King's Barber

by M. D. Gregory

  “I am still here, you know.” Luke held out his arms, a silly grin on his face as he stared between us. “I think this is the kind of conversation you should have behind my back.”

  “Nonsense. I like you seeing how much you annoy me.” I patted him on the shoulder then frowned at my hand. “At least take an actual shower before getting into KC’s boxers. I’m going upstairs to have a bath of my own.”

  “How about I just join you?” Luke waggled his eyebrows, that dimple in his chin dipping even farther.

  KC made a disgusted noise, his nose crinkling. “That’s gross.”

  I shook my head. “You two figure it out by yourselves.” Waving my hand between them, I headed toward the stairs, which were past the bathroom Luke had changed in earlier. “Have a good night!”

  I laughed when KC let out a sigh. I loved torturing him in the kindest ways possible, and I gave Luke ten minutes before he annoyed KC.

  Or maybe five.

  Chuckling harder, I made my way up the stairs.

  3

  Barber

  After we spent half an hour conversing about my bike and what it needed for repairs, we ate a quick dinner of Chinese takeout. Quain came down to join us and then made his way upstairs again after he’d thrown all the garbage away. I went to the shower with a set of KC’s boxers and a plain T-shirt. He wasn’t impressed with me having to wear his shorts, but he didn’t say anything about it after Quain left. After a shower to wash off the grime of the day and a shave with a disposable razor, I met KC in the living room again.

  He took me up the same stairs I assumed Quain had gone up, which were made from a dark wood that gleamed under the track-and-rail lighting attached to the high ceiling, then led me to what he referred to as the guest bedroom. The space was massive, with a king-sized bed in the middle of the wide room decorated in blues. Two picture windows that looked out into the side yard were joined together on the far wall. Down below was a lawn swing with a table set up not far from it, just visible under the bright moon half hidden by the disappearing storm clouds—it looked to be a sitting area, and it wasn’t anything I’d seen outside of movies. The grass and outside furniture gleamed from the wetness the rain had left behind.

  “My room is downstairs, past the living room. You need to walk by the office to get to me. Pa’s closer, though. He’s just through there.” KC pointed down the short hallway, and I came to check it out. The door he pointed at was past the entrance to the stairs and down a short corridor. “He’s cranky if he doesn’t get his beauty sleep, so I wouldn’t interrupt him unless it’s an emergency. He likes to tell me I’d better be dying if I’m annoying him while he’s trying to sleep. I’m his son. I can get away with it, but I think you’d die if you interrupt him.”

  I laughed at the joke, and KC raised his eyebrows. I wondered if he was serious but shook away the thoughts. Quain couldn’t hurt a fly.

  “All right then, have a good night’s sleep.” KC gave me a half salute before he nearly ran down the U-shaped stairs. I watched him until he disappeared and then stepped into the guest room. It really was huge, a dream come true. My bedroom at home was at least a quarter of this size and could only fit a single bed and wardrobe. I’d been happy enough with the size, though, especially after I’d packed my bags and took off from LA; Uncle Errol’s home was ten times better than living with my father. But not even the room in LA had been anywhere near the size of this—and this one was still only for a guest.

  I threw myself on the bed face-first and bounced before I rolled over. The mattress was a lot firmer than I was used to, but it felt fucking amazing. I was going to get good sleep tonight. I chuckled and stretched out my toes. Ah, just perfect.

  I checked the time through the broken glass of my phone—10:04 p.m. I considered myself more of a night owl and went to sleep a lot later than this, but I didn’t mind hitting the hay, not when I had a nice place to do it. I needed to piss first, though.

  Getting back to my feet, I walked out into the hallway and glanced in the direction KC had told me Quain’s bedroom was, to the other end. I supposed the bathroom wasn’t near Quain’s bedroom, so I strolled the other way. I opened one door, but it was another bedroom, and farther down was another sitting area, which had a glassed-in railing and looked over into the living room. To the right of that was another bedroom. Fuck me, how many rooms did this house have?

