On the Rocks (Kingston Brothers Book 1)

by Isabel Lucero

  I bought him before I moved into this place, thinking it would be nice to have some company, but turns out Pennywise likes to keep to himself.

  I pop a piece of bread in the toaster and grab the peanut butter out of the pantry. While I wait for the toast to be ready, I eat a banana and take a bottle of water from the fridge. After taking a couple Excedrin, I sit at the island and eat my light breakfast while I scroll through my social media accounts. I laugh at Midge’s update about never drinking again, because I know she’s full of shit. We’ll be back at it next week. I make a mental note to text her later to check in about what went on with her and the baby face guy.

  It’s a little after twelve when I step outside and into the sun. It’s already hot, and I know by the time I get done with the run, it’ll be even hotter. Oh well, serves me right. I put my earbuds in and do some stretches in front of my duplex. My neighbor, Ms. Nordine, waves at me from her small porch, then goes back to her reading.

  I take my usual route, ignoring everything around me, and go inside my head to decipher thoughts that have been bothering me lately. First off, last night after Hunter came and picked me up, I was upset that he didn’t even try to stay to have a drink or just hang out with me and my friends. I don’t feel like I’m being irrational, considering we’ve been together for a year, and he’s never taken it upon himself to get to know the people who mean the most to me. Instead, he’d rather it just be me and him on his own terms, or to hang out with his friends. His friends, who if I’m being honest, are the most boring people I’ve ever met, and I work at a bank.

  Secondly, he refused to stay at my place last night, even though it was late. He said he didn’t want to be with me while I was in a drunken state. I wasn’t stumbling and puking or anything. If anything, I was just drunk enough to give him some pretty kinky sex if he wanted, but of course, that’s another issue. Hunter, as nice and sweet as he is, is also pretty simple when it comes to sex. Maybe he hasn’t had much experience, but he’s definitely okay with sticking to the missionary position. Bor…ing.

  The fact that I’ve started to internally criticize him worries me. I feel like for the past six months, I’ve gone out of my way to defend him to Midge, who hasn’t hidden the fact that she thinks he’s “mind-numbingly dull.” And perhaps I’ve been trying to convince myself that he’s this spectacular person, when in reality, he’s just what I’m used to.

  And then there’s Royce. The exact opposite of Hunter. He’s more laid back, funny, outgoing, willing to drink and have a good time, flirtatious, and based on some whispers through town, not very vanilla.

  Nearly thirty minutes later I’m beginning my trip back home, and make sure there are no children playing with their toys as I run past the shops.

  Right before I’m about to leave the downtown district, I spot a familiar face sitting at one of the tables outside a sandwich shop. One long leg is outstretched as he sits back in the black, wrought-iron chair. Oh, and he’s shirtless. I can see rivulets of sweat dripping from his neck, down his chest and abs. He gulps down a bottle of water and then uses his forearm to wipe sweat from his forehead. Royce’s gaze travels up and down my body, and it’s only when he grins that I realize I’m running in place instead of making the turn to go home.

  “Hey, Sunshine,” he greets, putting the bottle on the table. “Running a little late today, huh?”

  I yank my eyes away from his naked torso and meet his gaze. “A little. Why? You’ve been waiting for me?”

  He shrugs with one shoulder. “Maybe, but I also got quite the run in. Care to join me? I have water.”

  I am thirsty as fuck, and I mean that literally, not thirsty for Royce. The sun’s been beating down on me, and the alcohol leftover in my system has me feeling pretty sluggish.

  Royce hands me the water when I approach him, and I almost drink the rest of it. “Sorry,” I say, handing it back to him.

  “It’s fine. Keep it.”

  I drink some more and take a seat in the chair across from him, using the back of my hand to dab at the sweat on my face. “It’s so hot.”

  “How you feelin’ today?”

  “Not as bad as I should, but not as good as I want to be. Fucking alcohol.”

  He laughs. “As long as you had a good time.”

  I shrug. “I did and I didn’t.”

