank away in irritation. “Poor alpha feeewings hurrt.” She giggled again. “Move, so I can get out.”
“Ask me, nicely,” AB growled.
“No, move.”
“I said, ask me nicely.”
Low jumped out of the car, groaned, and pushed his seat forward. “Let’s go, baby, I ain’t got time.”
“Ha!”
Max cocked a brow as her ‘friend’ offered a helping hand. Ab followed, intent on setting some motha’ fuckin’ boundaries.

Goooood evening, y’all. I hope you’ve had a phenomenal week! I’ve been editing mostly and adding to Patchwork. If you don’t know what that is, it’s my fantasy serial. It’s lighter than this and lower stakes. Anyway, this week we get a glimpse of The Troublesome Trio. I had A time writing their story, and you’ll continue to see why. I know this chapter was short, but you’ve got quite a bit coming in the next two weeks (maybe sooner). A little action, SMUT, and Maxi antics. Once again, I’d like to thank you for still being here. Stay amazing and hydrated, y’all. See you next week, bookies. Byyyye!

Neon Red: Chapter 12

Low was in his element. Standing over the six-range Viking, he tested his famous gravy. “Mhm. Can’t get no better than that.” Some spent money on cars, jewels, and watches. Nah, he loved plants and kitchen appliances. Subzero, Vikin,g, and Mielie. They were Boujee and pricey, but when you were a homebody, you needed reliable shit. And in this age of obsolescence, expensive goods tended to last longer… as planned.
On the menu for tonight was slow-cooked garlic pork roast, fried cabbage, truffle mashed potatoes, and homemade French bread. Not his loaf, but Max’s. The female baked her ass off but could not cook rice. Washing hands, he nodded at the boys who were in the living room, lounging like they had not a care in the world.
Low turned the warmer and timer off. “Ashton, can you set the table?” He heard a whistle and shuffling. “Teddie, kill the game boy. It’s time to eat.”
“Yup, I’m super hungry.”
“I know the feeling, bruh.”
Mitts on, he retrieved a loaded pan filled with sizzling meat from the oven and marched to the table. “Ohhhhhh, Low, that looks amazing.”
“It’s finna taste better too.”
“I believe it. I told Ron you make the best shrimp and grits in Florida. He said, ‘hell nah, my mama does.’ So, I said ‘bet’. You have to make some shrimp and grits now.”
The boy talked a mile a minute and took no breaks unless he had to breathe. “How you volunteer me like that?”
“Simple. I know yours is better.”
Ashton rushed around carrying utensils, cups, and condiments. He loved setting the table, but Low knew it was more so outta habit. Pops made damn certain his sons set the table for their entire lives. Low had done it ‘til moving out at a hunnit and twenty years old.
Sides joined the main dish, and seconds later, they were seated. Low ate breakfast or lunch with them, depending on how he felt. But supper was to be eaten at the table. No matter what, at some point during the day, he enjoyed a meal with his siblings.
“Hands.” Palms up and outstretched, he gripped the smaller ones. Bowing their heads, Low waited for Teddie. It was his turn.
“Lord, we thank you for the food you allowed us to have. And thank you for giving my brother the know-how to cook it, and in Jesus’ name, bless those who are without bread. In Jesus name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen.” Low paused talking to stack protein on his plate. “How’s gymnastics going, Teddie?”
His brother smiled and passed around the mashed potatoes. “I’m second in ranks.”
“That’s what’s up. You been going at it all month. See? Practice makes what?”
“Perfect,” Teddie sang.
Theodor was a happy teenager on the cusp of manhood. Sixteen, innocent, and never been in the streets or seen a gun. Their parents did well until the moment they left.
“I have a shot at the championship this year.”
After loading his plate, Low clapped palms with Teddie. “I know you gon’ make it. And if you keep going. You’ll get that scholarship, too.”
Teddie beamed, his brown eyes shining with pride. “I know I will. It’s about manifestation. Max told me—”
“Here we go.”