  Finally I found one by walking through the closet of a guest bedroom and took a much-needed piss. I had a feeling my room had something like this and I’d missed it. Shaking my head, I made my way back around the hallway but paused before I got to my door. The sound of murmuring came from Quain’s room and I found myself curious. I shifted closer to his door and pressed my ear to it. I heard nothing for a moment and then Quain was muttering something.

  Apparently I had a death wish because I turned the doorknob, sneaking into the room. It was dark, but much to my surprise, the moonlight sparkled through three walls, which were made of glass. Fucking glass. Definitely not something I’d seen outside of a movie. Fuck me, I’d never imagined a bedroom needing glass walls, but at least it had long black curtains hanging in the corners, so if he needed privacy, all he’d have to do was drag them across.

  Stepping in farther, my toes sinking into the soft carpeted floor, I frowned at the bed where Quain was currently curled up against his pillow. Maybe I’d been hearing things, at least, I thought so, until Quain said something quietly but still not audible. Was he sleep talking?

  I grinned at the thought. Now this would be fun to use against him. The next time he whined about me smoking weed out back, I could bring up the time he sleep talked. Sneaking closer, I leaned my knee into the side of the bed and shifted forward.

  “The ants are stealing my coffee. Arrest them, get little handcuffs for them.” It was a quiet whisper, but I’d fucking heard every single word from his mouth.

  Eyes widening, I smirked.

  Well, well, well.

  “Where do I find the handcuffs?” I whispered, pressing my lips together to stop myself from laughing.

  Everything happened so quickly I didn’t have time to react. One second I was beside Quain, trying not to chuckle, then I was grabbed by the collar of my shirt, tugged, and slammed against the bed with a comfortable—or uncomfortable, depending on how you looked at it—weight on my crotch. Something sharp pressed against my throat. I gasped, acutely aware of the enticing burn of a knife kissing my jugular.

  Quain was death personified, his hair an untidy mess, eyes hooded with sleep—but also as sharp as the blade he held in his hand—and all of this under the glinting moonlight. The sight of him alone was enough to have my dick pressing against his ass in a big hello, but with the knife, too, I was ready to bust a nut right there in KC’s boxers. I didn’t think Quain’s son would appreciate that, though.

  “What are you doing?” Quain snapped, his eyes widening as he stared down at me.

  “Hi.” I jiggled my eyebrows at him. “That’s a pretty knife you got there.”

  “I could have killed you,” he growled out, dropping the knife onto the pillow next to me. I noticed he didn’t move, however, and with no restraints other than boxers, my dick was pressed comfortably between Quain’s asscheeks, very close to his hole.

  “I don’t believe that.” I laughed. “Trust me, I’ve nearly been killed before, and you don’t qualify as a killer. I might have doubts about KC, but you? Nah, you’re like a puppy. All growl and no bite.”

  “Fucking hell, Luke!” he snapped and finally threw himself off me and the bed. He stood, letting out deep, irritated breaths as he placed the knife on the bedside cabinet. Spinning on me, he waved his hands. “What did you think you were doing? KC should have warned you not to come into my room. How did you think that was a good idea?”

  I shoved myself to my elbows and shrugged. “You were sleep talking, and I was curious.”

  Quain’s eyebrows dipped. “I don’t sleep talk.”

  I
snorted in amusement. “You definitely do. Something about ants stealing your coffee.”

  “What?” He narrowed his eyes on me and threw his arm in the direction of the door. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

  “Aw. What? No kiss good night?”

  “Get out!”

  I boomed out a laugh and rolled off the bed. Giving him a flirtatious wink, I sauntered out of the room. When I turned to say good night, the door was slammed in my face. Feisty. At least I could bring up the sleep talking thing now. I could already imagine how much he’d blush over it.

  Laughing to myself, I went back to my room. I could go to sleep with a huge smile on my face.

  “What did you do to my pa?” KC narrowed his eyes on me from behind the wheel of the truck he drove. He switched between glaring at me to watching the road in front of him.

