I shrugged my jacket on, stretching my neck in a circular motion to mend my sore muscles.
The day was hectic. A vehicular accident involving a bus and a Honda colliding at an intersection brought us over twenty three injured commuters, one dead victim –the driver of the Honda– and the two passengers of the vehicle were in critical state. One was in a coma, the other had to go into emergency surgery to amputate her leg.
This wasn't an everyday occurrence and it marked the first unnatural death I had to tend to in my career. Needless to say, I felt like shit. It didn't help that I thought calling the girl who was responsible for my sleepless nights would make me feel better. It only pissed me off and I had to spend the rest of my shift snapping at anyone who asked if I was okay. Which was why I didn't turn down the offer to grab drinks after our shifts. I didn't even argue when they said they wanted to go to Mikey's. I was craving for a good beer.
When we got there, I immediately spotted the familiar red sports car that I remembered was owned by none other than the wicked bitch of Upper East Side herself.
I hated the spark of expectation that came to me at the prospect of seeing her after what seemed like an eternity. I shut it down immediately.
She was set on being a bitch today and I was too tired to be her punching bag right now. It was like taking one step forward and two steps back with her. Just when I thought we were going somewhere, we'd fall back into the same old shouting matches.
I need a drink.
Soctt let out a low whistle as he got out his car, eyeing the red Viper with envy.
"Damn. That's one hot beauty."
"It's obnoxious," I muttered, following the others as they headed for the entrance.
The bar wasn't as packed as it was on the weekends and we put two tables together to fit all fifteen of us. I barely knew some of them but I worked with most of them in the ER and we talked about the accident from earlier in the day while we each nursed a cold bottle of beer.
"Was it your first?" Ryan Tate, a trauma surgeon, asked as he sat across from me.
I rubbed a hand over my face, sighing. "Yeah."
"I can tell. I remember the first time I had a patient die on my table." He paused, feigning a shiver. "It was a robbery. The poor guy was on his way home and some punks tried to steal his car. He fought back and got shot seven times. I couldn't sleep for two nights."
He grimaced before downing his beer.
In our field, death was inevitable. They said you'll get used to it and eventually become desensitized enough not to think about it but I doubted that at all. I felt like shit having to tell the driver's – Paul Cameron's – loved ones of his death. He had his two teenage daughters riding with him as passengers and his wife had to find out her husband was dead and her children were dying through a stranger.
If it were my mother, she probably would have passed out and gotten into a full blown breakdown, but Charice Cameron took it in stride and thanked me. As if she was grateful I told her such an awful thing. I couldn't imagine the strength it would take to get through something like this.
It had been the bus driver's fault. He had dozed off while on the wheel and when we got him in the emergency room, his blood alcohol level went off the charts that I was surprised he hadn't died from alcohol poisoning. I reluctantly saved his life along with two other doctors. The prick would probably wake up with no recollection of the incident and a shitload of lawsuits on his way.
I downed my beer in one swig to shake away the horrible image of Paul Cameron's mangled corpse.
I felt Scott nudge me with his elbow and I arched a brow.
"What?"
"Ain't that your girlfriend over there?" he said, jutting his thumb towards behind us.
I frowned, following the direction and my gaze landing on Angel in her booth by the farthest corner of the bar, practically secluded, with that guy we met at Hunts Point, Leo. They were sitting beside each other, too fucking close for my comfort.
"They seem pretty cozy, if you ask me," Scott was saying. "If she were mine, I wouldn't let any man within a ten mile radius from her."
"She's not mine," I muttered before looking away.
He snickered. "Yeah? Is that why you spent the entire night looking pissed off at the world?"
I shot him a dark look and he raised his palms up as he drew back.
"Next round's on me," I announced as I got to my feet and they cheered at that.
I made my way to the bar, waving a hand to get the bartender's attention and he nodded in recognition as he slid towards me.
"Three buckets of beer, please."
He arched a brow. "You're Red's friend, right?" he queried with a tilt of his head.
"Right."
"Michael de Rossi," he said, holding out a hand. "Call me MJ."
"Frederick Richardson," I said, taking his hand and shaking it briefly. "You can call me Rick."
"So, there any reason you're getting pissed drunk on a Wednesday night, Rick?" he said in amusement.
"No, just here with some co-workers," I muttered, leaning against the bar as he took out the bottles.
My eyes went to her unconsciously and I glared when I caught that Leo prick put an arm around her, pulling her closer as if he couldn't talk to her unless they were three inches away from each other.
"You know Alex?" I heard Michael say.
I straightened, clearing my throat. "Who?"
