We were walking out of the hospital, engaged in light chatter as we headed for the parking lot. There were six of us and we were on our way to a bar after our shift. All of them were already friends and started out together at the hospital last year. The group consisted of one couple, Bradley and Shay. They've been together since medical school and just got engaged. Scott, Mitchell, and Laura, met here at the hospital.
We separated once we got to the parking lot and headed to Mikey's, a bar that they claimed to be an unofficial landmark in Newark because of its famous beer. I've tasted it and I couldn't agree more. It was probably the only beer here in America that didn't taste like piss water.
When we got to the bar, it was already pouring out with patrons. I knew we probably looked ridiculous in our blue scrubs and exhausted faces but Scott and Bradley seemed to be intent on staying even though the rest of us suggested going somewhere else.
"Hang on. I think I see a vacant booth," Scott said, craning his neck as he looked around.
I felt someone shove me to the side to make way for himself and I rolled my eyes, too tired to even bother reacting. I heard Laura laugh lightly beside me and I glanced at her just as someone shoved her.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
I pulled her out of the way, putting a hand on her back and blocking her from any other rude drunks at this bar.
"Thank you," she said as she shuffled closer to me.
"I'm actually using you as my shield," I joked and she giggled lightly.
"I'll protect you," she feigned seriousness and we shared a laugh.
Scott came back empty handed after checking out the booth, claiming it was reserved. He called for one of the bartenders manning the fort and shouted over the loud, and awful, music the band onstage was playing.
"Hey! There's a reserved booth at the corner! You think we can sit there for a while till we find a table?"
The bartender glanced at the booth Scott was pointing at before holding up a finger as he turned towards the girl who was serving beers to the patrons at the bar.
"Yo, Red!" he called.
The girl wearing a cap over her head and a black hoodie looked over her shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"These guys wanted to sit in your booth!" He jutted his thumb at us. "You cool with that?"
Her attention settled on our group. She lifted her cap for a fraction to get a better look at us and I drew back when familiar silver eyes met mine.
What on Earth?
Our eyes locked for a moment, and then she glared at me before nodding.
"Go ahead!" she shouted over the music.
Scott cheered at that while I remained staring at Angel Lastor of all people as she turned back to her costumers.
What the hell is she doing?
As if knowing I was looking, she glanced at me, sending me another glare and I glared back at her. Laura tugged at my shirt and I looked over to her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, obviously seeing the scowl on my face and I only noticed I was gripping the back of her jacket just then.
I shook it off and placed my hand flat on her back.
"Of course. Let's go."
I followed the group towards the booth which had a large sign on the wall beside it broadly stating, 'RESERVED. NO SITTING'. It seemed to have been there for years already, as if it was perpetually reserved. For her.
Is this a joke?
Scott asked what we wanted to drink as we settled in the booth and all of us said beer. And of course, he had to drag me back to the bar to help him with it. The bartender took out six bottles of their famous beer and placed them in a bucket filled with ice. When I offered to pay, he shook his head.
"Nah, man. Keep it. On the house."
"What?" I asked in confusion.
"Y'all friends with Red, right?" he said, nodding his head towards Angel as she stood a few feet away from us while mixing a drink, looking like she did it for a living.
"No. We're not," I immediately said.
Scott elbowed me, giving me a look that probably said, 'just go with it'.
The bartender raised his brows. "You sure? Cuz Red doesn't let people sit in her booth unless they're her friends."
"I don't know who the hell Red is," I seethed, slapping the wad of bills on the counter.
"He's with me, babe," Angel suddenly said, not even bothering to look at us and just worked her way through taking orders like a well-oiled machine.
"No, I'm not," I fired back.
"Just take the goddamn beer, Frederick," she spat, slamming a beer bottle on the counter for a costumer.
The bartender shifted his eyes between us, looking at us in wry amusement. "Okay…"
I was pissed. One, because she was here of all places. Two, because the last time I checked, she had no interest in having anything to do with me. Other than fucking. And three, I was acting like a little bitch.
"What the hell are you doing here anyway?" I bit out in annoyance. She ignored me. I wasn't having it. "Angel!"
She stilled, her hold on the glass she was holding tightening. "I work here. Now get your damn beers and fuck off," she bit out, finally sparing me a glance with a look in her eyes that meant she wanted nothing more than for me to fuck off.
"I'm not even going to get into this," I said more to myself because I was tired of getting mixed into her mess.
I grabbed the bucket and strode back to the booth with Scott following behind me. I slammed the bucket on the table with more force than I intended and slid beside Laura, taking a large swig from my bottle and nearly chugging half of it while I glared at the bar, following Angel with my gaze while she moved around the bar with ease.