  The morning had been interesting. I’d woken up to a breakfast that left my gut satisfied in ways it hadn’t been in a long time. I’d never expected Quain could cook, thought maybe he’d have a few chefs on hand with the looks of the house, but I’d found him in front of the stovetop making the best meal I’d ever tasted. Not without sending me scowls every few minutes, of course. I’d sat at the island with a smug smile.

  Quain didn’t say much during breakfast, but I felt every dagger he threw at me with his eyes. He wanted to kill me. KC had obviously picked up on it as well.

  I grinned at him and shrugged my shoulders. “I heard him sleep talking last night.”

  KC’s cheeks turned red and he narrowed his eyes on the road. “Please tell me you didn’t go into his room. I specifically told you not to.”

  “He was sleep talking,” I repeated.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t sleep kill you,” KC muttered loud enough for me to hear—barely.

  “Has he always talked like that?” I leaned back in the seat and stared out the window. The truck wasn’t as nice as the BMW, but it wasn’t anywhere near the piece of junk Uncle Errol had, either. Nice enough for a seventeen-year-old, and definitely better than anything I’d had at his age. Actually, I didn’t have a vehicle at all.

  “In his sleep?” KC’s knuckles turned white and he sighed. “Yeah, I guess so. Ever since I moved in with him.”

  “Yeah, he said you were pickpocketing him. How the fuck does that happen?”

  He squinted at me. “What makes you think it’s any of your business?”

  I snorted. “It’s not, but I’m interested anyway.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t want to share my story with a stranger.”

  “But I’m not a stranger. I work next to your dad.”

  KC shook his head and took the exit that led into the southern parts of New Gothenburg. He took a few more lefts and rights and then we were on an asphalt road with bigger holes than the Courtesan had. At least the ones at the hotel were tight.

  “He hates you,” KC said deadpan, not taking his eyes off the road.

  I chuckled. “Hate is such a strong word.”

  “If you say so.” He stopped in front of a house and put the truck into Park.

  Leaning forward, I checked out our surroundings. We’d stopped in front of a small pastel green bungalow, but it wasn’t one of those pretty kinds from brochures that made you wish you lived by a beach. The paint was peeling, some of the windows were cracked—spiraling out like spiderwebs—and the front yard was overgrown with grass and weeds, making the house barely visible. I was surprised someone hadn’t been called about it. It looked worse than Uncle Errol’s house.

  “This is the place?” I raised my eyebrows at KC and reached into my jacket, checking my trusty Ruger was there.

  KC sent me a smug grin. “Is the King scared?”

  Snorting, I threw open the door and jumped out. “Fuck off, kid. I’m just wondering if I’ll have to protect your ass. I don’t want Papa Bear trying to throw me in prison if you get your face blown off.”

  “Fuck, Pa is right. You’re dramatic.”

  “Me dramatic?” I laughed. “You haven’t seen your dad at work. Always bitching about something.”

  KC shook his head and hopped out his door, coming around the truck. He really was a big guy, and the white Henley stretched across his chest and thick arms showed off just how wide he was. The hat he wore backward hid his red hair, but I guess it gave him a gangster appearance. I wondered if he’d done it on purpose or if he actually liked wearing those kinds of clothes. He trudged along the stone path toward the front door, the only part of the yard that wasn’t covered in waist-high grass and weeds. I followed him, frowning at one of the windows when someone peeped out between the curtains. KC was big enough to take care of himself, but he was still a kid as far as I was concerned, so when he knocked on the door, I shoved him aside and stood in front.

  He frowned, but didn’t say a word, until someone yanked open the door and a young man stuck his head out, glaring. Acne scars covered his face and his russet hair was a rat’s nest, as though he hadn’t brushed it in months. A skull tattoo covered his neck, filled in with black ink, and the bad design had me wincing. PD definitely hadn’t done this one. “Who da fuck are you?”

  KC pushed at my shoulder, moving me out of the way so this deadbeat could see him. “Hey, Muzz.”

  Muzz grinned at KC. “Hey, Giant. I didn’t know it was you. Who’s the elder?”

  “Elder?” I glared at the little fucker. “I’m not a fucking elder, you piece of shit.”

