After 15 minutes of driving, Azer finally arrived at Xylo. He saw his friend Harper waiting in the parking lot. Before going out, he pressed the horn of his car, and Harper jumped in shock as a result. Harper saluted his middle finger to Azer as his reply and mouthed, 'It's my witch'. Azer chuckled and decided to get out of his car.
Harper continued talking with his mother, or, as Harper said, witch, for 15 minutes. Azer just finds it hilarious when Harper calls his mother and Azer's stepmother witches. Because who in the world wouldn't mistake them for a witch if they behave like a witch?
"Wow! You took out your baby for a ride" Harper uttered when he saw Azer's black Chevrolet Corvette Z06 that he can only see once in a blue moon.
"Well, it's my not-so-special day," Azer shrugged. "Are we just going to talk? Or make our night unforgettable?"
Harper laughed at Azer's last sentence. "You really enjoy provoking your witch, huh?"
***
The two entered the nightclub and were welcomed by the loud noise, dancing people left and right, and the smell of alcohol. Just a typical nightclub, but to the highest level.
When Azer entered the club, he recognised some of their business rivals who seemed to be making connections, and he also saw the relatives of his former targets.
His family runs an organization where they are paid to do all the dirty work for their clients. However, no one knows that their family was the one behind that organization because all their transactions go through the middleman, and they use code names when they're in operation. As for their client's identity, only the middle man and the higher-ups have knowledge about them.
"They're all doing good," he whispered with a sneer displayed on his face.
Harper thought Azer was talking to him. "What?" But Azer just ignored him and continued their way into the VIP lounge.
Azer hates crowded places; that's why his ass is glued to the couch, and Harper was busy dancing and drinking with others, as if he didn't get himself a companion. "What did I expect?" He shrugged in disappointment.
Whenever they're clubbing, he is always left alone, drinking by himself, because he rejects every invitation he gets when someone invites him for a drink.
Therefore, Azer just drinks like a maniac on his table, as if he's going to get drunk, but no. His alcohol tolerance is way too high for him to get drunk. He's already on his 19th shot of Patrón Tequila, but he's still on his feet and vibing with the music. On his 20th shot, someone stopped him from drinking. Azer looked at his left side with a confused look on his face and saw a familiar yet unfamiliar man with thick eyebrows. 'Angry bird, he chuckled at his own thoughts.
"Are you trying to poison yourself!?" The guy looking angry said in a serious voice. Azer shot up his brow and rolled his eyes, then tried to snatch his glass from the other guy, but he failed.
"What!?" Azer exclaimed.
"You're drunk," the guy said in the same voice earlier.
"Drunk? Me?" Azer replied while confusedly pointing at himself.
"Yes, you can't even recognise who you just met a while ago," the guy said while examining Azer's face as if he's checking something.
"Hmm—Oh!!" Azer reacted when he finally recognised the guy who's keep on bothering him. "You're the tall man at Dixon's garden" He then points his index finger at the guy while swaying as if he's really drunk.
Azer, the guy who keeps on denying that he's not drunk and has a high tolerance, little did he know that his face was already as red as the apple, and he kept on swaying like a drunk man.
"Zack! It's your shot!" The guy from the other table called the guy who's with Azer right now.