“What?” Teddie frowned with a mouth full. “She’s right. A positive mindset works. You stick with it and make things happen. When you realize how powerful your own thoughts are, the faster you can wipe out negative energy.”
Low laughed and shook his head while chomping on potatoes. Looking at Ashton, he ran a hand over his short, pre-dreads.
“And what about you, boy? How are you doing in the band?”
Ashton nodded, dropped his fork, and signed.
It’s going good, though, I’m still kinda bad. I think the violin is my instrument. I really mean it this time.
“Are you sure?” Low asked with a smirk. “You ain’t tried drums yet.”
Ashton shook his head and signed.
Nah, too noisy. You know I love classical strings. I just had to decide. Cello, violin, flute, clarinet, trumpet. I got the piano down, thanks to Max. But I’m sure it’s the violin for me. I like how it feels in my hands. It speaks to me.
This little boy was fourteen and growing too damn fast. Ashton was seven years old when they were abandoned. Now, he wore braces, stood five-foot-seven, and talked about girls. Pretty soon, he and Theodore would be grown men.
Time ain’t stop for no damn body.
Low smiled, flashing fangs. “Whatever you do, it’s gonna be great, Ash. Once you learn a skill, you excel. I’m proud of you.” Glancing at Teddie, he said. “Both of ya’ll. I just wish I could be there for competitions and recitals. I’m sorry about that.”
The middle brother shrugged. “You always say sorry for things you can’t control, Low. You didn’t ask to be a vampire who has a sun allergy. It’s the weirdest thing. Don’t you think, Ash?”
He nodded and signed. It makes no sense. And then, one day, I’ll be allergic too. But I’m more of a night person, anyway.
“Yeah, but you remember,” Teddie shoveled cabbage and snorted. “You remember when I put garlic in your room?”
“I do.” Low sipped his cold, sweet blood happily and smiled. “That was when I first told you, right? Yeah, yeah. Y’all wanted proof so bad. You put garlic under my pillow and about burned me to death.”
He side-eyed Ashton, ‘cause that sneaky boy got him fresh out the shower. Low walked into his room, and Ash ripped the curtains aside.
Ashton rolled his eyes and signed. I believed you afterwards.
“Yeah, I would hope—”
The doorbell interrupted their chatter. Standing, Low checked the time. 9:30 and barely vampire hours, but he had called for Mrs. Piper to watch the boys, since they ain’t know how to act. Hitting a u-turn, he jogged out of the kitchen and hustled for the door. “Max?”
She waved from beyond the glass.
“Hay, baby. I was just about to text you, too. I was finna hea—what’s wrong?”
Her feet dragged along with her face. Maxi was a positive ball of happy-go-luckiness. Sometimes, her never-ending jubilation got on his last damn nerves. But when Low closed the door, sadness clogged a dark silence as her forehead met his chest.
“What’s the matter, Max? Talk to me,” Low said, his demand terse. Linking arms around him, she mumbled. “What is it?”
He stepped into the bar area, entrance adjacent, and sat on a stool, pulling Max onto his lap. “Woman, you gotta speak up.”
Low hated it when she was sad and blue. It didn’t feel good on the inside. Cupping her cheek, he yanked off the frames and tossed them on the bar-top.
“I’m getting married,” she muttered, about ready to cry. Low heard those words, but the loud racket behind his ribs made it tough to make out.
“You what?”
“I’m getting marrieeeed.”
Hands dropped away as he recoiled. Who would have thought he’d care this much? Low remained willfully ignorant for years. He refused to scrutinize what had blossomed between them for his sanity, her mental health, and the job. They had an agreement, an arrangement that worked great, but…
“When did you meet somebody?” he asked, unable to look at her. Staring at rows of top-shelf liquor and hanging martini glasses was a better game plan. The sudden feeling of betrayal had him fucked up. It was unwanted and ridiculous. They were grown adults who set boundaries from the first time they…
“Low?”
