"Empty." Alice turned back to him as soon as she stepped through the door. "The bull said they'd be here but they're not."
Miles could hear her teeth gritting, impatience coloring her tone. He remained silent as he slipped through the double doors.
Sconces that lined opposite walls streamed neon lights down to the floor. Small round tables were scattered across the room, the purple table cloths draped over them.
The fragrance of expensive perfumes slipped through the air. It subtly reminded him that he was in foreign territory.
Alicia's.
Miles walked across the room where there was a vending machine. After which, he got himself a coke.
His tongue itched for the nutty taste of coffee. He ignored the craving. He walked back to where Alice was seated, tapping the table.
At that moment, the door swung open again.
The resulting creak was overshadowed by the hum of music that streamed out of the speakers that lined the intersection between the ceiling and walls.
Miles was punched with the smell of alcohol.
Intoxicating.
Suffocating.
Invisible hands squeezed his neck. Each nail dug deeper than the last. The heat in his chest spiked. He leaned against the vending machine, forcing himself to breathe.
To steady his trembling frame.
He blinked, swallowing.
Keep yourself together.
Despite the silent mantra, he couldn't block it.The crack of the belt. The thud of the curtains as they dropped, as with his niceties for the night.
The frothing liquid that seeped from his bleached skin. That hit the floor with a haunting tune.
Tap. Tap. A companion that congealed him with the rusty scent of blood.
Miles blinked the images away. Yet, he almost felt the blood beneath his scars foaming.
Waiting to spill.
They were four in number, wearing the same suit that he found in Andrew's closet. They all looked tired, their ties loosened just a bit, eyes droopy.
Except the man with the alcohol.
Miles' nails dug into his palm. The smell made the air to be thick like honey, syrupy even. Every inhale burnt his lungs. A whimper formed a lump in his throat.
Miles pushed himself off the vending machine.
One. Two.
His steps were heavy as if his bones had become steel. And it almost dragged to the floor.
Like the way he had pushed him to the ground with his alcohol filled breath fanning his face.
"I think that's our cue." He heard Alice say as soon as he reached her.
He clenched his fists then unclenched them again.
The fourth man that followed close behind the other two men that held up the drunk was visibly taut. As the other two sat down, a table away from theirs, he was slow to follow through. He looked up and noticed Miles' staring.
He immediately averted his eyes. And all through it all, he was rubbing his collarbone.
Strange.
His muscles coiled tight as the scent piqued. Clogging the air, cloying to his skin. The hairs on his arm stood. He unscrewed the coke and drank, expertly tilting it to the right while pressing a napkin to his mouth.
A wail pierced through the air and the drunk man began to weep.
His grip tightened.
How many had he caused to cry exactly like this?
"Life's so draining. When does it end?"
His wet words grated against Miles' ears, like chains dragging against concrete.
"Relax, alright? Everything will be fine." One with long blonde hair commented, tapping the man's shoulder.
The other with greasy brown hair snorted. "Yeah right, not unless they find you with this bottle of alcohol."
"Yo!" Alice hollered from their seat, deepening her voice. The waiters turned to her with furrowed brows. She pushed the shades up the bridge of her nose.
"You guys look tired as heck. Long night, huh?"
"What's it to you?" The man with greasy brown hair shot back.
Alice shrugged with a playful smile. "I didn't think it was a crime to ask how y'all are doing."
The one with the long blonde hair intervened. "Don't mind him, he can be quite aggressive at times. I'm Steven by the way, this is Bryan," he pointed at the man with brown greasy hair.
"This is Dylan." He motioned to the drunk that was muttering words to himself.
"And this is Dominic." He motioned to the man still rubbing his collarbone.
Dominic tensed. He averted his eyes and Miles didn't fail to notice the trembling fingers he jammed into his pockets. Dominic took a few glances at the door with longing eyes.
He wanted out, but why?
"Well, fancy meeting you. I'm Megan. Bodyguard as you can see." She motioned to the fake IDs hanging off of her jacket.
"This is my partner, Lotus." Alice took it as her cue to knock Miles hard on his shoulder.
He only managed not to roll his eyes. His right eye anyway.
"Anyway, I saw how hard y'all worked. Must've been difficult having to deal with such a task. You must make a great team."
