The best place in my house was the bar. It was fully stocked with anything you would need to make the standard drinks. I didn't have to leave the house to get drunk, and I didn't have to pay for someone to make something I could create better.
Sitting on my barstool, I could figure even the most difficult of situations out. Most said I was an alcoholic, but I found that drinking kept me sane. Even just sitting at the bar made me calm.
I watched as the event preppers moved through my home. The DJ was spinning through a few tracks that would surely move the crowd. It was six in the afternoon, only three hours before the party would begin. There was no theme for the party, but it would serve a purpose.
I had woken up with Milo on my mind. He was around five foot nine with muddy brown eyes, black hair that he'd diligently brushed into a wave pattern. His medium brown skin tone complemented the red flannel he had worn the last time I saw him. His body was lean but toned, I could tell he ran a lot. I could feel the power in his legs when I held him over a week ago. His pouty lips were a mix of brown and pink that needed to be kissed. His jawline was so sharp it could cut glass. With the tamed brows and shaven face he looked to be in his early twenties, he had not told me his actual age.
He was handsome but suspicious. He would think for a long stretch of time, which in and of itself was not suspicious but something at the back of mind was screaming at me to keep and eye out. He had let me do most of the talking in the morning which was fine since he came off as naturally shy. When he did speak it was like he was performing, not outright because that would have sounded the warning bells. It was a subtle performance, the way he moved came off a little choreographed, like not standing completely straight up hurt him. Most people performed in public so it was another thing I noted but did not act on.
Never the less I was excited to pick him up from the airport. I double checked the time and stood from the stool. I had to leave immediately to get there in time. Leaving the bar area I walked into the living room that had been outfitted with a blacklight to set the mood. The head party planner was with Isaac, my head seller having a discussion about the food for the night. Isaac saw me coming and nodded his head. I signaled that I was leaving and he nodded. Before I stepped out I went to my floor length mirror and made sure my white shirt was clean, and my jeans as well. I opted for sandals that I had placed at my door earlier.
Leaving I choose my red Tesla to drive, one of my financial vices were cars. I loved modern luxury cars that could go fast. I hated where I lived but I loved that there were long roads with little police activity surrounding the area so I could put the gas pedal to the floor often. I pulled off and began driving towards town.
I had picked San Angelo as my hub because it was small and unassuming. Very few people could point it out on a map, and many were looking to leave as soon as they got there. It was a college town so there was a constant influx of potential customers and with the changing population nobody batted an eye at newcomers. I lived with very little worry compared to the person who had my position before choosing to live in Houston. The idiot wanted to be close to the ports, but mostly he wanted to live the high life. Buying exotic animals, purchasing jets. He was everything but discreet, so I killed him before he could destroy my way of life.
As I drove into town, I slowed while soccer moms and teens creeped along the newly paved roads. My finger tapped on the steering wheel when they stopped randomly or drove under the speed limit. Growing up, I did not imagine that I would be in the position I was. I also didn't imagine being a lieutenant would be so boring. I would have expected to be fucking dudes and bitches all the time then taking money baths. I had done that once, but the glamour was not as enjoyable as the movies portrayed it to be, I even ended up getting a rash from the dirty money.
After twenty minutes, I made it to the airport that had undergone significant modernized a few years back. It was small, and the plans that landed only flew to Dallas. I had purchased Milo a ticket when he told me he was unsure if he could make it into town. He did not give out much information; it was almost like pulling teeth to get him to divulge that he was a struggling freelance writer. I had more money than I could spend, so I didn't bat an eye at the three-hundred dollar ticket. Peeling the onion back on the mystery that was Milo was worth the small expense.
After parking, I got out of my car and felt the late afternoon heat hit my skin. The dry heat had become normal, I had been in the region for six years. Though, sometimes I would become surprised how hot it was. Walking up to the building, I watched as kids in various military uniforms walked out of the terminal. A small family walked to a minivan waiting at the curb, the youngest child a red-haired girl gave me a toothy grin. I smiled at her before entering the cool building. It was mostly empty with news playing on the televisions and a teller assisting a lady check her luggage. Walking down the singular flight of stairs was Milo.
He had not noticed me yet, so I ogled him, not that I wouldn't if he saw me immediately. He wore a black and white Hawaiian shirt that was a tad oversized. His shorts cut off at midway down his thighs, showing off his thick legs. He had a fresh haircut, and his skin glowed. If I asked an artist to draw the definition of my type of man, Milo would have been the final sketch. He had earbuds in his ears and his head bobbed to whatever he was listening to. When he finally noticed me and smiled, showing all of his straight teeth. I walked near him and pulled him into a hug. It wasn't big or dramatic since this was our second meeting, but it lingered.
He smelled bright and earthy like ginger while the sweetness of vanilla was present. My hand lingered on his lower back as he pulled his earbuds from his ear.
"Hey," his tone was jubilant. After a flight I was always grumpy, but the altitude had the opposite effect on him. I grabbed the cheap black duffle bag he carried. It wasn't heavy, it might have had the weight of a small laptop and a couple days worth of clothing inside.
"How was the trip," I said, pulling him with me out of the airport. He didn't push me away, instead melting into my touch. He was more open, probably since we had texted constantly, so there was a sense of familiarity.
"It was chill, I took a nap through most of it. Where are we going?" His phone went into his pocket as we reached the car. I popped open the trunk and place the bag inside before unlocking the doors, watching as Milo got inside the passenger side. I got in the car and then drove from the parking lot onto the main road. Turning rap music on at a low level, I spared a glance to other half of the car which brought my attention to him from the road.
"What's up," I asked, my head went from him to the road and back to him.
"You didn't answer me." His tone was a matter of fact, it reminded me of a little girl in kindergarten who used to use the same tone anytime she didn't get exactly what she wanted when she wanted it in class. I chuckled at the thought and he looked at me weirdly.
