After being interrupted in the weirdest way possible, AB spent the next few hours resorting and stacking. Without added speed, it gave him something to do. After which, he went through everything on Tracy’s slooooooow as hell 2006 Gateway PC. XP, not even Vista. It was simpler without OneDrive, Dropbox, or Drive. Quicker too.
Anndddd ohhhhh, boy, the info one gathered. Maxine Bernice Bissette did, in fact, own Ink in Hell. Daddy supplied funds, however, as he did with everything else. The Wrangler out front, a shared phone bill, and Maxine’s monthly allowance. She had nothing of her own.
AB dug in his pocket and pulled out a cherry Jolly Rancher. He unwrapped the hard candy and tossed it back.
There was no reason to be a hundred years old and not have something going for yourself if you had means. At first glance, this woman had every opportunity to be independent. Why wasn’t she self-reliant?
A woman who couldn’t take care of herself was unattractive. Personally, AB hated those who didn’t have a pot to piss in or two pennies. Much more, he couldn’t stand the ones who’d depend on him every waking moment. Being broke was not cute, baby. Sure, okay, she owned-ran the shop.
But how much did it earn? Not enough. Not in Miami, and not for a spoiled female who lived comfortably with daddy her whole life. “A damn shame.”
Sucking on his brand of crack cocaine, AB clocked the time. 2am. Roughly five hours of work. “Not bad at all.”
Accounting was something AB liked quite a bit. He loved numbers and boring, monotonous work. Hell, why not? Living was boring, so why not find a career just as tedious? With this job, AB enjoyed the freedom. Having no boss and long hours, if he wanted them. It was more of a hobby than a profession at this point. AB dragged ass going through the paperwork and shit because he enjoyed it.
Knocking around the candy in his mouth, he shot to his feet and tidied himself. Cuff links, vest, and lastly, his suit jacket. He willed the light off and promised to return. There were two tubs left and however many boxes.
On his way out, he closed the door and hoped Tracy was near. AB had a question or two, nothing big. Just a few discrepancies here and there. Passing Maxine’s room, he sniffed and growled.
She smelled amazing. Fresh gardenias and fucking Shalamar. Classic and clean. Then again, she was a poor commoner, a female who’d demand a band and diamonds just for breathing. He shuddered and stalked into the formal living, whereupon he sat on the sofa.
Perusing Tracy’s home was boorish. Someone would come along, with lights blaring and the precious aroma of grilled meat piquing his interest. Maybe he had some ramen at home, or Ricearoni. Biting down on hardened corn syrup, he watched as two stooges came laughing through the front door.
What was up with her and those glasses? Everywhere? God damn it, she had a lazy eye. For sure, something like that. Had to be, maybe a visual impairment of some sort. A subtle limp too, that wa—her thighs were throwing him off, but her not boyfriend stared.
“Why you just sitting there?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for Tracy.”
“My dad is out back,” she laughed, “oh my god…” Biting her bottom lip, she shrugged.
“Ya’ll are really high,” AB noted.
“Nah, I’m coo’. Shorty trippin’ though.” Low lied, his brilliant stormy gray stare shone through slits. “I ain’t even got my half, muh’fucka’.”
“Your what?”
Low recoiled and made a dismissive noise. “Nothing, college boy. You don’t know nothing ’bout this shit. Aye, for real, your hair is fucking me up. It’s like a red light, hella abrasive and bright.”
AB snapped his cuffs and thought to count from one to ten. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allow himself to lash out in this man’s home.
“That cookie was too big, Low… Dammmmn.”
“You lyin’, they made it with that whack ass Miami Heat.” Low chuckled and threw an arm over Maxine’s shoulder. “Shit was booboo.”
“Miami heat? The basketball team?” AB asked. They exploded in laughter once again.
“The basket—man, hell nah,” Low bellowed. “Mind the business that pays.”