"What was that all about?" Scott asked as he sat across from me.
Angel lifted her head as she mixed a cocktail and her eyes zeroed in on our booth. She held my gaze for a moment before looking away. I did the same.
"Nothing," I said.
Scott shrugged, looking back at the bar. "You know her or something?"
"Some girl I hooked up with and never called."
He choked. "And she bought us beers? Man, I should give her a go too. You have her number?"
He was probably just joking but it ticked me off.
I scowled. "Hell no."
Not like I even had her number.
He raised his palms, leaning back. "Chill. She seemed like a bitch anyways."
"She is," I said before taking another large swig of my beer, deliberately emptying it.
There was a waitress clearing out the booth next to us and I waved her over. I had no desire going back to the bar and I didn't care if that made me a little bitch. I was tired and starving from my shift and I didn't have the energy to deal with anything related to Angel right now.
"Can we have some burgers?" I asked.
"Sure thing. How many?" the girl said as she scribbled on her notepad.
I turned to the others. Bradley, Shay, and Scott raised a finger.
"Four burgers and six beers."
"A bucket of your chicken wings too. Half spicy," Mitchell added.
"Laura?" I queried.
"I'm good."
"Okay. Comin' right up," the waitress said before walking away.
The conversation flowed easily and we shared stories about our grueling years in medical school and how much they practically crawled on the ground for their positions at the admittedly elite Lastor Medical Center. Mitchell said he applied for probably ten different LMC's and threw a party when he got accepted to this branch.
"How about you, Rick? What's your story?" Bradley asked.
For a moment, I pondered if I should tell them how I got a head start on my career. Which was easy, all I had to do was attend Angel's birthday party and score a conversation with the great Anthony Lastor himself. Next thing I knew, I had his calling card and a job in my hands. I only managed not to fist pump while jumping when that monumental event in my life happened.
"Same thing, really," I said, deciding against it.
If I even so much as mentioned that horrid L word, they'd go on badgering me about it. I probably wouldn't be taken seriously if they knew I had my position served on a silver platter by the boss of all our bosses himself. It wouldn't help either if they knew I was friends with Golden Boy too and slept with his sister behind his back.
Christ. Why did I have to get myself mixed up into their family?
Our orders came and I offered to pay again. But like last time, the girl dismissed me.
"No, you don't have to pay. Red said so," she insisted when I practically shoved the money in her hands.
I had enough of it.
"Can you tell Red that we don't need her to pay for us?"
"Yeah. She doesn't pay either," she said, sniggering. "Pretty pointless to pay since she owns the place."
"Wait, she owns the bar?" I asked, utterly bewildered. "This bar?"
She nodded while taking our empty bottles. "Bought it a few years ago. The place was getting closed cuz we couldn't pay the bills and stuff," she said. "Red just ripped a page from her cheque book and said she'll buy the bar as long as she gets her own booth and free drinks. So... drink as many beers as you want. Red's friends are a friend of ours too." She grinned. "That all you need, Mister?" she asked, chuckling when I stared dumbly at her but I managed to nod. "Okay. Just holler if you need anything," she said before walking away.
The information lingered in my stunned mind until it settled.
She saved a bar from bankruptcy?
This bar wasn't even much. It seemed old and had been through a few storms. Sure, people flooded the place but the establishment in itself couldn't be a stable investment. Angel didn't strike me as a business woman either. I couldn't even see her as a doctor even though she was on her way there already.
I knew for a fact she was smarter than she seemed but owning a business involved taking responsibility. The girl probably didn't even know the meaning of the word.
My eyes went over to the bar, seeing Angel wiping the counter while talking to the other bartender and even with her so far, she was fucking with my head.
She took her cap off for the first time, her dark fiery hair, a mix of red and brown, falling over her shoulders. She had cut it a few inches shorter but still long enough to reach her waist and her forehead was framed by a fringe, emphasizing her silver eyes. I didn't get to appreciate her new hair color the first time but now I did.
The dark color only made her even more enigmatic. She was enchanting with the purple hair, looking like a fairy straight out of a story book, but with this, she became the image of Angel Lastor that I've always thought of her as. Dark. Brooding. Mysterious. Dangerous. Sexy.
And then she stripped off the hoodie she was wearing and revealed a tight fitting black camisole that only covered half of her torso. It was like every working eye went to her. Staring.
She didn't even notice it. She was too busy wiping the sweat from her body while the chatter in the bar noticeably quietened as nearly everyone in her vicinity solely focused on her, stunned by her undeniable beauty.
It wasn't even just that she was good looking. No, there was something more about this girl. Something inexplicable and powerful.
