Spicy Sugar

A Crime Never Committed

Ro's POV:

Domingos really had a busy night today. I. Am. Beat. Just glad my shift is finally over, and I'm able to relax down at the Boiler Room. Rounding the corner I saw a young woman kneeling on the floor beside a badly beaten up guy. Guess someone wanted to play tough guy for his girl. Around these parts you better watch out whom you anger. I knew neither of them, so I just gave the girl a sympathetic smile as I passed them and went inside. I immediately spotted a face that was seldom here.

Andrei was sitting at the bar. The counter besides him was stacked with about seven beer glasses and the ashtray was spilling over completely. His normally immaculate clothes were disheveled, and his button up had a slight rip on one arm. I looked over my shoulder to the door the injured guy was laying behind. You really didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out.

As I slid onto the barstool beside him with a smile as he was just about to light a new cigarette, "Feeling better now handsome?"

"Define better." he said while taking his first drag and resting his hand on his leg.

I smirked and pulled the cigarette from him to take a drag from it, "Being drunk, taking your anger out on some random boy, plastering your lungs with tar."

He simply shrugged, "The boy got on my nerves. But if that's your definition of feeling good ... I'm getting there."

"You never struck me as a man to have a bad day just because he was forced to brawl." I remarked.

He sat there in silence for a moment, took a large gulp from his eighth beer and lit another smoke. The whole time he never even bothered to look towards me, which is his loss mainly since I'm smoking hot tonight in my tight, black stripper attire and the dark red leather jacket.

When he blew the smoke towards the ceiling he began speaking again, "Guess you still remember our little wild night with the Rastas."

I smiled and began twirling my hair with one finger, "Oh, I hope to never forget that little topless show of yours."

"It stressed out Briar and made her worried about me to a point where it affected her physically." he explained, and I rested a hand on his thigh.

"I'm sorry to hear. Is she well?" I asked him, hoping he would finally react to the physical contact.

"Her baby came early. That wasn't pretty." he said still not acknowledging me.

My face fell at this point and I leaned against the counter running one hand through the dirty blonde locks falling over my shoulders, "Fuck!"

Silence again. No wonder he was so damn mad. He probably blamed himself for all of this. I mean it was likely kind of true, but he could not have imagined that outcome. Who could have?

"Fuck indeed." He broke the silence and took another long sip from his beer, "And to top it all off I was presented with my stuff neatly packed into two suitcases on my return, and the info she doesn't want to see me again."

"You didn't even get to talk, huh?" I asked and rested my head on my hand looking at him.

He turned to me for the first time and raised an eyebrow, "You really think I would let anything stop me to see her in that situation?"

I shook my head, and he continued, "Wasn't the most fruitful talk. I explained a lot of what happened over the past months, or at least tried to, but it didn't help my case. She thought it was the most ridiculous and crazy stuff she ever heard and sent me away."

Blowing another puff of smoke to the ceiling he went on, "So now I'm basically without a job, without a home and the love of my life wants to not see me again. Means I also won't be seeing my dog anytime soon, which is a shame since I started to like the little rascal."