AB cracked his neck and sneered at a male way in over his head. A twenty-thousand-dollar suit and kind eyes fooled a lot of people. But Low knew what kinda man he was dealing with; he didn’t seem so dumb.
“You’ll get real tired of fuckin’ with me. I promise you that.”
Maxine rolled her neck. “Ooooo.” She snorted. “Anyway, where the steak at?”
“Ah, Jaxon.” Tracy arrived, saving the day, but Low made an odd choking noise. “You’ve finished?”
AB smiled and stood. “Yes, for tonight, of course. I’ll be back Monday bright and early at nine thirty.”
“Splendid. Say, are you hungry?”
He nearly refused but Jaya wouldn’t have it. “Come on, Jaxon, you can’t turn down the T-Bone. Low is a master on the grill.”
“I am. When it come to the meat, I tear—” Maxine elbowed him.
“I’d love to, but I—”
“Love it so much, then eat it,” Maxine said.
“Let’s not do this again,” Tracy said, eying her.
“You know what,” Ab interjected, checking the Audemars. “I have some time.”
The male clapped once in celebration. “Perfect, it’s such a lovely night. Shall we?”
Everyone sauntered outside and AB was dead last. ‘Cause weeelll, ass was ass, and it wasn’t slim pickings up in this bitch.
“What a fine entertainment set up you have here, Tracy.” Sitting at a long patio table tucked under a cedar pergola, AB was actually impressed. He noted bottles of wine, bread, and various sides. Potent spices, mesquite, and peppers scented the humid night air.
They had ample lighting and smooth jazz; it was a nice touch. Everything dinner guests needed, with a built-in TV, full-sized grilling area, and room for twelve.
“Thank you so much.” Tracy grinned, admiring his well-tended backyard. “Interior design is a hobby of mine.”
AB placed his bag in the chair next to him and said, “If that’s the case, then I think you should start taking clients and build a portfolio.”
“Oh no.” He waved a hand. “Pipe dreams earn no living.”
“Pipe dreams can and will earn a living if you’re passionate enough,” AB replied, removing his jacket for the second time.
Maxine nodded. “Word.” She sat opposite him and giggled her ass off. “That’s right, Dad. Passion breeds success.”
“I don’t think that’s it.” Low added, but Maxine rolled her eyes.
“Shut up!”
“Use your inside voice, Maxine. For God’s sake. We have company. Mind yourself, girl.”
Jesus, Tracy was a nightmare. No wonder she used her body as a canvas. Rebellion appeared in many forms, and he bet money her pops hated tattoos.
“Sorry, Father,” she amended, adding bass to her voice.
“Meat coming right up!” Low shouted from behind Max. He glanced at AB. “Hope it ain’t too sweet.”
“You’ve never made it sweet, Elliot.”
Jaya was minding her own quiet business. On the phone and smiling about something.
“How long have you worked for Tracy, Jaya?” AB asked, stirring a bit of conversation. “If you don’t mind.”
She looked at Tracy and didn’t speak until he nodded. “Since nineteen-twenty-one.”
“That is a long time.” So Max had been waited on hand and foot since birth. A nanny. Jaya was Max’s nursemaid, what the fuck. He kept a bout of hysterical laughter to himself.
“It is, but I think of them as my family.” She shrugged and beamed. “They are my family.”
“Awwwwww. I love you, Jaya.”
“I love you too, Maxi.”
“Dear god.” Tracy’s disgust shone on his tight features. “What is that smell?”
Jaya’s attention cut to Max.
“Yes.” AB grimaced. “What is it, a skunk?”
“Nah, it ain’t that,” Low murmured, handling the steak platter. They smelled hella good, too. “It ain’t that stank.”
Max and Jaya snorted, but AB missed the joke. “Well, it’s strong whatever it is.”
The man smirked, showcasing a mouth full of golds. Even his fangs gleamed. “I’ve come in contact with more pungent aromas. This one is subtle, but it almost stinks.”