Her presence demanded attention and it was like something intangible was pulling you towards her at the mere sight of her. Jude was like that but in an intimidating kind of way. With Angel, she made worshiping her an almost inherent thing. I would have considered her to be godlike if she wasn't so painfully flawed.
I knew Angel Lastor more than the average bloke. I've seen her do things that could have any other person running the other way from the crazy bitch. Hell, I watched her tear her room apart in a fit of rage. But for some reason, my head ignored all the alarm bells that rang every time I was with her.
I denied it for a while but I knew why I dealt with all the shit that came along with her. It was because of the things I saw in her eyes, the cracks I heard in her voice, the faults in her many smiles, the awful scars on her body. It was the broken Angel that she often hid from the naked eye.
When you've witnessed all those things, you can't help but want to see more. To know more. To save her from herself because God knows this girl was on the verge of self-destructing and I didn't want to wake up one day regretting I never did anything when I had the chance because the truth is, Angel Lastor was crying out for help. It's just nobody could hear it, not even her.
Damn me to hell
"Wait. Is that Angel Lastor?" Mitchell spluttered out disbelief as he leaned over the table to get a better look at the bar.
I pursed my lips, inwardly willing her to put her cap back on and disappear.
From the conversations I've had with Mitchell, he was a big fan of the Lastor family. Everyone in the medical field probably was. I just hoped he didn't memorize all their faces.
"It is!" Mitchell gushed.
Sadly, he did.
Shay narrowed her eyes at the bar before shaking her head. "Angel Lastor has purple hair. You can't miss it. She's the only girl I've seen who can pull off purple hair and look like she was born with it."
"No, no. I saw a picture of her in the newspaper during her graduation. It's her!" Mitchell insisted.
Shay paused for a moment, thinking. "Yeah. I think I saw the article too. But Jude Lastor certainly had me staring. Damn, those two can make the rest of us look like monkeys." Bradley arched a brow at that and she shrugged. "What? Jude Lastor is a beautiful man. I'm in no position to deny that," she defended with a grin and he rolled his eyes. "What's she doing serving drinks anyhow? I read in an article she's got more money than sense. All Lastors do."
"No way." Scott slapped my arm, trying to get me to look at him.
"What?"
"You said you hooked up with her and never called her back!" he exclaimed and the others stared at me, gaping.
Oh dear God. This is what I get for lying.
"Dude, how the hell did you get to tap that?"
He was acting like I had won a Nobel for crissake.
"I didn't. I was just joking," I said lamely.
He narrowed his eyes at me, obviously not believing the lie. "How do you know her then?"
I shrugged. "I'm friends with her brother."
"Jude Lastor?" Mitchell gasped, staring wide eyed at me. "You're friends with Jude Lastor?" he practically yelled. "Who the hell are you?"
"We were roommates in college. We pledged to our fraternity together too," I stated simply, deciding to take a massive bite from my burger just so I wouldn't have to talk.
Mitchell grinned. "You lucky bastard!"
I rolled my eyes. They needed to stop making the Lastors sound like Gods. It would only make their egos larger than they already were. If they knew all the shit that came with their family, especially her, they wouldn't be this ecstatic.
I took a swig from my beer, ignoring their questioning gazes, not wanting to humor any questions about the Lastor family.
I've been friends with Jude long enough to know better than to indulge any information about them. And when I became acquainted with Angel, he had warned me that he won't hesitate to throw away our friendship if I even so much as talked about her to other people.
It was his subtle way of saying that if I told anyone about her problems, he'd end me in more ways than one. When a man of his power and wealth says that to your face, you don't dare to call bluff. Not like I was that kind of person anyways. I cared about the girl whether or not I liked it.
I glanced back at the bar, seeing Angel humoring the patrons with her trademark smirk that had them practically eating at the palm of her hand. It was pathetic. I was lucky enough that I snapped out of my infatuation towards her.
I shook my head, placing my beer on the table. "I need to take a piss," I said before getting to my feet.
"I have to go too," Laura chimed.
We headed for the rest rooms. I passed the bar a glance and for a splitting moment, I locked eyes with Angel and we glared at each other for some reason. It wasn't my fault, she kept doing it first and I wasn't going to fucking smile like an idiot.
I took my sweet time in the rest room, wanting to get their attention away from interrogating me about the Lastors any further. It was Friday and I was supposed to relax but no, for some reason, I always get myself dragged into the Lastors.
I waited for Laura who complained about the long line as she got out after nearly taking fifteen minutes in there. We walked back to our booth and I caught Angel arguing with a man at the bar, halting me mid-step.
"I said get your fucking hands off me!"
The man raised his arms, obviously unaware of the audience watching them.
"Relax, baby girl. I just wanted a drink," he slurred.
"No. Get the fuck out."