  His brows pinch together briefly, but he doesn’t question what I mean.

  “Oh, fancy seeing you two here,” Midge says, coming up from behind me and sitting in the remaining chair around the table. She has a stupid smile on her face, like she caught us doing something wrong.

  I shoot her a look. “Just taking a break from my run.”

  “Hmm,” she murmurs, still smirking. “Royce, you look…sweaty.”

  “That’s usually what happens to the body when you’re in the sun and run for almost two hours,” he quips.

  “Eww. Who runs for two hours?”

  “I was waiting for someone, but she was late.”

  He winks at me before reaching over and taking his bottle back, swallowing a mouthful. I want to drown myself in that bottle, because out of my peripherals, I see Midge dramatically turn in her chair and look at me.

  “Is that right?”

  “He’s a crazy stalker,” I say, playing it off.

  “Hardly,” he responds. “I was merely hoping I’d run into you again. Work on that friendship we talked about last time.”

  I turn my head just a bit and cut my eyes at him, then I grab the bottle from his hand and bring it to my lips. “You really want to be my friend?”

  “Why? Can you only have so many? Midge, you’re out,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder while looking at Midge.

  She scoffs. “Yeah right. I’m permanent, baby.”

  “Speaking of baby,” I say, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “What happened with you and the baby face last night?”

  Midge looks toward the sky and then stares at Royce like she’s expecting him to leave.

  “What? I’m a friend now. You can tell us. What happened?” he says with a grin.

  Midge rolls her eyes, but focuses on me. “Well, first of all, tequila happened. Why did you let me take so many shots?”

  “Me?” I squeak. “You basically forced them down my throat.” I hear Royce cough, but we both ignore him. “And you tried forcing me to lick Royce’s neck!”

  “I don’t remember that,” she says, but I can tell she’s lying based on the tiniest lift of her lips. “Plus, I’m sure Royce took a shower. It’s all in good fun.”

  “Royce is right here,” he says, pointing to himself. “And I can assure you I take regular showers.”

  Midge and I glance at him before facing each other again. “Anyway, I guess I thought he was cute. I mean, he is, but not really my usual type. I sobered up this morning and found him on my couch. Apparently, I kicked him out of the bed last night.”

  I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. “So, how was it?”

  Royce leans in, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers.

  “Well, it was a decent size. Nothing to complain about there, but he was definitely inexperienced. He kept asking me if I liked it. And not like the rhetorical, do you like it, but I know you like it, because I’m killin’ it type of question. Like, he really wanted to make sure he was doing enough for me to like it. He needed reassurance. Ugh.”

  I glance at Royce as he sits back with a look of horror on his face, but Midge keeps going.

  “I was just like, yeah, yeah, keep going, but he didn’t last that long. I definitely didn’t get mine, and that’s probably why his ass ended up on the couch. He’s lucky I didn’t kick him out on the street.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Oh, Midge. I’m sorry. I tried telling Daniel and Jon you’d regret it, but they were like, ‘life experiences’ blah blah.”

  “I could go without that life experience. I’ve had plenty of bad sex experiences.”

  I nod my head
. “I feel ya.”

  Royce looks back and forth between us a few times before I finally invite him into the conversation.

  “What’s up with you?”

  “You guys talk about us like this? All women talk about their experiences like this?”

  We cackle, falling into each other. “If a woman has a best friend, she definitely tells her about these things. We have to tell someone!” I say with a laugh.

  His eyes dart around, like he’s trying to figure something out.

  “Yes, we’ve heard things about you, Mr. Kingston,” Midge volunteers. “You’ve been with your fair share of women in this town, and you better believe they’ve told their friends. Your business is all up in these streets.”

  He stares at us, looking fearful. “Good things or bad things?”

  Midge shrugs and I give him a look to make him think he should be worried. Truth is, he doesn’t have anything to worry about, but there’s no need to stroke his ego. Plus, this is more fun.

  “Girl talk is scary,” he says.

