Page 2 of King's Barber
“No, it’s not. It’s Luke Booth.” He waved his hand at me. “I’ve never understood you bikers and your need for nicknames. It’s easy to figure out who you are.”
I gritted my jaw and gave him a long once-over, stopping at the necklace that hung against his chest with a ring on it. He never took that damned thing off, and I’d been curious about it since the first time I saw him. “It’s how we do things. We don’t need your opinion.”
Quain raised his eyebrows and smiled in that smarmy way I hated. “That’s the thing about opinions, Mr. Booth—”
“They’re like assholes, everyone has one?” I stepped into his personal space until our faces were close. He smelled like rosewood—earthy and fresh—but that described Quain’s entire appearance. He was a well-put-together man with fashionable clothes. Then there was the cleanliness. He was always so spotless, not a single piece of hair on his skin, even though he worked with it all day, whereas all it took was one shave and I was covered in the stuff.
“Yes, but that’s not what I was going to say.”
To my surprise he shifted closer until our noses were touching. If this wasn’t a game of who had a bigger schlong, I didn’t know what was. The pupils of his eyes swallowed his brown irises, making them nearly black.
“I was going to say that everyone can voice theirs. It’s a free country.” He patted me on the cheek, and my muscles stiffened, but he was already spinning on his heel and gliding toward the exit like he was walking on air.Graceful prick.He stopped before he reached the door, though, and turned toward me with a smirk. “And Mr. Booth… your trash can is overflowing again. Fix that or I’ll contact Henry.”
Henry, the fucking traitorous landlord.
Quain fluttered his fingers at me and left.
A combination of need and frustration pelted my stomach and I gritted my teeth, hissing in the direction of the closed door.Bastard.That good-looking, prissy asshole. I wanted to pound his pretty face into the pavement, but also kiss it, too. Hands curling into fists, I started forward. Someone grabbed my shoulder, stopping me, and when I spun to tell them to fuck off, I was met with Oli’s unimpressed look.
“You can’t kill him. You’ll land your ass in prison.”
“Fuck off, kid. You see that weasel? He deserves a beating.”
Oli grinned at me. “Depends on what kind of beating you want to give him. If you ask me, you’d like to beat offonhim.”
I clenched my jaw tighter and let out a feral growl. “You’re too young to say shit like that. Go do your job and clean out the cash drawer.”
Oli groaned and grabbed my hand, slapping a closed razor in my palm. “Clean up your own mess from now on. Blood is disgusting,” he snapped, before heading to the register with low mumbles I couldn’t make out. I probably didn’t want to hear what he was saying because I had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything nice about me.
I sighed and fell into the customer chair, leaning back on the headrest. “You figure he wants me to screw him?”
Oli paused after he pulled a wad of cash out of the register and slapped it on the counter. He frowned at me, brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’d finally started growing his version of a beard and mustache, but there was barely enough hair there to call it anything but peach fuzz. When I’d asked him why he was trying to grow one, he’d shrugged and not answered, and I had a feeling something was happening at school. If anyone knew what a shithole high school was, it was me. That’s why I’d dropped out and had come to New Gothenburg. “Why? Do you want him to?”
“Fuck no.” I laughed, running my hand over my crew cut, the spikes on top prickling my palm. “I could fuck any pretty boy I wanted. I don’t need someone who’s already got something stuck that far up his ass. There would be no room for my cock.”
Oli blinked at me and half rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “God help me if I’m as stupid as you when I’m a full-grown adult….”
“Hey, what does that mean?” I sat up straighter and crossed my arms, eyes narrowed on him. “I’m as smart as they come, kid. You would be privileged to be like me.”
“I’d rather be like King.” He smiled but there wasn’t anything pleasant about it.
I grunted out a laugh. “Yeah, you and everyone else. Plus, I don’t think you want to be like King—I think you want to get fucked by him. Here’s the thing,Oliver.” I held up a finger to him. “One, you’re too young. He doesn’t fuck anyone under twenty, at least.” I added another finger. “Two, he’s got someone permanent now. The fed is a good guy, but I don’t think he’s going to let a young punk try to steal what belongs to him.”
Oli’s cheeks flushed red again. “I don’t want to—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all.” I fell back against the chair again and laid my hands on my stomach. “If you’d been a touch older, he might have fucked you before Odessa came along.”
“Isn’t his name Dallas?” He scratched his chin with a frown.
I shrugged. “That’s what I said. San Antonio. Amarillo. Arlington. They’re all cities in Texas. What’s the fucking difference?”
Oli grumbled something, and I caught the words “frustrating” and “confusing asshole.”
I laughed and shoved myself to my feet. “All right, I need to head out. Get laid. Drink my woes away. Something like that. Can you handle closing this place down?”
He blinked at me and cocked his head. “I’m only on the schedule until six thirty. It’s six thirtynow. Are you going to pay me extra?”
I rolled my eyes. “You push a hard bargain, kid, but sure, I’ll pay you the extra.”