The man didn't seem to like her response and grabbed her arm again when she was about to walk away.
"Hey, I just want my beer!"
Before I knew it, I was going to her but then Angel did the damndest thing. She punched his wind pipe. Hard.
I stopped in my tracks, staring.
It happened faster than anyone could blink as Angel grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his face on the counter before shoving him away. He fell to the floor, the people around him parting while Angel swiftly went over the bar, making it seem effortless.
"You fucking bitch!" the man snarled as he clutched his bleeding nose.
Angel didn't honor him with a response and I only noticed she was holding a baseball bat when she swung it in the air with the grace of a professional and hit him in the gut. Hard.
He vomited almost instantaneously.
Everyone made sounds of disgust and pain on the man's behalf as he groaned and began coughing up for air as he laid on his own vomit, while I just stood there, looking into the scene. Absolutely dumbfounded like the rest of them.
He made a move to sit up but she hit him again with the bat, knocking him back down. She pressed her boot on his chest, pointing the bat at his face as blood continued to drip from his nose.
"What part of 'Don't fucking touch me' didn't you get, huh?" she hissed while he practically shook in anger as he choked on air.
"I'm going to sue you, you fucking bitch!"
She wasn't fazed one bit. She merely smiled as if she was amused with his threat, tilting her head to the side as she put more weight onto her boot.
"And what? Cry like a fucking baby and tell the judge a pretty girl kicked your ass?" she mocked and a chorus of snickering came. "Go home to your wife, prick. Don't bother coming back here again or I'll cut your fucking cock and shove it down your throat," she hissed and I was half-sure she'd do that.
She took a step back and spat at him before nodding at someone. A large man wearing a tight fitted black tee pushed through the crowd, grabbing the drunken fool by the arm.
"Take his picture and slap it on the board," Angel ordered.
"Copy," he grunted and dragged the man away.
Angel swung her body over the bar without even making so much of an effort. She placed the baseball bat under the counter and dusted her palms on her jeans, passing the other bartender a wink as he grinned.
"So, who asked for a martini?" she asked conversationally, smiling. As if she hadn't just physically assaulted a man three seconds ago.
Everyone just stared at her, a mix of shock and awe on their faces. She gave her audience a swift once over and her eyes settled on me. I held her gaze, not really knowing if I should say something or at least ask if she was okay but that question was probably fitting for the man whose nose she just broke.
"Hey, babe, I'm gonna take a break. Can you hold the fort for a few?" she directed at the bartender standing beside her while still looking at me.
"Yeah, sure," he said uncertainly, following her gaze and settling on me.
She went around the bar, grabbing a beer and coming towards me. I should have probably told her to stay the hell away from me because I didn't want to be associated with her after what just happened but like a switch, I'd gone stupid for her again.
I let her drag me behind her while she took swigs from her beer bottle, shoving it at a busboy along the way when she'd emptied it five swigs later.
She stopped by a door, taking out a set of keys and opening it. It led to a flight of stairs and I stumbled on my feet while she marched her way up into a dark room.
"Where are-"
I didn't get to say anything else because she slammed me against the wall and kissed me with enough force to break my lower lip.
I should have pushed her away or cursed the shit out of her but once again, I was just too fucking flat stupid. I kissed her back against better reasoning, hating myself for wanting her still.
My hands gripped her hips, pulling her into me while she took fistfuls of my hair, slipping her tongue into my mouth and I met her halfway. I turned, slamming her against the wall and taking her wrists, holding them over her head while I pinned her body with mine.
She made a sound of protest but I swallowed it down as I pressed my lips firmly against hers, the anger and lust I often felt for her burning me. And I just knew I was a lost cause. I couldn't be saved from the demise that Angel Lastor was paving the way to.
I had to stop. This wasn't right. It wasn't right the first time, and the second time, and every other fucking time. So I stopped. Because I was better than this. I wasn't like the other men who only wanted a good fuck out of her.
I pressed my forehead against hers, panting. She tugged at her wrists but I held them tighter. She glared at me, her silver eyes seemingly bright even in the dark. They reminded me of the moon. Reminded me of the darkness that hid behind them. The kind of darkness that offered no comfort but she made it seem so desirable and that's what I hated the most because I wasn't supposed to want her. But I did. And I hated it.
"Let me go," she demanded while pulling at her wrists.
"So you can run away again?"
My words came out bitter. Petty. I didn't care. This girl has been running away from me ever since we met but still constantly pulled me into the darkness that she dwelled in and no matter how much she claimed I wasn't one of her toys, she sure as hell treated me like one.
I looked down at her, seeing the stubbornness in her. But also, I saw the fear. Why was she so scared of me? Did she think I'd hurt her?