“You said we would tell each—”
“Oh, my god. No, I didn’t meet anyone.”
He cut back to Max with questions. “I don’t understand.”
“My dad did this.”
He jacked to his feet and paced. “What the fu—what the fuck?!” Linking fingers atop his head, Low halted and gawked. “Are you playing with me right now?! Max, don’t play. Please don’t.”
“I’m not. This guy named Matthias came over, and basically, I have to…”
Some shit hurt Low’s feelings, other things turned his pillows red. Then some issues and dilemmas made a man wanna rip his own heart out. And to be trill, this was the second time Low felt the latter. As Max explained the whole ordeal, he wanted to vomit. What was finna happen? Was Raymond Lawry going to take her away? Would they move out of state? The bleak thought threatened every bite he swallowed.
“Is everything okay?” Teddie asked. His concern called Low’s muddled mind into the present.
“Uh, yeah.” He nodded. “It’s fine. Max, baby, you hungry?”
Shaking her head, she smiled. “Hay Teddie.”
“We have mashed potatoes.” He knew how much she loved the spud.
Ashton ran in next, slipping on socked feet, and slammed into her.
“Hi, kid,” she chimed as the boy pulled her into the kitchen. “Guess I’ll have a bite.”
Both of his brothers were taller than she, but it never stopped the woman from babying them.
Low was about to flip. Like, he needed to smoke, or he’d kill one of his children. Not the boys, but a plant. They were his kids. Well, not all. Some were closer to him than that.
“See.” Teddie showcased a tub crammed with slices of bread. “He even let us have some. Cause you know he’s stingy with it.”
“It’s mine, the eff you mean.” Low barked. Max gave him the nastiest scowl in return.
“No.” She snarled and said, “I will tear you up. Y’all can have as much as you want, and if you like, I can make another batch tonight.”
When they sat, Low cleared his throat. “Mhm, nah, I’m heading out. Which means you are too.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“You do.” He smirked.
“Where are we going?” Max asked, handling baked goods. She smeared butter on its fluffy white top.
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I ain’t the one driving.”

Good evening, y’all. I know it’s late, but it’s still Friday! This is a win! Also, I am writing this half asleep, but I did it. I really hope you have a terrific weekend, and per the norm, I want to thank you. If not for y’all, I wouldn’t keep doing this. Your time and interest mean everything. Have a wonderful Memorial weekend, loves! Byyyyeee.

Neon Red: Chapter 11

The following night, Tracy checked his reflection once more and tugged the pocket square. Pressed, extra starch. He swiped a hand over his taper fade and snapped cuffs. For many a night, he considered himself the best. Trudging through mud to get where he was required a strong mind and will. He’d been born into a scholarly family. Doctors and teachers. Of course, an education couldn’t hide one’s skin color. For countless years, he walked this wretched earth and experienced things his child would never understand.
If his father hadn’t stolen those bonds, there was no telling where they’d be right now. Though finding out his own son was dyslexic had been a blow. Tracy’s father thought him a lame, unintelligent, and disposable. At least he left his mother with money and means to provide. In his youth, Tracy was lost, working odd jobs, longing for an intellectual path. To do something worth a damn.
That’s when he met Bernice. She was by far the most gorgeous woman he had laid eyes upon. She was a learned gal from Nigeria. Smart, kind, and patient. She helped Tracy overcome his literacy issues; thus, their love story began.
“Beginning of the end.”
A knock called for his attention. Striding down the hall, connecting the vestibule and his bedroom, he noted Jaya’s presence.
“Are you sure you wanna do this?” she asked.
“I am only trying to do what’s best.”
“You honestly think this is best?”
He couldn’t stand it. Her disappointment and knitted brow. She wasn’t fit for an expression so sour. Jaya was divinity embodied and warmhearted, but had no right to question him.
“I do. It is a beneficial merger.”
