Page 2 of Amour Fou
“Can the both of you stop fucking standing there and GET OUT!”
Yep, Deckard really is pissed, and if the crimson colour on his face is anything to go by, I’m about to have something thrown at me. It’s Cairo’s words I don’t expect.
“Deck, it’s fine. He obviously thinks he has something better to offer me than you do.” She makes eye contact with me, manoeuvring her hand from underneath her body, and reaches to me. “Come on then, show me what you got.”
“What the fuck!?” Deckard looks down, hand still entwined tightly in her black hair.
“No, come on, baby. Let’s see what he’s got.”
“Uh, what?” My eyes dart between the both of them. “I… Wait a second, I—”
Cairo bursts out laughing. “Get the fuck out of here, Xaden! Don’t barge in and offer if you’re too chicken-shit to follow through.” I dodge out the way, just in time for the plastic tissue box to fly past my head.
“Ok, now that’s just rude. I was going to give you some tips on how you can—”
“OUT, FUCKER!” Deckard bellows, humour at the end of the word. Hands grip my shoulders and before I know it, I’m being dragged out by Zeke. “Get some fucking work done while you’re at it, instead of interrupting—” He doesn’t get to finish before Zeke slams the door shut behind him.
“What did I say?” He steps forward. “Leave them to their shit. You fuck this gig up for us,‘akh,and I’ll slaughter you myself.”
“Come on, don’t be mad at me.” I inch closer to him, pursing my lips together in a kissing motion. “You just need to get laid, and I promise—”
“Yakhsaf Allah bih al’ard,”he grumbles, shoulder checking me on the way past, and in true Zeke fashion, he uses his hands and arms to accentuate the insult. Except that does nothing but make me laugh harder. Zeke has always been so poetic in hisinsults.
Asking Allah to swallow the earth beneath me is one of his favourites.
“Habibi,wait!” I laugh, chasing him down the corridor.
Cairo joined the team almost one year ago, and since she’s been here, things have only expanded. I’d be lying if I said things haven’t changed for the better. Her hacking skills are better than her counterparts, and she has managed to free up Deckard’s time a lot more, which has led to more openings and spaces being secured for future events.
Which in turn means more donations, more private sponsorships, and much more money. I follow Zeke into the main hallway of the mansion and help the staff make sure everything is checked and correctly set up.
Zeke and I spent five years in the military as part of Delta Force, and our unit was always high on the list for being the most competent at getting shit done. I followed him into battle every single time, and even now, nothing has changed.
Our blood together runs thicker than that of our own families. We were hired as part of Idée Fixe two years ago and are the eyes and ears of every single operation necessary to make sure each night runs as smooth as possible. Our knowledge is key to keeping everyone who enters Idée Fixe safe, and even with Deckard’s extensive knowledge from tour, he has other stuff to focus on. That’s why we’re here.
While Zeke makes his way over to a group of workers standing by the electrical office, I decide to give him a break from my antics and help the rest of the crew clean out the foyer. We have three weeks left until the next event, and it needs to be perfect.
“Okay. What needs to be kept?” I ask the blonde girl standing with her back to me. Turning around, her gaze meets my chest and slowly raises, her jaw slack.
Their reactions are always the same.
Standing at six-foot-five, Zeke at six-seven, both of us covered in more tattoos than skin, it’s hard for either of us to be missed in a crowd. Which in turn, makes it harder for us to hunt on theveryrare nights we take Caretaker roles. It isn’t all that often, usually only when someone calls in sick or quits.
“I…uh.” She clears her throat, her facial expressions moulding from fear to excitement to panic. The grin I’m trying to hold back finally cracks, crawling upwards from one side of my mouth to the other, and I step forward.
“You what… blondie. Tell me.”
“T-the box with—” She points to the right, not taking her eyes off me as I step closer, her chest nearly pressed to my stomach.
This one’s tiny.
“The box with what?” I twirl a piece of her hair in my fingers but the sound of boxes flying steals my attention. Nix stumbles through the archway of the mansion Deckard secured last month, tripping over the cardboard boxes.
“Merde!”
Someone’s pissed.
The pretty little blonde takes that as her moment of freedom, and leaves.