"I won't hurt you, Angel," I found myself saying, wanting her to believe that I was not like everyone else.
She merely laughed as if my words were some sort of joke but I heard the crack in her voice. When I looked at her, I caught the edge in her eyes, the pain she always hid.
Who hurt this girl? Who did this to her?
She didn't seem like the type of girl who'd let some asshole break her heart. No, Angel Lastor was far from a damsel in distress. But still, when she wasn't hiding behind her wall, I'd see it. How utterly broken she was.
"Who's the bitch?" she suddenly spat.
I frowned, looking at her in confusion. "What?"
"The bitch who was all over you."
For a moment, I just looked at her and then the realization dawned on me.
"Laura?"
She scoffed, twisting her wrists free from my grip. "You got a girlfriend and you've been fucking me. I should have known."
"What? She's not my girlfriend."
She stilled, her eyes narrowing at me, doubtful. Did she really think I was that type of guy?
"If she was, I wouldn't have had my tongue down your throat a second ago," I hissed, not knowing why I was even explaining anything to her. It was none of her goddamn business anyways. "Are you jealous or something?"
Her brows furrowed at my question while she blinked at me for a moment, almost as if she was considering it. Almost as if she wasn't even aware of it. Her eyes met mine, filled with genuine confusion, and I could almost hear the gears in her head running.
She shook her head, as if to shake the thought off. Then she was suddenly glaring at me as if she was blaming me for something I had no clue of.
"Fuck this." She pushed me off her but I didn't budge. "Get off me!"
I kissed her to shut her up. She hit my shoulders with her fists but I ignored it, pressing my body against hers while I held either side of her head, fisting through her hair. I pulled back before I got carried away, sliding my hands to her cheeks and cupping her face with both hands.
I looked down at her, trying to catch even a hint of what she was hiding inside. I could see the anger in her eyes. It was the only thing she never manages to hide, the anger. It seemed like it was always there, filling her, driving her. Keeping her alive.
"I don't get you," I said, sighing. "You tell me to stay away from you and yet… this." I shook my head, not knowing what I meant by this. "What do you want from me, Angel? Spell it out for me because I'm tired of trying to understand you."
She dropped her gaze to my chest, her fingers rubbing at the stain on my shirt from earlier.
"I don't know. I just don't fucking know," she said, the anger evident in her voice as if not knowing made her angry.
I sighed, trying to catch her gaze, seeing the conflict in her eyes as if she was still trying to understand something. I didn't know her enough to presume what was in her head but I had a feeling that she was trying to block out any sort of unwanted feelings, unfamiliar ones.
"You feel it, don't you?" I said softly. "This?"
I took her lips in mine, catching her off guard as I stole a kiss from her. Even I felt it.
"And this."
I slid my palms over her sides, settling on her hips and a sharp breath escaped her lips.
"You feel it. You want me."
She scoffed. "You're an arrogant piece of shit."
"But I'm right," I stated matter-of-factly.
I didn't care if I was arrogant. I knew she wanted me. She felt more than what she was willing to show and that was what frustrated me so much. She just couldn't fucking admit it. It was like dealing with a teenager who was going through puberty with her. Doing the whole 'I like you so I'm going to make you miserable' thing. We were too old for that shit.
"I like fucking you. That's it," she spat in disdain.
I quirked a brow, tilting my head to look at her. "You should know by now that this whole bitch act doesn't work on me. I know you're a bitch, but I also know it's just a tactic to hide something else. Something you don't want people to see."
I hit it again. Her wall. I knew I did because she immediately put her guard up, her eyes becoming blank.
"Stop doing that."
She arched a brow. "Doing what?"
"Hiding. Stop it. It pisses me off."
She shrugged, looking away. "I need to go back. MJ's probably slammed out there."
"So? You own the place."
She stilled, her eyes snapping to mine. "Who told you?"
"The waitress."
She clicked her tongue against her teeth, looking annoyed. "I don't own anything. I leant them money and they're paying me back by not letting me pay shit."
"Same thing."
"It's not," she hissed.
"You hate it, don't you? Letting people see you're not an actual bitch."
I chuckled, somehow amused that she didn't want to be seen doing anything relatively good. It would probably hurt her reputation.
"I am a bitch."
"You are. But that's not everything. It's barely who you are."
"You don't know who I am."
"Then tell me."
I wasn't going to deny it, I wanted to know her. I've wanted to know her before I even met her.
She sighed, shaking her head, her body sagging against the wall as if her strength was ripped away by my words. For a moment, she looked exhausted and I only just noticed the dark circles around her eyes and the unnatural paleness of her skin. I touched her cheek and my initial thought was confirmed. She was as cold as ice.