Jaya’s laughter wasn’t that of joy. “A merger. What is happening to you, Tracy? You are fucking with her life.”
Averting her judgmental gaze, he marched to the wet bar and did his ultimate best at preparing an old-fashioned.
“She will be grateful.”
“This is not the 19th century. It is unacceptable.”
“To whom? There are plenty around the world who practice such things.”
“Yeah, and it’s wrong.”
Tracy sighed, dropped ice, and faced Jaya. Beauty remained despite her fury. Verily, she raised the girl, so her protective nature was predictable, but she wasn’t Maxine’s mother. He was reminded of that every night.
Swirling his drink, Tracy stared into the chilled, brown pool. “Max is my child, not yours.”
He matched Jaya’s vexation. Her glare glinted behind welling ruby tears. He strongarmed an aching desire to comfort her.
“I know what’s best for my child.”
She scowled and left in a hurry. There was an unmistakable pain in the center of his chest. An agony he’d come to live with. Stuck in a sort of purgatory he himself built from the ground up. Tracy still mourned his beloved and wanted to honor her, even in death.
But this was killing him. This silent, personal storm. The suffering never ceased. His hands trembled, ice rattling in the glass. “Stay the course.”
Tracy growled and launched vintage crystal across his room. It shattered on impact, taking his antique standing mirror with it. Shards dangled at odd angles. With pieces missing, his reflection fractured. The world did this to him. Life and death were both something to fear.
Tracy didn’t wish to die, but wasn’t sure if he wanted to live anymore, either. On a spin, he grabbed his dinner jacket and tweaked the pocket square. On his way to formal living, Tracy plastered on a smile.
“Ah, Matthias.” Tracy extended a palm, and they shook like proper gentlemen. “I do apologize for my tardiness.”
The male released and inclined his head. “It’s okay. Your gracious staff kept us busy with a phenomenal slice of hummingbird cake.”
“Oh yes.” He gestured to a younger male sitting on the couch. “My daughter made it. She knows her way around an oven.”
“Magnificent. We do love a cooking woman.” Matthias Lawry was a grand vampire of some three hundred years. A rich pureblood with an old maroon gaze, money, and connections. He stood tall and confident. His son, Raymond, on the other hand, was nonplussed. Matthias cleared his throat and yanked the boy’s arm. “Get up and shake the man’s hand.”
Raymond grinned, offered a greeting, and committed to it. Tracy had socks tighter than his grip. “Hello, Mr. Bissette.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Tracy added
“You too.”
Like pulling teeth, the boy wanted nothing of it, which was understandable. “Please, have a seat.” When his guests returned to the sofa, Tracy took a load off in an armchair. Crossing his legs, he started in. “So, Matthias, has Raymond been informed?”
“He has, and my boy is ready to meet Maxine whenever she is ready.”
“That’s wonderful. She should be along shortly. I’ve told her to take the night off. Max typically wakes up around ten or so.”
Matthias smiled kindly, while his son sat deflated. His body molded into the cushions as his shoulders drooped. He should be grateful. Because of this, they were all better off. Tracy only knew of one other vampire who sold heathens to the highest bidder, and he stared at them.
Matthias Lawry was an asset, and they’d make more money working together. If there was one thing Tracy loved more than his late wife… it was currency, and their topic of discussion. They spoke of stock markets, what to sell, and when. Who were the best investors and who offered the best rates overseas.
“Dad.”
“Oh, Maxine, I’m glad you’re awake.”
Ohhhh, how fancy. She could have spruced up a bit. Her hair looked as though it’d been windswept, there was shit in her eyes, and for the love of god… a Winnie the Pooh onesie. Maxine was an adult who wore footie pajamas. Perhaps he should have told her beforehand, but Tracy had much on his plate. And with her, this approach was best; she had nothing to contemplate.
His daughter would choose wrong every time.
“Maxine, this is Matthias, and his son, Raymond.”
“Okay.” She shrugged.