  Midge laughs. “Well, anyway, I’m about to head to Nae’s to get some coffee. I’ll text ya later, Lo. Royce, I’ll see ya when I see ya. You two kids have fun.”

  “What do you do for fun?” he questions after Midge leaves.

  I try to think of something, and the truth is, I don’t do much. I have drinks with Midge, but it’s not like I’m always getting drunk and having a good time. Most of the time I’m responsible, and I wouldn’t say that’s something I do for fun, that’s just something to do. When Hunter wants to hang out, we usually go to a restaurant he really likes and have brunch, and half the time he invites a couple of his friends to join us. That’s not fun.

  “Can’t think of anything?” Royce says, cutting into my thoughts.

  “Well, do you do anything?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh yeah? Care to elaborate?”

  He stands up, putting his abs directly in front of my face. I take a few seconds to enjoy the view before I move my eyes to his face, waiting for him to answer.

  “You’ll find out the next time we talk.”

  “Wow, you’re just gonna leave me hanging like that?”

  He grins. “Yep. Gotta keep you interested, Sunshine.”

  I let out a sigh and watch him as he turns around and walks away. Even the muscles in his back are defined. I sit there until he’s out of sight, then I get up and make my way home with even more thoughts in my head than when I left the house.

  On Tuesday night, I decide to get off a little early, since I wasn’t technically needed at the bar at all. I walk down the street toward Cillian’s tattoo shop. It’s two and a half blocks away from my bar, and because most of this town closes down by ten o’clock during the week, the streets are quiet.

  The antique street lamps let off a warm glow, softly lighting the sidewalks that line the road. A couple places are locking up and cleaning their stores. I nod to Victor who’s sweeping his specialty soda shop. If you want a soda with a variety of flavors, Victor’s is the place to go.

  “Hey, Royce,” Doreen says as I pass her and her shop as she locks up. “Early night for you?”

  “I’m off, just heading over to Cillian’s.”

  “Tell him hello.”

  “Will do. Have a good night.”

  Doreen owns The Teacup, and as you can guess, it’s home to all sorts of tea. She’s an older British lady, and on top of selling tea, she sells different kinds of marmalades and biscuits.

  After I walk the two blocks from my bar, I take a left and walk about halfway down before the street gets a little livelier. Not only is my brother’s shop open, with the bright green neon sign illuminating most of the street, but there’s a pool hall open next door, and a convenience store on the other side that crawls with a younger crowd who loiter around the front, smoking and listening to music.

  When I open the door, a bell dings from above and my brother slides back on his chair with a tattoo gun in hand.

  “Oh, hey bro. What’s up?”

  “Not much.” I look around the shop. “Where’s Weston and Bree?”

  “Wes just finished his last piece of the day, and Bree is in the back.”

  “Is that Royce? Come back here, bro.”

  From the front of the store, all I see are a pair of legs laid out across a black chair that’s reclined all the way back, allowing the customer to lay flat.

  “Oh, hey man,” I say, realizing it’s Justin, a guy we’ve been friends with since middle school. “Finally finishing that leg piece up, huh?”

  “Yup! I’ve been busy, and your brother stays booked up. Took me a month to get this appointment.”

  I lean in and inspect the work while still giving Cill his space. It’s a collection of all the horror greats. Freddy, Jason, Michael, and Leatherface.

  “Looks good.”

  Cill scoffs while he wipes some ink off Justin’s leg. “Looks better than good.”

  “No need to make his ego any bigger, though,” I say, giving Justin a wink.

  He laughs. “When you gonna let your brother give you some ink? You got that virgin skin.”

  “Ah, Cill has enough ink for the both of us. Plus, I like denying him the pleasure of marking this beautiful, flawless skin. It drives him crazy.”

  Justin laughs and Cill just shakes his head.

  “So, what brings you down here?” Cill asks.

  “Boredom. I wasn’t really needed at the bar. It’s a slow day, and I didn’t really feel like going home.”