"I don't know," she whispered, her voice breaking at every syllable and the sound of it gripped my chest.
I felt it, the pain she constantly hid. She screwed her eyes shut firmly, biting her lip tightly while her hands curled into fists as if she was fighting against something within her.
"I don't know who I am but I'm sure it's not worth the thought."
There goes those vague words that held more meaning than they seemed again. Will she ever just say what she actually means for once?
I sighed and I didn't know why but I suddenly wanted to hold her. So I did, wrapping my arms around her. She froze.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked in a harsh voice.
"I have no idea," I murmured, tightening my hold on her and burying my face in her hair.
She tried to fight it but I didn't relent, keeping my arms around her. Gradually, she relaxed and let herself lean against me, pressing her face against my chest as she gripped my waist before tentatively wrapping her arms around my back.
A strange sense of satisfaction and relief filled me. Standing like this, holding her like this, seemed so... right and I didn't know what to do with it because everything about her was wrong. Wanting her was so wrong and yet every time I was with her, everything felt so perfect. It didn't make any fucking sense.
"How have you been?" I asked.
"You don't want to know," she said in a quiet voice.
"Did something bad happen?"
She shook her head, pressing herself further into me. "It doesn't matter now."
I sighed, brushing my fingers through her hair. "I think I missed you."
"Don't say that."
"Why? Scared I mean it?"
She didn't respond and I smiled to myself, knowing I was right. Big bad Angel Lastor was scared of me. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so frustrating.
I let the silence linger and savored this stolent moment until she inevitable ran away again. I considered what to do with that, whether to let her go and return to pretending she didn't exist or chase after her and be at her mercy.
There was a knock at the door, followed by someone yelling, "Red! You in there?"
"Fuck off!" she yelled back.
"Can I take my break? My feet are killing me!"
"Fine, just fuck off!"
"Thanks and happy fucking!"
Angel groaned, thumping her forehead against my chest. I chuckled lightly, keeping my face buried in her hair. She smelled like strawberries and I found it so utterly disarming, I couldn't help but keep breathing her in.
"You shouldn't have let me drag you back here," she mumbled in a quiet voice.
"Why did you?"
"I was pissed off."
"Are you still pissed off?"
She sighed. "No, that's the problem."
She pulled away, slipping away from me and leaving me behind all over again. I was getting sick of her doing that and decided the peace I had to work for in her absence wasn't as satisfying as the peace I got with her in my fucking arms.
Let's be stupid and chase this crazy girl.
I followed her out of the room, grabbing her hand before she could run away again. I ignored the death glare she sent me and dragged her back to our booth. Well, her booth.
"Get off. I need to get back to work," she said while trying to yank her arm off my hold.
"So you can get disrespected by some drunk fool again?"
"Why do you care?"
I sighed and just pulled her closer to me. "I don't even know why, gorgeous."
As we neared the booth where the others sat, their eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at the sight of me practically hauling a struggling Angel behind me. I offered them a curt smile as I slid into the booth, forcibly making her sit beside me but she just kept cussing me out.
"Just shut up and sit down, will you?" I snapped.
"There's no space, asshole," she fired back, yanking her arm out of my hand and in true Angel Lastor fashion, she sat on my lap. Just like that.
I think Mitchell choked on his tongue.
She whistled, waving a finger at the waitress who tended to us earlier and she grudgingly bounded towards us.
"What? I just started my break."
"Just get me a drink and you can have another ten minutes."
"Ugh. Fine. You want the usual?"
"Yeah and-" She paused, her brows furrowing as she sniffed. "Have you been drinking?"
"No. I spilled some while I was clearing a table," she lied horribly.
"You want me to tell Mikey you've been sneaking drinks again?" The girl pouted and Angel flicked her lips. "Go get my drink and cover your tits while you're at it. I already know you fucked a costumer in the office last month. You're not fucking anyone tonight."
She gasped, her eyes widening. "How did you…"
Angel sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Cameras, kid. Fucking cameras."
"Stop calling me kid! I'm eighteen!"
Angel snorted. "Like I give a shit," she muttered before letting out a sharp whistle.
The bartender looked up and she yelled a string of Italian words at him. He glared at the girl.
"That's your cue, kid. I want my drink in sixty seconds," she ordered and the girl stomped her way to the bar.
Angel turned to the others who were simply staring at her. She turned it on, the charm that often had people reeling and eating at the palm of her hand.
"Hi there. I'm-"
"Angel Lastor," Mitchell cut in.
She quirked a brow, glancing at me as she shifted to face him. She eyed Mitchell for a moment, her silver eyes just piercing through him and I wasn't surprised that he blushed. Of course he'd blush.