“Matthias and I have decided you two might make a lovely pair.”
The girl looked at Raymond, then slowly turned towards Tracy. “Dad, can I talk to you alone, please?”
“Absolutely.”
“Excuse us.”
“No problem.”
Tracy followed Maxine into his clean office and shut the door.
“Dad, I am not ready for a relationship. It’s kind of you and all, but I don’t need you to set me up.”
“It has been five years, Maxine. It’s time you find another husband.”
Her arms crossed and brows gathered. “I don’t want another husband. I don’t ever wanna be married again. I don’t ever, ever want—”
“You can’t hide away forever. What purpose will you serve if you are not someone’s wife?”
She winced as if he’d shot her. “What are you saying?! A female, or woman, is not born with wifely duties strapped to her back. We are more than dolls to look pretty, cook your food, and grow babies.”
“Watch your tone.”
“Or you’ll freeze my accounts, I know.”
Tracy held his tongue and sat in an old chair he’d bought in 1972. Things weren’t made the same anymore. Including women. A girl in Maxine’s position would have been over the moon some eighty years ago. His daughter was from that time, but she’d lost all sense and grabbed this modern age by the balls, as it were. She fit in with them, conforming to this generation and what they called freedom of expression.
“You know what we have at stake, don’t you?” He watched her peruse shelves full of books he forgot to read.
“I can’t forget.”
“You wanted in Maxine, I let you. So, I’ve got another job for you.”
Her multi-colored irises were magical in nature. One Red, the other quicksilver, they were striking and unique. He and his daughter emerged from the womb imperfect, but unprecedented. Tracy loved her eyes because they shaped her into someone special. Alas, the dual pigment haunted him as well.
When Maxine was born, he became filled with a renewed sense of purpose and an immeasurable amount of love. Sadly, in the same moment Maxine opened her eyes, Bernice took her last breath.

Max wouldn’t like whatever he had to say. She dropped into the armchair, waited for her father to speak, and picked lint off her onesie. Helluva night to wear this thing. She loved onsies. They made her feel safe and warm, like a security blanket. She carried a fluffy crochet blanket Jaya had made her for fifteen years. Tracy made her burn it. The day they started making onesies for adults, she got in on that and never looked back.
“Matthias is a runner, like me.” Tracy asserted.
“Nope, not gonna like it.”
“He’s wealthy.”
“So is his son.” Glancing at her dad said yeah, she was right. “What does this have to do with me?”
“You and Raymond are going to marry.”
Max’s stomach hit rock bottom and lurched as she slammed her eyes shut. A vile, slow burn accompanied the rapid beat of her heart. “I have my limits, Dad, I can—”
“You can move on with your life. Be who you once were.”
“I can’t do this.” Pinning a blurry gaze on her father, Max begged him. “Dad, I can’t. I don’t… this isn’t right. How is this fair?”
“Life isn’t fair, Maxine.”
Max linked arms tightly across her seizing chest once more and wanted to puke. “I know you hate me, but I don’t deserve this.”
“I don’t hate you,” he refuted.
“You do, and that’s fine, whatever. I’d hate me too for what I stole from you. But I don’t know how to apologize. You shouldn’t keep holding it over my head, this… this is too much. You are stepping over a line here.”
Tracy Bissette had a stick up his ass. He was high-strung and unflappable. Serious, judgmental of others, and nagging. He was strict and rode Max behind since she learned how to talk. But her father was never cruel, until now.
Max had to know why and how he’d even think to agree.
“After everything I’ve been through…” she whispered, just about ready to curl into a ball.
“No fault of mine,” Tracy spouted. “I warned you about that boy, Maxine. I told you to seek help. I have said many things you chose to ignore.”
He was right, but the past had nothing to do with the present. “How can you sit up here on your high horse and jus—”
“I have no choice,” her father ground out.
“Yes, you do.”