Steven smiled, although it was a bit strained. "Yeah, we do."
Alice tilted her head, counting them with her finger. "Are y'all this number though? I mean, four of you having to cater to such a sophisticated group wouldn't be easy on you."
Bryan snorted. "Yeah right. I'd have gone crazy if I were the only one those fat cats were breathing down my neck."
Steven slapped the back of Bryan's neck to which Bryan grumbled.
Steven smiled at them again. "What he actually meant to say is that, it would be quite a handful. More than a handful actually, that's why we have many hands on deck to make sure it's a success. Week in, week out."
"That's wonderful. You know a friend of mine asked about this particular waiter that she's wanted to meet for a while now. Andrew, is it?"
Steven's eyes lit up. " Oh Andrew. We know him. He's quite the worker. Very efficient."
Knew him, you mean.
Miles made sure to raise the roadblock in his mind.
Dominic stiffened visibly and his dark skin paled. His glances at the door became more frequent as with rubbing his collarbone.
Miles sought to fish his notebook out of his pocket but decided against it.
"Well, I'd like to see him then. Could you call him over for me? I'd like to meet him."
"Sure-"
"Yeah right, Andrew isn't around. The workaholic decided to call it quits on us tonight. How laughable."
Steven face palmed himself. Alice was about to say something else when Steve raised his hand to his ear, bringing the earpiece in his ear to Miles' notice.
"Yeah, we'll be there." Steven's smile suddenly became brighter.
"Bryan, we're needed upstairs."
"Of course, the fat cats can't do anything with their fragile little lives. What a waste of space."
Steven ignored the grumble and turned to them, nodding at Alice then Miles. "I'm sorry for the abrupt conclusion, I'd be sure to deliver your message as soon as I see him. Do enjoy your evening."
Steven and Bryan walked out of the lounge.
Dominic shot up almost immediately as if catching the chance to escape.
Miles grabbed him as he passed by them. Not too tight. Relaxed even. Yet, Dominic trembled.
Dominic's eyes widened and he swallowed visibly.
"I'm sorry, this mes-sage we're trying to deliver to Andrew is ra-ther urgent. We'd really like to see him. Do you have any idea where?"
"No idea." His voice broke, straining as he gave Miles a very weak smile. At
Miles released him and he looked about ready to run away when Alice sighed, faking concern.
"I hope nothing bad happened though."
Dominic visibly stiffened and this time, he actually ran out. Almost as if someone were hot on his tails.
What was he hiding?
Was he involved in Andrew's death?
"Don't mind him. Dude's a los'r," the drunk waiter slurred from where he sat on the chair. His tie was undone, his suit draped on the chair beside him. His shirt was stained.His green eyes glazed in and out of focus before he ran a hand through his messy blonde hair.
Miles' jaw tightened
Despicable.
His bulging belly was more pronounced in his slouched position. Miles tried to take another sip of his drink but it was bitter in his mouth. Acrid, even.
"Biggest weirdo on the squad. I said squad." The man laughed, hiccuping in between.
Miles' world blanched. Bit by bit. He could almost hear it. The laugh that made his heart still. The cackle that tore down his walls, his farce of courage.
The one that filled the dead silence before Miles' screams would follow.
"He and Andrew were close?" Alice prodded him, shifting closer not at all flinching at the man's drunken stupor. Unlike Miles.
After all these years, you still haven't gotten over it. Move on.
"Yeah, very close. They're a weird combination, you know? Like apple and cider." Dylan took another gulp again. He looked as though the bottle would fall to the floor and break into a million pieces.
The shattering of glass crackled in Miles' ear.
"Kinda..... reminds... Yeah, reminds me of the time I mix'd soy sauce with ice cream." He inhaled sharply, his eyes clouding over.
"With my kids. That was last week, before Helen left with them. She said I ain't responsible." His voice cracked now, a tear slipping down his cheek.
His nostrils suddenly flared. "I'll show her." Dylan took another gulp of the alcohol. He coughed, his shoulders shaking so much that he had to lean against the table.
Miles felt the steam spread underneath his skin, making it burn. He forced his hands to still, biting down on the right side of his lips. He held onto the table.