She chuckled, smirking. "I'm afraid you have me at the disadvantage, Doc." She leaned over the table, holding out a hand to him. "I'd like to know you though. What's your name, sweetheart?"
Mitchell seemed frozen as he stared at her, his jaw twitching as it hung open as if his words didn't have a sound.
"He's Mitchell," I said for him.
Angel chuckled, grasping his chin between her fingers and closing his mouth. He trembled. Really.
"Fascinating," she mumbled, stroking a finger along his cheek that had him blowing out harsh air through his nose as he shook again.
I would have found it pathetic if I didn't know what it was like to be trembling at Angel's touch. On the contrary, it was annoying seeing it in someone else.
"Babe, relax. It's just a finger. I'm not even sucking your cock or anything," she quipped, snickering and I was tempted to tape her mouth shut.
I placed a hand on her hip, squeezing it lightly to get her attention. She glanced back at me, arching a brow.
"Stop it."
"I wasn't doing anything," she said innocently, her smile wicked.
I rolled my eyes. Exactly. She wasn't doing anything at all and yet the effect she had on people was almost inherent.
"These are Bradley, Shay, Scott, and Laura," I said to finish with the introductions and spare them from her games.
Angel nodded in recognition, offering them a smile. "So you guys work together at the hospital?" she said conversationally, sounding far more pleasant than she usually was with me.
"Yeah. Yes. Yes, we do," Scott stammered as he nodded vigorously. "I gotta say, it is such an honor to meet you, Miss Lastor. Your grandfather was one of my heroes as a boy and meeting you is just... wow... thank you for the beer and-"
"Dude, breathe for a sec."
"I'm sorry. You're just...." he trailed off, flushing comically. I snorted.
"It's just a pretty face, Scott," she said in amusement.
He reddened even more, probably at the sound of his name being said in a way only Angel can.
"Sorry," he muttered, wiping a hand over his face.
"It's cool. I'm used to it," she said, shrugging.
I rolled my eyes at her arrogance but she was probably being honest too.
The waitress came back with a glass and a bottle of Jack. I glared at the sight of it.
"No. Take that back," I immediately said, grabbing the bottle and handing it back to the girl.
I'd be damned if I tolerated her alcoholism.
She arched a brow, glancing at Angel. "Red?"
"I'll call you if I need anything."
The girl nodded, sending me a wink as she walked away. Angel turned fully to the side, her legs dangling by my right. She put an arm over my shoulder as she leaned closer till her lips brushed my ear.
"If these pricks know shit about me, you're dead," she whispered before placing a swift kiss on my cheek and settling her attention on the others who were eyeing us curiously.
Her words lingered in my head and I wasn't sure if she meant them or not. She probably did.
"So, Rick... how come you never mentioned you're dating Angel Lastor?" Bradley asked pointedly, almost as if he was accusing me of something.
"That's because he isn't," Angel said for me as she lit up a cigarette.
Bradely quirked a brow, eyeing our extremely inappropriate position.
"So you're just friends?"
The judgment was just there. He was judging my character based on the assumption that I was sleeping with Angel Lastor. It was downright offensive.
"No. We're not friends," Angel said again.
"So what are you two, then? Oh, wait, I think I get it now," he said, chuckling humorlessly.
Angel's brows furrowed as she looked at him intently. "Bradley, right?"
"Yeah."
"Bradley what?"
"Lewis."
She shifted to face front and held out her hand between them. He looked at it in confusion and she urged him to take it with a nod. He obliged, shaking it uncertainly.
When he was about to pull his hand back, she yanked him forward, nearly making him fall over the table. He looked at her warily but she merely smiled and I was sure she was holding his hand in a tight grip by the grimace he made.
"I'm Angel Lastor. It would do you well to remember that, Bradley Lewis," she murmured softly while offering a menacing smile.
Bradley stilled for a moment and I knew Angel meant more than her words like she always did. Bradley probably knew that too as he passed me a wary glance.
"Of course, Miss Lastor," he blurted out, losing the bravado all together.
"Call me Angel, sweetheart."
She winked before pulling her hand away, her charm catching him off guard. She engaged the others in a friendly chat, like she's known them for years and she wasn't sitting on my lap. Mitchell was stuttering and tripping on his tongue and Scott couldn't be more obvious that he was fucking her in his head. The girls were trying and failing to hide that they were intimidated with her presence while Bradley just kept his mouth shout, purposely avoiding eye contact with her, and me.
It didn't take too long for her to have them eating at the palm of her hand, practically hanging on every word she said. Mitchell was firing her questions about the empire the Lastor family had built and she answered them with a flourish as if she was in an interview. He looked like a fan boy meeting his favorite hero for the first time.
