Page 1 of Cueball & Double-Z (Alpha’s Rejects #5)

After a long workout of push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching, I stared into the water-stained mirror.

Cold menthol shaving cream crowned my head in a white, foamy cap as I glided the finely sharpened straight razor over my head.

It was the only razor that got rid of the hair the best, leaving smooth skin behind.

I rinsed the blade in the sink filled with water, shaving cream residue, and tiny floating black hairs. I had to do this at least three times a month. My hair grew way too fast.

The apartment had been quiet for almost a year now since Aiden had moved in with Ajax.

Stone had moved out nearly two years ago.

Both of my friends were gone, leaving me alone.

I welcomed it, yet I fucking hated it. I’d grown accustomed to their presence and Aiden’s incessant complaining.

The noise made me feel less lonely, but I refused to do anything about it.

I just didn’t have it in me to find more companionship.

The emotional energy it took me to forge close ties was too much work.

And if I were being honest with myself, I was afraid.

Everything I did and how I lived was the opposite of what I used to have, which was by design. But on this day of all days, I needed the distraction of friends the most. Instead, I was alone. Besides, I needed to go to work. The busy but monotonous job would help some, but not enough.

The blade glided over another section of my head, the scraping noise as familiar as an old friend. I’d been shaving my head for seven years. It had originally been a stupid fucking bet. Now, it was the only way I kept my hair.

Once my head and face were smooth, I cleaned the straight razor, washed out the sink, and dried it with a dirty towel from the laundry bin. I put everything away in its proper place, then stared in the mirror, running a hand over my smooth scalp.

My complete failure in my previous job and personal life brought me to where I was currently. It had all been my fault, so I forced myself to move on alone. To continue living after my world had turned upside down. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet it remained viscerally raw.

I gripped either side of the porcelain pedestal sink and closed my eyes as a flash of memory hit me, forcing me to take a deep and shuddering breath.

Please not now. Please.

Not. Now.

I would give anything to forget. At the same time, I fucking struggled to let go. No, not struggled. I didn’t let go. I held onto it with an iron will.

It was useless to beg. My mind would be like this all damn day, full of snippets of my past, like a rerun of a bad TV show I couldn’t turn off or unplug.

He bursts out laughing, his brown eyes sparkling with humor, his smile spreading wide to expose his straight, bright white teeth. Expensive teeth. God, he’s so beautiful. I never get tired of looking at him or hearing him laugh.

His hand reaches for my head and runs his palm over the smooth skin, sending chills along my skin. I always react this way whenever he touches me, as if his touch is electrical.

“God, you really fucking did it. You crazy bastard,” he says, his tone light and full of humor as he shakes his head.

I huff at him as I try to hide my smile, but it forms crookedly anyway. He always makes me smile. He’s my light. My sun. Even on my worst days. It doesn’t matter how bad I feel or if I’m sick. He’ll always pull a smile from me. “You’re the one who bet me, ass.”

He wraps his arms around my neck and stares up at me with warm brown eyes full of love and adoration. “You didn’t have to go through with it, dork.”

My hands slide along his narrow waist, and I pull him into a hug, looking down at him, so much shorter than me, but I love his pint size. I especially love fucking that tiny pert ass of his.

“A bet is a bet, and I lost.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal, but it kind of is. I miss my dark brown waves. “It’s only hair.”

He tilts his head, still smirking and examining my now shiny head. “I don’t know… I kind of like it. Your head is, like, perfectly round. Who knew? You’re like a sexy Mr. Clean . And Mr. Clean is hot as hell. You look like a cueball.”

I snort a laugh and kiss his forehead. “I’ll take sexy. Cueball not so much. So, should I keep it?”

“Hell. No. I like running my fingers through your hair. I’m going to call you Cueball from now on. Hopefully, it’ll annoy you enough to grow it out.”

“Ugh, have I told you how annoying you are?”

“All the time, and you love it… and me.”

I smile wistfully at him as I lift him by his waist and toss him over my shoulder, making him yelp and then giggle. “You know I do. Now, let’s go play. I’m fucking horny.”

His resonant laughter still rang in my ears, even after all those years. He had the best laugh. An addictive laugh.

