Page 29

OR SOMETHING

Loralynne Summers

Chapter One

Vladislav Carson—just Carson to anyone and everyone else in the world, though, because thanks, Mom and Dad—stared at his blank screen in disbelief. After the video conference had ended, he hadn’t moved for long enough that his laptop went into sleep mode.

He’d gotten the job.

He’d gotten the job!

“Hah!” he shouted, clapping his hands together. On the couch, his cat jumped, eyes wide as her front claws dug into the blanket she’d been sleeping on. “Sorry, baby!” he said with a laugh as he scooped her up. She protested slightly, and looked rather put-out when he kissed the top of her head. “We’re moving, sweetie. Daddy got the job!” She squirmed, and he set her back down before she could scratch him.

“How should we celebrate?” He looked around the small studio apartment. “This won’t take long to pack.” ZIM Tech, Inc., his new employer, had given him two months to relocate to the city. It’d probably only take him two days to pack. And they were providing housing in apartments near the office building until he’d be able to find a place—many agencies had months-long waiting lists. He didn’t have time to search for and tour places from halfway across the country, and when he got there, he’d be busy learning the job. They wanted him there sooner than later, hence the free short-term housing. Plus, they were paying the moving expenses. It was almost too good to be true. He didn’t have this kind of luck.

“Ophelia, baby, I’m going out tonight! I haven’t been laid in forever. Let’s see how good this luck is today!” The cat regarded him with one eye before tucking her nose back down into her paws. Still laughing, and in better spirits than he’d been in for weeks, he went to change.

Like usual, he ended up at The Hot Box. He loved it for its unassuming nature. At first glance, it looked like any other bar or pub—booths for actual sit-down eating, a couple of pool tables, a few dart boards, televisions, and a jukebox—until you took a closer look at the clientele and the décor. It was his favorite place to end the night, no matter where he started, if he didn’t just start there anyway. It was warm and comfortable and felt safe. This was his family, and as he pulled the door open, he was hit with a wave of emotion as he realized just how much he’d miss them all.

He stood in the entrance, eyes roaming the place, trying to burn it into his memory. He noticed a new silhouette, a shoulder-to-waist ratio so gorgeous that the man could be a damned Dorito chip for how perfect it was. His heart rate kicked up a notch, but before he could take a step for the empty barstool next to the new man, a body was in his way.

“Hey, Lexi,” he said, eyeing the person in front of him—it was a Lexi day, not an Alexander day.

“Oh, Carson baby, why do you look so sad? Come here, let me make you feel better,” she said, pulling him into a fierce hug.

“Aww, it’s a happy sad. I’m good. But thank you, girlie.”

Lexi gasped and pulled back, hands gripping Carson’s shoulders tightly.

“Did you get it?” she whispered.

Carson couldn’t stop the smile that split his face in answer.

“Oh my God!” she squealed, and began bouncing up and down in front of him. “Carol!” she hollered, dragging him towards the bar. “Get this man a drink on me! We’re celebrating tonight!”

Cheers rose in greeting, and Carson was passed from friend to friend for hugs and congratulations. Eventually they all settled down, and before he knew it, he’d been sucked into playing pool. After his third game, he felt eyes on him. When he looked up, he was staring into the face of the newcomer, who’d turned around on his stool to watch him play.

“Carson! My turn!”

Carson closed his eyes and groaned internally, before he schooled his expression and turned to Tommy with a smile.

“Sure thing, buddy!”

“I’ve been practicing, I’m getting better!” Tom answered enthusiastically.

“All right, show me what you’ve got, big man!” The words were spoken to Tom, but Carson’s eyes were locked on the stranger’s as he said them.

The man cocked an eyebrow at him, but couldn’t keep the slight smirk from curving one side of the full lips Carson desperately wanted to gnaw on. With an answering wink, Carson turned his attention to Tommy and the game. Halfway through, a deep voice, warm and smooth, sent shivers down his spine.

“So. Celebrating, huh?”

Carson eyed the stranger as he came to stand at his side. He was only slightly taller than Carson; he judged his height around six-foot-two. His hair was on the longer side of short, neatly trimmed and styled but still long enough to run a hand through, the thick sweep on top just begging to be disheveled and used as a handle as Carson fucked into his face, past the close-cropped beard that did nothing to hide the strong jaw beneath it.

“Yup. Got the job I wanted. Gotta move now, but it’ll be worth it,” he said with a slight lift of one shoulder. “What brings you here? Never seen you before.”

“Business trip. Needed some dinner, didn’t want room service. This place is close to the hotel.” The man eyed Carson up and down. “The reviews on the food were good. They didn’t mention how good the décor was, too.” The man held eye contact while he slapped his quarters down on the edge of the pool table. “I’ve got the winner,” he said.

You can have me, he managed to not say aloud. Carson finally looked away from the ice blue eyes—they were breathtaking up close—and down at the table. He had one ball left to sink—the eight ball. Tom still had half of his, and he was a lousy shot. Carson had been going easy on him.