Tracy was ever composed with a highbrow and stiff back. She’d never seen him truly smile or express real emotion, negative or positive. Right now, however, he was undone. Fidgeting, twiddling with the blotter, and drifting off into space.
“Matthias is a runner who will not accept competition. This is more of an insurance policy; if we don’t abide, well… his wife is a US senator, and now, he knows what we do. Things can go from congenial to shit quickly. Do you understand?”
“Oh my god, he blackmailed you.”
“Indeed.”
She saw anger on her father’s face, real anger. Lip twisted into a snarl and fist tight around a personalized letter opener Jaya gifted him with last Christmas.
“I don’t understand.” She shook her head. “What does he have to gain from this?”
“My compliance, Maxine. A joining of our families would mean peace. It’s an old strategy to avoid war, but still relevant. If you don’t do this, that’s it. You will have to leave the country.”
A giant batch of ifs-ands-buts frothed within her brain matter. “I can’t leave… what about you?”
“It’d be prison or death.”
She couldn’t breathe, and the urge to vomit worsened. Leaving wasn’t an option. Jaya, Ndar, I, and Low would be left behind— “I can’t leave.”
Meeting her father’s speckled green eyes, he nodded. “I am aware of your love for Elliot, Max.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me. It’s unbecoming. I’ve known for some time. However…” Tracy’s demeanor shifted. Going from fury to an upturned nose and a judgmental tone. He released the letter opener and started typing on his computer.
“I will never approve of it, never. He is a fine male, but unfit for my daughter.”
“That’s not your call. You don’t even know him.”
“He’s a convict with three strikes. He served time at Alcatraz before his transition, Max. Under the watchful eye of the US government. Elliot is a gang affiliate on reserve. You’d be insane to think I’d invite him into our family with open arms.”
She’d been born in the wrong century.
Women were free to choose. Be who they wanted to be. When sexuality evolved into something they needn’t be ashamed of. When they had more to gain in life than a last name. When you existed for yourself. Max watched as women held powerful positions and made men fall to their knees. She watched as one became president of the United States. They still had a long way to go, but women were being freed from societal shackles.
They were free to be.
Except for Max.
If it wasn’t her father’s almost tyrannical hovering, it was someone else’s. She left one prison, barely escaping with her life, only to wind up in another. When the fuck was Max going to be her own person?
The answer was never.
“Maxine, we both know your choice in partners has led to ruin on several occasions. Do yourself a favor by marrying Raymond. He’s a great male with an education.”
“Fine,” Max snapped. What other option did she have? None. It was either this or leave her dad to die. And you know what? She was a punk. ‘Cause no matter what, she loved her father. Not to mention, he’d suffered enough thanks to her.
“When is all this supposed to happen?” she asked, unable to look at the man. Her head hung low, and her spine folded.
“I’m not sure. It’s up to Matthias. But you could spend this time getting to know each other.”
“Alright. Can I go now? I just need a day or two, please.”
“Sure, it’s a lot to handle, I know.”
She shot to her feet and sprinted out of the stuffy office. Her legs were mailable. Where rigid bone had been, there was putty. Max stepped into her room and collapsed onto a mountain of clothes. She heaved as a cold flush washed over her. Nothing came up, thank god, but her lungs worked overtime. Her chest pumped harder to no avail; no oxygen was to be had. The room spun, twirled, and twisted as the sound of her heart broke through everything else.
“Oh, Maxi.”
Hearing Jaya’s voice, she looked up as tears erupted from dry wells. “Momm…” she moaned, and reached for her. Maybe she crossed a line, or whatever, but Max was so god damn broken. Needing safety and someone who understood, she wanted Jaya. The woman didn’t waste a second. She joined her on the floor and wrapped Max in a nurturing embrace.
In her arms, she wanted to sleep away the bad dream, or nightmare. Max had no will to beat away a rising sadness, and Jaya gave her time. She held Max tight and rocked her as any mother would. The slow, steady motion and warmth helped to calm her down, eventually.