"What's funny?" His right eyebrow lifted as he spoke.
"You are," I said, earning a scoff.
"I don't mean that in a bad way, your mannerisms are interesting," I explained. He hummed at what I had said. He looked radiant under the glow of the setting sun.
"Were going to my house, I'm having a party with some people from town that I know. It's going to be a good time, I got alcohol, and the best weed this side of the Rio Grande. Are you a partier?" I could practically feel his nerves at my question. I doubted the man ever partied.
"Not normally, but if you say you have the best weed, I'm down." I had expected for him to be against the weed, I was interested to see how he would act under the influence. I couldn't imagine him much calmer than he normally was. Not that I could gauge what was normal for him since he was still a stranger.
"Cool," I responded, turning the music up I powered my way home. When we arrived, the crew was outside putting away left over items. The black lights made the house glow an eerie blue.
"This looks like a lot of money for a party," he said. I grunted, it was only a drop in the bucket. I parked, then got out and grabbed his duffle. He followed me over to the head event planner a tall feminine Latino with bleached blond hair.
"Everything is ready, we will be back for the equipment tomorrow. Please sign this before I go," he handed me a clipboard that had an arrow pointing where I needed to sign. I jotted down my signature before he took his clipboard back and departed the premises with his crew in white trucks.
"What time does all of this start," Milo asked after as we walked into my house not more than a step behind me.. Fog clung to the ground, moving in tendrils along the ground. The DJ was playing soft tunes that faded into the background, and the hue produced from the black light brought me to an immediate calm state of mind.
"Around nine but nobody shows up on time for a party, why?" He shrugged his shoulders and followed me to my room. The scent of grilled food wafted through the house, causing my stomach to grumble. I had only eaten a bowl of cereal during breakfast, so I would definitely make my way to the food sooner rather than later.
"Hey boss," Isaac shouted from behind us. I turned to him and noticed he had changed into all black. I stopped and looked at him, halting my stride toward my room.
"What do you want?" My response was short, a silent way of telling him to not say anything around Milo that he shouldn't hear.
"Oh nothing," he said, turning around. Milo looked at me confused, so I waved the situation off and prodded him into the bedroom. "Ignore him he's an old friend of mine, a little slow," I chuckled.
Milo laughed nervously, I didn't dwell on it so he wouldn't. Placing his bag down, I looked as he stood nervously, arms crossed, and face glancing around. He looked at my bed, fireplace, and my headboard. All the places where I had hidden my guns. I glared at him before deciding how to proceed.
"So." His voice trailed off as he looked around my room. I walked closer to him and pulling him to my chest. His heart was beating fast, his hands limp at his side. I kissed his forehead before pulling away.
"I'm going to get changed, you can go chill by the pool if you want unless you want to get into something." His face warmed at my second suggestion it was cute.
"I think I'll head to the pool," he replied. I rolled my eyes but watched as he left, paying attention to his firm butt. He closed the door behind him and I stripped out of my clothes and gathered them as I made my way to the bathroom. I placed the lump of clothing in my hamper before turning the shower on. Water rained down from the ceiling and steam fogged the glass door. I looked at myself in the mirror and decided I could use a facial hair trim. Under my sink was a set of clippers, I retrieved them and went to work cleaning up my hairline, brows, and trimming my beard. When I finished, I smiled in the mirror.
I then hopped in the shower and exhaled as the water rolled from my curls down to my feet. I looked at my hands and saw light scars from fights. Some were over a decade old, others were as recent as a few months ago. Honduras, especially the little village I was from, had been a hard place to grow up in, I couldn't remember a time when I didn't have to fight. I didn't win all of them, but I fought hard enough to make the other guy rethink messing with me again. My uncle, on my mom's side, had taught me the importance of defending myself. He was the person who introduced me to the life. He would tell me I needed to be ruthless to survive in the world. I had become ruthless; it was how I got the cars, money, and my ranch. It was also how I become respected.
I reached for the soap bottle and poured some on a loofah before scrubbing my skin. Milo liked the soap I used last time, so I used the same one from that night. He was observant, though he wasn't like a cop. I had seen my fair number of undercover pigs and made examples out of them. They all made the mistake of pushing themselves into my life. It was never blatantly deliberate, but obvious when you took a step back.
I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel that a maid folded on the counter. Water rolling off my body pooled on the floor as I checked myself out. I wanted to look good, so I pulled out the expensive curl jelly and ran it through my hair. I moisturized my entire body and brushed my teeth again after swiping on deodorant, an item that was not optional during a Texan summer. When I was all done I went to my connected closet and looked through all of my clothing.
There was a fine line between being well put together and gaudy. I pulled on my boxer briefs and grabbed for smoke gray dress pants. I pulled them on, feeling the fabric rub against my leg hair. I had recently transitioned into fitted pants instead baggy jeans to make myself stand out less. I slipped on socks, a new white shirt made with a thicker material, and the white shoes. I looked good. When I was fully dressed I sprayed cologne on made mostly from clove oil.
Dressed and feeling prepared for a fun night, I walked out of my room in search of Milo, who was messing with a plant in my living room. His hand ran over the leaves, and he hummed to himself. It was barely audible over the music, and the few people who had shown up early for the party. He looked calm; I smiled, knowing Isaac had probably had given him a hit from one of the many blunts he carried around. I watched as he turned to face me; he looked shocked but then smiled quickly.
It was odd, but I wondered if that was just him. An idea popped into my mind, I would need Isaac to do something for me. I would not be left questioning for too long. Instead of going directly to Isaac, I put on my kindest face and walked over and rambled about getting a drink. Before I got invested, I needed for him to show his cards.