Jade

ONE

It was cold. Too cold. Everyone decided that a party was needed to celebrate the boss's birthday. Walking outside for 45 minutes in February in Washington is not the best idea, even for the boss. I tried to say we should just all take our cars but, no. David says we should all walk together. 

Fucking David.

I wasn't paying attention earlier so I had no idea where we were headed. As soon as we walked down Baltimore Ave I knew exactly where our dinner reservations were. After walking through the alleyway behind the local bar, the club came into sight. It was a mostly quiet place, only local gangs like us knew where it was, and had access. The people there were always nice because this was neutral territory and we all knew it. When our group finally entered, there were a few new things I noticed. The light fixture had been replaced and now a dark red was cast over the Maroon's floor. The color was coming from strip lights across the ceiling and it was a nice touch. The crappy ass tables they had last time I was here had been replaced by mahogany-rimmed chairs with plush scarlet seats and polished matching tables. The bar was what caught my eye, though, the nasty countertops had been polished to perfection, and the drink glasses had been replaced as well by a brand new set. The most important thing I noticed was the man behind the bar, he was mixing drinks left and right but his deep, smokey hair stayed perfectly in place. He noticed the large group of Snakes that walked in and immediately cleared out part of the bar for our reservation, his long slender fingers wiping off our little section. He went back to the man he was serving before, a Diablo by the looks of the cross tattoo on his shoulder. 

Our whole group sat down and David started to talk to the cute bartender, asking him about getting a pitcher of Coors Lite. Once we got the pitcher, the people who wanted cocktails started to tell him what they wanted. Lance, Skyler, AJ, and I got Moscow Mules. Maddie and Eloise got Sister Wives. The boss got an Irish Coffee and the rest drank from the pitcher. For some reason, the bartender kept my eyes on him. His eyes were gorgeously sharp, his gaze like a jagged shard of jade, deep green and dangerous. His skin was almost paper light and thin, I felt if I shook his hand just a bit too hard he would crumble. He looked delicate and soft, but I knew he had to be a fighter if he got a position at the Maroon. 

I was proved correct when a group of burly men stumbled into the bar, ready for a fight. They had leather jackets with the symbol of clubs on them, they were Aces. Aces weren't allowed in the bar because of the fact they weren't from the main Seattle area and didn't know the neutral territory's rules.  The bartender noticed immediately, and while most other patrons didn't really pay attention, everyone's heads whipped around at the demanding voice that erupted from his throat.

"Leave." The bartender ordered. His voice wasn't deep or manly, but it was smooth like a steadily flowing river of honey.  The three men looked at the bartender in distaste and one guy reached into his jacket, the flashing reflection of steel caught my eye, but before I could do anything the raven-haired boy pulled a weapon of his own.

I drank my cocktail in glee, as I watched the three men freeze at seeing the cool metal barrel aimed straight at their heads. I felt giddy watching these three big guys being scared of what looked like a doll.

"I won't ask you again, leave." He repeated, but one of the men, a ginger with the least-built frame of the three, took a step up.

"And why should we, twink?" he spit at the boy. The bartender looked completely unfazed, but when the sound of a gunshot rang through the bar most of the patrons returned their gazes to the scene.

The ginger's leg had been shot, right in the thigh.

"Get out, I don't want any blood on the floor of my bar." The boy said in distaste. The men scurried out of the space and everyone went back to eating and drinking. I was bored out of my mind until the bartender got closer to me. I had to squint to read his nametag. It said 'Hello, my name is: Milo' 

"Hey Milo," I said "Can I get a refill?" He nodded and grabbed my cup, putting it in the sink to be cleaned he made another cocktail. I watched him pour the vodka and lime juice together, the ginger beer came next and then he shook the mixer and poured out my drink.

"One Moscow Mule," he announced setting my cup down in front of me. "Anything else?" With some amount of liquid courage and honestly just wanting to know his answer I asked,

"Could I get your number, Milo?" His eyes glittered with humor and he giggled a bit before he answered.

"There are rules, gangster. You know that, but for a fun time, yeah. I'll give you my number."  I felt a giddy little grin fall on my lips as I watched him write his number on a napkin. He slid it under my cocktail and winked at me. "I get off around 3 and I don't start till 10. Use that information as you wish, Snake." 

Hello, luvs! The first few chapters will be intros to how the characters behave little FYI! My update schedule fluctuates a lot so please, bear with me! Have fun and happy reading!

<3 Jangmi