Page 44 of Manhattan Tormentor

“Liar.”

“This has been fun, but I’m busy.” He states, cold as ice. I never knew he had it in him. My dick aches behind the zipper and I palm myself to calm it down. We’re not getting into that again; I already had the dick talk and he understands we can’t have him.

“Jesus. Just fucking wait.”

“Why? Getting your quota of assholery in? You’ve left Richmond Academy now. We have no reason to bump into each other, you can find a new Damsel as your sport.”

“There’s only one Damsel, Fierro.”

I sound like a sentimental jackoff.

Just as well I hear the door sliding open. I flip my head around to see Bates stepping through, placing the phone face down on my knee. He’s only wearing his jeans and his hair looks well fucked.

His farewell bang with Paris went well then.

Beer in one hand, he has a blunt in the other; I click my fingers for it and he hands it over. “I think she broke my dick,” he announces, plonking down on the ground with me. “Did you send her home?”

“Nah, she’s taking a nap, I’ll hit round two after I down some shots. Unless you wanna take a turn with her.”

“Fuck off,” I laugh with a mouthful of smoke that I take into my lungs.

“Sharing is caring, bro. I’m all emotional and shit.” He smirks. “I’m sure she moaned your name a few times.”

“And you still continued?”

“We don’t let a small thing like that put us off good pussy, bro.”

He’s an animal without a soul. Just like me.

Three tokes in, half-listening to Bates regale his sexcapades, I remember Sage and flip my phone around.

My stomach bottoms out to see he’s hung up.

When did he tap out? Was it when I blacked the screen to hide him or when Bates offered me his sloppy seconds?

Shrugging, I lay my head back. Life is changing tomorrow.

I don’t call him back.

I get high and forget a pair of blue eyes.

C H A P T E R 11

Sage

Sometimes I have to pretend I’m a human and do human things.

It’s mostly for family Monday dinners where mom will overfill the table with whatever she cooks that day. Chinese, Mexican, or my favorite sushi. No one can refuse family Monday and live to tell the tale of how they said no to Sena Fierro.

It’s not dinner that has me out of my workshop tonight.

Raene and Thatcher ganged up and pressured me into going to the movies and then for something to eat.

“You know I could be home working on something brilliant right now.”

Thatcher clips me around the head, and I scowl at his grin. He passes a menu over. “Order already, Einstein. We’re about to be seniors in school, not in the care home, we need some fun.”

“Boys, I have an announcement.” My sister says clapping her hands like she’s a queen on her throne demanding attention.

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