“Elliot, what are you going on about, man?” Tracy looked up at him while a slab was dropped on his plate.
“The smell, Tracy.”
“Oh yes, I may have to call pest control.”
Max giggled and went for the bread. “What is this? Sourdough, yeessss. I love bread. Mostly cause you can put butter on it.”
A 24-ounce T-bone was dropped on AB’s plate; juice splattered. He gaped, staring at his vest. A six-thousand-dollar Taupe Kiton vest, which he had waited two weeks to have tailored, was now stained.
This motha fucka had a death wish.
“I’m so sorry,” Low intoned. “I didn’t know it was finna hit like that.”
“Elliot, that was quite rude.”
AB chuckled, unwrapped his utensils, and snapped the dinner napkin. “It’s A-okay.” Glaring at the male, AB smiled. “Accidents happen.”
Low sniffed and moved on.
“Are you sure?” Jaya asked. “I can get some club soda.”
“Oh Jaya, I fear that’s Vicuña.” The pity on Tracy’s face spoke of a man who understood AB’s pain. “Club soda would compromise the material. I hope it comes out in the dry cleaning.”
“I’m sure it will,” AB said in a delighted tone to shield broiling anger. “What do we—”
“You don’t want no sides?” Low nitpicked as he sat next to his not girlfriend. Who mind you, was an inch away from turning her steak into a pillow.
“No, I’ll take bread, that’s enough for me. Tracy, are you not hungry?”
“He’s vegan.”
AB winced at the unexpected, curve-ball response. What terrible vampire etiquette. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” Tracy said. “The environment is being attacked. And we will be here long after the human waste reaches their expiry date. If we don’t do something, we will be left with nothing.”
“What are we gonna do when they die?” Max asked, as it seemed she’d come to.
“That is too morbid a subject, Maxine.” Her father’s words were terse as he cut into a… tofu, cauliflower, bean… steak, thing. What the fuck did vegans eat? “Such discourse is not fit for a gathering of this nature. So, Jaxon, are you from Miami? Well, you know.”
“Uh, do you mind?” He pointed at a tempting bottle of Cabernet.
“Oh no, of course.”
AB gripped the neck, poured a decent drop, and loved how it’d been aired beforehand. Tracy was a man of class and culture.
“No. No, I am not from Florida. I moved here about eight years ago. I was born in Ireland, moved to London, and then to the States. I’ve been here siiiiince… seventeen-ninety-five.”
“Before its inception?”
“Yeah, my mother and I hopped a Spanish vessel and wound up in Cali. But she lives in London now.”
“Californiaaaaa?” Max sat amazed, and it offered AB more insight. Bet his left nut she’d never been out of state.
“Yes, it was a long time ago.” Slicing into a superb slab of beef, he changed topics quick as hell. “Tracy, you’ve been a busy bee.”
“Indeed, I’ve acquired a lot over my lifetime.”
With an immaculate sliver of beef on the fork, he shoved it between his lips, annnnnnd, heaven sent. Damn it, Low made a mean steak. Succulent, with a glorious char and rare. Rosemary, garlic, onion, cayenne, mesquite, applewood, not charcoal, and sweet cream butter.
“Although you ruined my vest, I must hand it to you. This is a phenomenal steak. It’s top tier.”
Low smiled lazily and lifted his glass. “I’m something like a chef.”
“He is,” Tracy agreed. “Maxine!”
Her head popped up. “Huh? I don’t like Neapolitan ice cream.”
AB chuckled at her… what did the kids call it? State of inebriation. Low thought it was funny, too, but he wasn’t doing any better.
“Are you tired?” Tracy prodded.
“Yeah, bruh.”
“Don’t bruuuuh me, young lady.”
She only laughed. “Steak! Yesss.”
“As I was saying, Tracy, you’ve dabbled in a fair share of real estate.”
He nodded but shrugged it off. “I have. I flip houses.”
Tracy was a liar.