  “You don’t have a chick you can meet up with?” Cill asks, still focused on his work.

  “Yeah, what happened to that Beverly chick?” Justin questions.

  “Beverly? I think I was with her once like four months ago.”

  “Oh,” Justin laughs. “I thought y’all were together.”

  “Royce doesn’t do relationships.”

  “So, you’re a bachelor? I got you, man. You probably have a whole list of people you can call though. I mean, shit, if you don’t, I can give you some names. I just recently started dating a girl, but I got a little black book, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m thinking of turning a leaf, actually,” I say, spinning around in the chair while gazing up at the ceiling. “No more random hook-ups.”

  The buzz of the tattoo gun stops and I see Cillian incline his head and look at me with a grin on his face. “You’re really serious about pursuing London?”

  “London?” Justin muses. “Who’s that?”

  “London Monroe.” Her name falls from my lips on a sigh. “She comes to my bar pretty often.”

  “She’s also in a relationship,” Cill says, going back to work.

  “Oooh shit. You’re a bad man, Royce,” Justin laughs.

  “I’m not coming between them. We haven’t done anything. We’re just friends. However, she has to know there’s someone better suited for her. And that person is me.”

  Cill and Justin laugh.

  “I’ve been trying to tell him he’s playing with fire,” Cill tells Justin. “These love triangle things are no good. Someone gets hurt and I’m afraid it’s gonna be him.”

  “What do you know about love triangles?” I ask with a laugh. “You’ve been with Zoe for a little over a year.”

  Cill just shrugs his shoulders. “All right, man.”

  I wave him off. “Anyway, London is perfect. I’m telling you, she’s meant for me.”

  “Are you meant for her, though? Sometimes the person we love more than anything, doesn’t love us the same way. Sometimes they love someone else the way you love them. It has to go both ways, bro. She may actually really be in love with her boyfriend.”

  “I don’t know why I came here. You depress me.”

  He chuckles. “Speaking the truth, my man. That’s all. Take it or leave it.”

  “Well, I hear it, but I’m still taking a chance. If you don’t take a chance, you’ll never know what could’ve been, and I won’t hav
e any regrets.”

  “Well, then I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  I go back to aimlessly spinning in the chair, letting Cill’s words sink in while he goes back to inking Justin’s skin.

  Cill isn’t just a tattoo artist, he’s an artist artist. The man can draw and paint like nobody’s business. He loves tattooing, though, don’t get me wrong, but his big passion projects are always huge paintings. He’s even sold a few. Lately he seems to be struggling to create anything he feels is worthy of showing anyone.

  “All right, man. We’re done for tonight.”

  I pop my head back up and notice Cill wrapping Justin’s leg in saran wrap.

  “Just one more session?” Justin asks.

  “Yep. One more should do it.”

  They go up front, and Justin pays Cill for his work and says bye to both of us before gingerly walking out the front door. Cillian turns the lock and kills the neon light and then heads back toward me and drops into his chair.

  “Fuck, I’m tired,” he says on a sigh, running his hands through his hair.

  “You gettin’ any sleep? Or are you up all night painting?”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “I could probably use more sleep.”

  “What’re you working on now? Is it almost done?”

  He scoffs. “I’ve been working on it for months now, and I’m not sure if I want to keep going or throw a whole bucket of black paint on it.”

  “You sound stressed. What’s goin’ on?”

  “Ah, nothing really. I’m probably just in my head too much. I’ll be fine. I just…I don’t know.” He stops talking and closes his eyes, leaning back in the chair. I haven’t seen him like this before. Sure, he’s gotten worked up over his art, but not like this. Something is happening, because Cill is usually a pretty happy-go-lucky guy. Nothing really gets to him. I don’t bother questioning him further, because I know I won’t get anywhere.

  “Well,” I say, looking at my watch, “I guess I’ll get out of your hair so you can close up and do what you need to do. Need any help?”

  He shakes his head, getting up. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

  We raise our hands up and pound fists before I leave and walk back to my bar.