He nodded towards their booth. "Alex. The new guy. Red sent him to work here. Says he's here to do the accounting and manage the bar." He snorted, following my gaze as I looked at the pair. "Fuckin' useless if you ask me. He's done jack shit since he got here, at least he's not on the pay roll."
I faintly remembered Leo and Angel's exchange from that night. They had this vague discussion about dummy corporations and what his name was going to be, ending with Leo going into this spiel and making up an elaborate backstory. I did not want to know what the fuck that was for.
"How do you know Red anyways?" Michael asked.
"I'm friends with her brother."
His brows furrowed. "Huh. I thought she didn't sleep with Jude's friends?"
"She's not- we're not-" I sighed when he gave me a flat look. "It's not like that."
He chuckled, folding his arms over the bar. "Want my advice?" he said, suddenly growing serious as he leaned closer. "You don't want to get mixed up with a chick like Red."
I drew my head back at that. Where the hell did that came from?
"I love her and all," he went on. "But she's not someone you can do the whole happily ever after crap with. Red's got too much shit in her closet. You look like a good guy, that's why I'm saying this. Good guys can't survive chicks like Red. I mean, yeah she's fucking gorgeous and the sex is out of this world but she's gonna rip you apart by the end of it," he said, shaking his head as he glanced at her. "I know this shit cuz I fell pretty fucking hard for her too. I'm over it now and in some sick way, I love her like a sister, but four years ago?" He let out a low whistle, chuckling almost humorlessly. "That girl ripped my heart out without even breaking a sweat."
I frowned, not knowing why I was even listening to someone who was obviously an ex-lover of hers and didn't know the meaning of too much information.
"Why did she do that?" I asked against better reasoning.
"Told her I loved her." He chuckled, looking back at Angel. "She sucked my dick and spat my cum on my face as a response," he said with barely a hitch in his voice. He was even grinning. "I nearly killed myself, man."
For a moment, I let his words register in my head. I knew Angel could be harsh and that much cruelty from her was something I shouldn't be surprised about but still, that was taking it too far. Why was he even friends with her still?
"She's a good person," Michael suddenly said and I passed him a strange look.
Is he serious?
He chuckled. "I know how she gets, but it's just the way she is with people. She does things her own way and most times, it hurts like a bitch. But I know she only did it because she didn't want me going after her. Like I said, she's got too much shit in her closet that she doesn't want people to see."
I looked back at the booth just as Angel was turning to look at us and for a moment, we just stared at each other. I watched her down the glass in front of her before taking a long drag from her cigarette. She glared at me before looking away and I was tempted to rip her head off for some reason.
I heard Michael laugh. "You're whipped. I can see that."
"We're just friends," I offered lamely.
He laughed even harder as if my pathetic attempt at dismissing her was laughable. It was.
"Let me guess, she told you to stay away from her cuz she's a bad person?" he said, hitting the bulls eye without even trying. "Probably said something about not deserving you or some shit. Am I right?"
He laughed when I didn't answer.
"Man, she used to go on and on about that shit. Have you stayed the night with her?"
I frowned, nodding. He offered a sickening amount of pity that I nearly hit him.
"Fucking awful, huh?" he said somberly and I knew what he was implying. The nightmares. "It scared the shit out of me the first time." He sighed and looked at her. "The only time I've heard someone scream the way she did was when I was still Iraq and a brother got both legs blown up by a land mine. That's when I realized she's got too much fucked up shit that I know I can't handle. So I didn't bother asking. But, man..." He blew out a sharp breath. "That girl's got so much darkness inside her, I'm not surprised she's like that. But you know what?" He glanced at me, smirking. "I still love her. I'm just too much of a pussy to deal with the shit that comes along with her," he said before straightening. "Here's your beers. I'd say on the house but I can't unless Red says so. She's the only one who can give free shit."
I nodded numbly as I took out a few wad of bills before taking the three buckets he had put the beers in.
"Hey. It was just my advice," he said, patting my shoulder. "Go after her if you want, but it won't be an easy race cuz she's always gonna be two steps ahead of you."
And with that, he turned back to tend to his impatient patrons. I passed her one last glance before walking back to our table, placing the beer buckets that everyone immediately went for before I even got to sit down.
As I sipped on my beer, all I could think of was what Angel Lastor was hiding and, watching her be in someone else's arms, I decided, I was going to break her fucking open.
Make her bare herself to me completely. Pull out everything she was keeping locked away inside. Get rid of the bad and mold pieces of myself into her. Be hers and she mine.
I'll be careful not to hurt her again, but I couldn't promise to be gentle. I can apologize once I've put her back together.