“I’m so sorry, Max, I tried talkin—”
“It’s not his fault.”
Lying on her lap, Max inhaled the familiar scent of fresh air and lemon. For almost a hundred years, Jaya took care of her. Tended to every diaper and bottle. She’d made Max dresses, and learned the proper way to care for 4a hair. She was there for every milestone, scrape, and complaint. Jaya had a say in Max’s life. She had every right to make her voice heard, but Tracy would never… he was stuck in the past, and unable to see this angel for who she was…
Max’s mother.
“He told me Matthias blackmailed him.”
Jaya gasped, causing Max to open sticky, heavy lids. Turning onto her back, she studied the ceiling. “It’s either this, or he’d snitch.”
“Oh, my god.” Leaning in, Jaya kissed her forehead. “I don’t even know what to say. You are in this mess because of your dad. To be honest, Maxi, I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Don’t leave him, please. I wanted to be nosey. I wanted to do something dangerous. It’s his fault for allowing me this far, but it’s mine for ever asking.”
Her decisions never led to anywhere good. Time and time again. Grown was a relative term. Max was incapable of not fucking up, and despite being upset and crying out, she blamed no one but herself.
“I am terrified of being married again. Of being owned and rendered property. I don’t wanna be duped into hell…”
“Look at me, Max.” When she refused, Jaya forced their eye contact. “Not every man you meet is Kyle. Don’t make the mistake of putting his face on them.”
“I already have.”
Jaya shook her head and pulled Max in. Flush against her ample bosom, she cradled her like a child. “Oh, sweetheart…” she sighed. “All I ever want is for you to be happy, Maxi. And I won’t leave this family until you are.”
“You are my family, Jaya.”
“I am, and I’ll always be here for you, but your father…”
“He loves you.” Max croaked the words, and she almost started crying again, but for Jaya. It was tough to witness and took years to understand. Their stolen glances and coy smiles. The way her father cared for Jaya while keeping his distance was tragic.
Max felt so bad for her. Being in love with Tracy Bissette had only led to dinner for one. Her father’s heart was encased in glass and steel.
“I know,” Jaya murmured. “But I can’t live like this forever. Torturing myself has run its course, love.”
Max wiggled free of her warm hold and grabbed Jaya’s hands. “Every kid wants to see their parents together. I always thought it would happen. I’m so sorry.”
Jaya was an Afro-Portuguese beauty queen, of some two hundred years old. Tall and thick, she got attention from every guy on the street. Poor thing had soccer mom style and loved her Velcro sandals, but god, she was ethereal. Tracy was a stupid, stupid man.
“As my matron of honor, you’re gonna have your hands full.”
Jaya giggled with bubbling tears in her eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah, you are my Mom after all… if that’s okay with you.”
She nodded. “You’ve always been my daughter, honey. Now, we gotta do something about this outfit. That boy wants to say hello.”
Max put on a half-cocked smile and shrugged. “Maybe I’ll dye it purple and turquoise. I wanna be hideous as possible,”
Jaya laughed, and Max joined her with a hysterical cackle. Life wasn’t great, but lemons and lemonade.

Hi y’all, I hope everyone had a good Monday! Day job is kicking my ass, but I am still here. Still pushing these chapters out for y’all. And what a chapter it is. So, by now, I know you hate Tracy. I get it. He’s not my favorite person either. He’s one of those parents who are hell on earth but will also do the most for their child. Tracy is that parent. Does this excuse his behavior??? Noooo. Poor soul believes he knows best. Sad. Anyway, I felt so bad for Maxi. I wanted to slump Matthias then and there. No lie. I remember cussing his ass out while writing this scene. Whew, chile. Anyway, it’s about 11pm and I ammmmmmm sleepy. I’m gonna turn in now. As always, thank you for reading. You are a good human who makes a difference in my day-to-day.
I hope y’all have a good week and see you sooooon. Bye, loves.