With a deep breath to calm my heart rate and the ache, I took a quick shower to wash off the hair stuck to my skin. After I dried off with a clean spare towel, I headed to my bedroom to get ready for work.

When I stepped out into the sleeting morning, I walked to the bus stop.

I could’ve taken the subway, but the bus stopped right outside my apartment building.

As I waited for it to arrive, I tapped out a cigarette from the pack, put it in my mouth, cupped my hand, and lit it.

Smoking was the only vice I allowed myself, not that it was easy to quit.

What was once only a cigarette here or there while drinking and clubbing when I was younger turned into a full-on habit.

With my cigarette hanging from my lips, I buttoned up my coat and pulled my black knitted beanie from my pocket, yanking it on my head far enough down to cover my ears.

I made the hat myself, having taken up knitting a few years ago, which strangely calmed me whenever I was overwhelmed or stressed.

I never dared show Aiden when he was living with me, only knitting in my room with the door locked.

It wasn’t that I cared about what he thought, but I knew I’d never hear the end of it. It would’ve just annoyed me.

A handful of people from all walks of life were waiting at the bus stop.

Most people who didn’t know me were generally wary because of my height and build.

It didn’t help that I rarely smiled. Instead of being bothered by it, I observed them, imagining what their lives must have been like.

Who they were as people. Were they kind?

Cruel? Were they parents? Single? I’d people-watched for so long, even when I was a kid, that it had become an automatic habit.

Observing human nature was my thing. It always had been.

I plugged in my earbuds and put on ‘ The 48 Laws of Power ’ audiobook by Robert Greene. I’m not sure why I bothered. It was trite garbage and toxic, but I also enjoy reading and listening to other viewpoints and dissecting them, learning the flaws in their logic. It kept my mind fresh.

The bus arrived five minutes late. I allowed everyone to get on before me, ignoring the women clutching their purses tightly against their bodies as if I’d snatch them at any second.

I hated that women had to feel that way, not around me, but in general.

The way they always had to be wary and aware of their surroundings.

The bus was crowded, and while there were a couple of empty seats, I chose to stand, holding onto the bar above my head.

I jostled as the bus jerked forward into traffic, but I was used to it and could easily keep my balance .

Eventually, I got bored with my audiobook and switched to some Tchaikovsky, listening to Serenade for Strings . The beautiful music generally put me at ease, but not today. My heart was in a rage despite my efforts to remain calm and under control.

Generally, music was good for the soul. Depending on the song or music piece, it can elicit a range of emotions, from rage to grief, to love and joy.

Fuck it.

I switched the song to Supa Scoopa and Mighty Scoop by Kyuss, one of my favorite heavy metal bands. The fact that I couldn’t make up my mind on what to listen to only confirmed the chaos going on within me. I was usually able to focus easily.

Just over twenty minutes later, I stepped off the bus onto the slick concrete and lifted the collar of my coat to keep the mixture of rain and ice off my neck. With my hands shoved into my pockets, I headed toward the old warehouse a block away.

The industrial area was filled with buildings and warehouses in various states of disrepair, some newer than others.

I didn’t care. A job was a job, and mine paid well enough as a logistics analyst. I was responsible for overseeing drivers, trucks, and containers to maximize productivity and ensure prompt service.

It was also boring as fuck and mind-numbing.

At least it paid the bills and allowed me to save some.

I almost didn’t get the job because I was considered ‘ overqualified .’ Who the fuck cared as long as I got the job done? And I knew a little about the trucking business because my dad had been a truck driver for as long as I could remember.

After one more cigarette, I headed inside CargoNow, the company I worked for, passing row after row of containers and boxes full of products that were to be shipped across the country, the fluorescent lighting always giving me a headache.

I yanked off my hat as I jogged up a flight of metal stairs that led to the offices hovering on stilts above the warehouse as if we were gods looking down at our creations. When I opened the door, I removed my coat and shoved my beanie into a pocket before hanging it up on the hooks provided .

“Hey, Ken,” I said to my boss, who was sitting at his desk, clicking away at his computer. He was a portly man of sixty with pasty white skin, as if it hadn’t seen the sun in over a decade, perhaps longer. His brown-and-gray hair was thinning, and he insisted on wearing a thick mustache.