  KC rolled his eyes, and then he and Muzz did this strange handshake I didn’t understand. Was that a teenage thing? Crap, maybe I was getting old.

  “You here for the Ducati starter?” Muzz asked, raising his arm to run his hand through his hair. The stench that came from his armpit made me want to puke. I might drink myself into a stupor sometimes and puff some weed and all that shit, but at least I showered. I wasn’t sure I could say the same for this guy.

  “Yeah, you got it?”

  Muzz waved us into the house. “Out back.”

  I shook my head and followed KC into the house, which actually looked a lot better than the outside. I’d imagined the floor being covered in feces with the way this guy looked, but the wooden floorboards were clean, not even a piece of dirt in sight, and while the furniture was obviously secondhand, everything was kept in good condition. The only thing I could see out of place were some scratch marks on the back of the sofa.

  Fuck. I hoped he didn’t have a cat. I hated cats.

  He led us through the house to the back door, which opened out into the yard behind the house, and to my surprise it was as neat as Quain’s. The grass out here was mowed, the bushes freshly cut, and the aluminum garage was wide—big enough to fit at least four cars. It had a padlock on the front door, and Muzz stalked over to it, putting in a four-digit code before he yanked open the lock.

  KC smirked at me. “I didn’t say where he got the parts. It doesn’t matter. It’s cheap.”

  “And stolen?” I crossed my arms. Not that I gave a shit.

  “Maybe.”

  “Is the front yard a ruse, then?”

  “Keeps the Goody Two-shoes away. They’re too scared to come anywhere near this house. Muzz is a good guy, though, he just… obtains his parts in different ways.” KC shrugged his massive shoulders and made his way into the garage when Muzz gestured him forward.

  Muzz didn’t have much to say to me during the exchange. He preferred to talk to KC, and I was okay with that. The two teens spoke in a completely different language, or at least it felt like it, until they started talking bike speak. Then I understood them.

  By the time they were done, KC paid the money we’d stopped at an ATM to get, and Muzz gave us the starter. Once he’d handed it over, he narrowed his ice blue eyes on me in thought.

  “You’re a King, right?”

  I crossed my arms, ready for a fight. Hell, I’d even take on a teenager if I needed to. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Cool. If the Kings need any genuine parts, you know where to find me now.
Get KC to give you my number. I do great deals.” He patted my shoulder on the way past, and I snorted, watching him nearly skip into the house.

  “You said he was your friend?”

  KC shrugged. “I go to school with him. Used to. I think he dropped out. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He led me around the side of the house and through the long grass. I hated the idea of walking through what was potentially a tick-and-spider-infested habitat, but we managed to get to the other side without a bite or any buggy passengers.

  When we were back in the truck, KC handed me the part. “It’s nearly new. It’ll last you a while.”

  “Better be, kid.” I sent him a grin to tell him I was just messing with him. KC knew what he was talking about, and I trusted him, even if I hadn’t known him for a full twenty-four hours yet. “So, tell me about your pa.”

  KC started the truck and it rumbled to life before he turned a narrowed look on me. “Why do you want to know about him?”

  “Maybe I’m curious.”

  He grunted and turned to look at the street behind him and then pulled out onto the road. His hands tightened around the steering wheel again. He reached over to turn on the radio—old-fashioned tech with a CD player. I bet this truck didn’t have Bluetooth. I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but when he took a few more turns and got onto the highway, he glanced at me.

  “There’s nothing to tell that you can’t ask him yourself. He’s a hairstylist, which you know, and he enjoys his job.”

  “And he adopted you.” I leaned back in my seat and kicked my boots off, throwing my feet onto the dashboard.

  He glared at my socked feet but returned his attention to the road. “You know everything you need to.”

  “Come on, give me something.”

  “So you can use it against him? Fuck off.”

  I tutted at him in the same way my mom used to do to me when I swore. “Language.”

  He grunted out a laugh. “He comes home and has a lot to say about you. Weed in the back alley, really? It might be legal, but you can still get your ass a fine for smoking it in a workplace.”