Angel ordered another round of beers for everyone and a glass of whiskey for her but the waitress placed a cup of coffee in front of her instead.
I felt Angel still, her body visibly stiffening as she looked at the coffee before looking at the girl who merely cleared the table of our empty bottles. Angel glanced at the bar and I followed her gaze, catching sight of a suited man sitting on a stool, taking sips from his glass as he watched us. He lifted his glass, flashing Angel a smile.
"Mindy, go to MJ. Now," Angel ordered, keeping her voice low, turning serious. "And don't look," she added.
She turned to everyone who didn't seem to catch the shift in the air.
"I need to go to the rest room. Excuse me for a bit," she said with a forced tone of nonchalance in her voice before sliding off my lap.
I caught her wrist, passing her a questioning look but she merely smirked.
"Don't let anyone take my seat, yeah?" she said cheekily before walking away.
I didn't miss how she and Mindy passed something between them as they walked.
I froze when I caught what the object was. A fucking gun.
What the hell?
Angel tucked it in the waistband of her jeans and turned a corner, the suited man following a pace behind her with two more men while Mindy strode towards the bar. The bartender watched them, his face firm with tension. He caught me looking and he hastily went back to his work.
I felt a sense of apprehension come to me as I watched them disappear while the patrons inside the bar merely ignored them and filled themselves with alcohol.
"God, the magazines don't do her justice," Shay was gushing. "I think she's the most beautiful person I've ever met. Did you see her eyes? Jesus Christ. It was like she was looking into my soul! I could barely say a word with her looking at me!"
"She's intimidating, I'll say that," Bradley muttered before taking a sip of his beer.
"That's because you were being an ass," she chided, slapping his arm.
He shrugged, passing me a glance. "I was just asking, what's so wrong about that?"
"You were implying something that you had no concern about, Brad," I said irately.
He scoffed. "You don't have to be defensive, man. Besides, it's obvious that you're sleeping with her."
I really wanted to hit this guy.
"Even if I was, it really is none of your concern."
"She was sitting on your lap, Rick," he said in a flat note.
Shay slapped his arm again. "Stop it and he's right. It's none of your concern and she was nice to us," she said, glaring at him. "You should apologize to her. You were very disrespectful and extremely out of line."
He looked like he was about to protest but relented when she kept glaring at him.
"Fine, fine. I will," he said grudgingly.
"And to Rick too," she added.
He sighed. "Sorry, man. It wasn't my intention to offend you."
I shrugged. "Just don't be stupid enough to make assumptions about her. Angel hates that and trust me when I say, she's the last person you'd want to piss off," I said and it was almost hilarious how much he cowered away at that.
"I've heard rumors about her, you know?" Mitchell suddenly said, his voice hush as if he was sharing a secret. "There's this story I heard where a guy met her at a party. He said she was the weirdest chick he's ever met. She kept talking about weird things all night. Things that can really get in your head. He thought she was just high or something so he brushed it off. They were together for a few days, just running around partying and hooking up. But then one morning, she disappeared. He never saw her again. He almost went insane, saying he needed to find her or he'd kill himself. A few weeks later, he managed to track her down. But get this, she said she's never seen him before. She just flat out denied him. The poor guy fell apart and went off the grid. Nobody's seen him since then. Some say he killed himself, others claim he snapped and went insane."
They looked at me, their eyes wide as if waiting for some confirmation on her behalf. For a group of intelligent medical professionals, they sure are naïve.
"That's just a load of bull," I muttered with a roll of my eyes.
Mitchell had this air about him, like an airhead for believing some bullshit tale. Although I wouldn't deny that a few pieces in his story seemed like a thing that Angel does. Like spouting deep profound bullshit that messes with your head. Disappearing. Driving a man to insanity. But I knew her enough to know that the stories people spread about her were pure exaggerations. Or maybe some men were just way too weak to survive her. But seriously? Committing suicide out of desperation? That's just preposterous.
"Angel's not all that," I went on, snorting at the thought. "She's just weird and manipulative. Her pretty face gets people staring and her pretty words can get anyone falling for her. She plays games with people out of boredom. She was even playing with you guys."
They frowned, their brows furrowing as if they were considering my words.
"The more you show yourself to her, the easier you are to play with. She treats people like toys. She'll play with you and throw you away when she gets bored. That's all there is to her and people need to romanticizing it."
I didn't know why I was saying all this crap about her. Maybe I just didn't want them to fall into her web of colossal damage. Maybe I was just convincing myself that there was nothing more about her. That she did the things she did out of boredom but I knew deep down, there was more. I was just afraid of knowing. Of falling. Because who would want to fall into a dark abyss and have no possible way of escaping? I sure as hell didn't.