“Ohhh, that explains it. Makes sense.” It did not. And AB had every intention of digging deeper, ‘til he got to the nasty, bitter core. Then he’d make Mr. Bissette an offer he’d dare not refuse. For now, AB would accept the fallacy and enjoy his fabulous meal.
In the end, he had two cuts while they sat outside and conversed. The weather, TV shows, and stupid shit people talked about. AB made certain not to speak on personal matters. He didn’t know them, and putting your business in the street had the capacity to bite you in the ass. So, he kept it nice and easy, even through the hummingbird cake and a bubbly dessert wine.
But as with all things, their fun came to an end. AB had had enough small talk for one night. “Wow, you all sure know how to party.”
“This wasn’t no party…” Max giggled and had a good five minutes left in her. The nodding worsened by the minute. “Oh, you’re an accountant. Meehhhh, boring personality, bruh.”
Tracy clapped his hands. “That’s enough from you, uh… Elliot, will you escort my daughter to her room? She is out of sorts.”
“My pleasure.”
AB bit down on a raunchy comment resting on his tongue.
“I really love your hair,” Max said, allowing Low to manhandle her.
“Thank you.”
“It’s like, blazing.”
“Elliot.”
“Yup.”
He hefted Max bride style and sprinted away.
“I do apologize for my—”
“Don’t do that, Tracy,” Jaya snipped. “I swear you want Max to hate you.”
This was a deep convo not suited for guests. Tracy’s head fell as he sighed. “I have enjoyed your company, Jaxon.”
“You as well.”
On his feet, AB grabbed both the Bottega and his jacket. “I am stuffed, and Jaya, the cake was divine.”
She blushed. “Thank you, but I didn’t make that. Max did, she’s a baker.”
His brows arched. “Oh, okay.” The woman had a way with flour and sugar. That confection was moist as fuck. “Please do tell her I loved it.”
“I will.”
AB left the pair on their own and showed himself out. Halfway to his car, he stopped to admire the Monte Carlo. A sweet, sexy thing she was. He liked how the engine purred, too.
Classy.
“You wanna test drive?” Low emerged from the shadows, like AB couldn’t see or sense another vampire’s presence. The tip of a blunt glowed briefly as he advanced. “I’ll let you ride it. Ride in it, I mean.”
“You’re terrible at come-ons.” AB sniffed and shrugged. “Who uses Swishers anymore?”
“I do, damn. I was outta woods. Stay out Black folks business. You look like the dispensary type. Legal trash. What you smoke? Bongs and vaporizers? Typical white boy shit.”
AB snarled. “You talk a lot.”
“I know. It’s part of my charm, bruh.”
“Your charm?” He scoffed and flicked a hand. “I’m this way. Have a good night.”
“Let me know if you want that test drive.” AB opened his car door while Low tact on bullshit. “Prolly can’t handle it, though.”
He stopped short of getting in and faced the verbose male.
“I’d advise you to ease up while you’re ahead.” AB zoned in on his ass and sneered. “This ain’t what you want, trust me.”
Low laughed, expelling a pillow of smoke and said, “Ain’t? Look at you, so cute. I ain’t trippin’, Red. You too tight in the ass for me anyway. I like my men pensive. But believe you me, I done made more than one alpha turn coy.” Low discarded the blunt and added, “I’ll be sure to tell Max you an accountant annnd pussy.”
Unbelievable. If the male hadn’t vanished, Jaxon would have yolked his ass up. Try to kill him, probably. “Ohhhhhh, my god. I need a drink.”

. I hope yall are ready for quite the ride going forward. READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS AND LEARN ‘EM. I’m not joking. Please take care if dark romance isn’t your thing; feel free to skip certain chapters. These don’t happen in the same chapter or the next, but they are coming, and quickly. Also, I don’t know why I said mild gore because nah, there is quite a bit. For me, it’s mild, but for others, it might be too much. As always, thank you so much for reading, I hope you have a wonderful week.