Dylan tried to stand but he fell back on his seat, struggling to sit up. Alice helped him up, patting his shoulder gently.
"You said Andrew and Dominic were friends in all the wrong ways?"
"Did I? Don't rem'mber." He tilted his back.
"But, Andrew som'thing yeah. Glad he isn't here." Dylan's lips curled, his eyes glazing over.
"Really? Thought you all thought highly of him."
Dylan snickered though it sounded slightly unbalanced as he adjusted his seating position.
"As if? Thinks he's so high and mighty cause he fine. He proud too, always the one serving Alicia herself."
Miles and Alicia traded a look.
Was Alicia somehow involved then?
Dylan gripped the bottle tighter, his lips quivering. "Maybe he the kind of man Helen would want."
He began to laugh. A loud chortle that carried through the silence. The air turned to steel around Miles, wearing away his skin like he did.
"Yo...u kn'w last week, Andrew," Dylan began to cough so loudly that it felt his innards were tearing apart. His shoulders shook and Alice massaged to somehow relieve him of the pain.
"Andrew what? " Alice urged.
He rose from his stooped poised, his smile becoming lopsided. "Oh, he angry. Very angry."
"Why?"
"Cause-" his brows scrunched, his forehead wrinkling. "Don't know."
He cackled again. Alice looked like she was ready to face palm herself but her smile became easy and light.
"Should've left first then no one woulda thought they got right to leave me." His slurred words were already melting together, even though they still carried heat. There was a small pause, the silence shrouding every single one of them.
The silence was broken by the song, Heartbeat Echo by Lina Carry, that now played from the speakers.
Alice turned away when he looked like he was about to fall unconscious. Then he spoke again.
"They always playing this song every dinner. Hate the sound of it." Heat colored his voice even though his eyes were already closing.
"Don't know why anyone like the sound of the garbage. But of course Andrew like 'em. Everything Alicia says, Andrew behind it. He like her puppet." He turned in his chair, his hands lying, limp, at his sides before groaning.
"When.... I die, is ....the sky blue? Hope it blue, remind me of Helen."
Miles shot up, suddenly remembering,
"Where does Dominic live?" Miles failed to keep the edge from his voice.
"Dominic? Who that, man?" Dylan's brows furrowed.
"The wei-rd one? In the squ-ad?"
Dylan didn't stir and after a moment of silence, Miles let out a frustrated sigh.
"Block A, apartment 10. Downglen district." After that Dylan fell to the ground, a dull thud echoing.
"That settles it, we got what we needed, let's bounce."
Alice had started walking away.
Instead of following her, he helped the man up, closing off his senses. Closing his mind to the blood that pounded, his ears ringing. He placed him on the chair, making sure he was seated properly.
Dylan's head bobbed to the side.
Miles noticed how deep the bags underneath his eyes actually were, like large shadows that pulled down his eyelids. His eyes were puffy, his lips chapped.
There was a darkness that hung over his face that made Miles heart twist.
"Don't leave, Helen." Miles noticed the ring on one of his fingers. A plain silver wedding ring.
One that no longer held a promise of family and love.
But a reminder of brokenness.
His gut churned.
"I'll make it right." Dylan's mutter broke at the end.
Miles' insides turned and the air became thicker around him, sheets of ice creeping along his arms and legs.
He could almost hear his father. See him, sprawled on the couch. On the days that his drinking only produced woeful songs. Songs of a lost soul. Of a lost world.
"Bella." He had whispered, with tears brimming his dark, unfocused eyes.
And here, Miles couldn't mistake it, mistake the image of him.
Miles suddenly found it difficult to breathe.
Yet the image was not a violent one. Without the shouting or the screaming. Without the drunken songs. Without the thirst for blood.
But, it was vulnerable, exposed.
Bare.
A chord struck within him. His chest fluttered but not in a good way. It was lightheadedness, one that he couldn't explain. Lightness that made his head spin.
Made him long for coffee. Long for coffee that would pull him out of a new light. Out of the absurd moment, he was breathing and living in.
Where he had the smallest slither of pity. For the drunk, lonely man. For the drunk that held onto careless hope.
For the replica of his father.
He didn't know which was stronger, the tiniest pint of pity or the storms of disgust.
Either way, he knew he wanted to hurl.