Page 4 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)

Why me? Why fuckin’ me?

It’d been almost a year since Law had vanished from his life like a cloud of vapor, leaving him at his lowest point.

No warning. No apology. Just some this-is-for-the-best bullshit voicemail.

Since then, Wes had spent every day trying not to look for Law in crowds, in movie credits, on social media…or in his dreams.

Now, as fate—or some fucked-up joke—would have it, Law was right there beside him. Reappearing like the magic he specialized in creating.

He’d rehearsed in his mind what he’d say to Law when or if he saw him again, but the second he made eye contact, the floor dropped out beneath him, and he forgot every word.

Wes sat there trying to breathe through the pressure building in his chest.

This was the last thing he’d expected to happen when he agreed to test for this job today.

Wes tapped one heel on the floorboard of his truck, and yanked his customized Zippo—with the black matte body and 24k gold flames etched on the sides—from his pocket and flipped it open.

He pressed down on the flint wheel as the fire blazed to life. He got lost in the various zones as he allowed the beautiful layers of blue, orange, and yellow to settle him.

He pulled a piece of flash paper from his pocket and touched the tip of it to the outer zone of the fire. The paper ignited into a brilliant flame, before it vanished almost instantly. The just-noticeable heat kissing his fingertips was a welcome distraction as he pulled out another strip.

“I see you’re still doing that when you’re nervous…or pissed off. And since you didn’t feel the need to flash until you saw my face, I’m going to go with pissed,” Law said in his smoky voice.

Wes tried his best to glare. He was so damn angry he could fight, he could curse, he could scream…he could…he could…

Ugh .

The battle in him disappeared with Law so close after so long.

He didn’t want to yell at his natural-born counterpart. He wanted to yank him inside his truck through the fucking window and bury his tongue down his throat.

Wes rubbed his palm over the hollowness, remembering how he’d felt when he’d come home to an empty loft.

“I had to leave you, Wes. We couldn’t let anyone find out the truth, and you know it.” Law sighed.

Wes didn’t look up, remaining focused on his lighter.

“Look at me, dammit. You had to know that was the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. I made it for both of us.”

Wes snapped his lighter shut, clutching the warm object in his hand, wishing his soul could feel even a fraction of that heat.

Law’s presence, his voice, was just like the man’s Chicago Big Bay fireworks show he’d directed five years in a row. Fucking spectacular to see and overwhelming to hear.

He forced himself to glance up, and the sight damn near knocked the breath from his lungs.

Law looked like Hell and Heaven all at once. His jaw was sharper, leaner, hazel eyes ringed with exhaustion, yet still shining with a glint of recklessness.

Despite everything, despite the pain and the silence, Wes couldn’t stop the way his body ached from just seeing him.

“Why are you here, Law?” he gritted.

To torture me? To make me break all my fuckin’ rules. To level me and make me feel like a fool…again?

He glanced over at the old Explorer Law was driving. It was a long way from the Maserati he used to race around the curves of Malibu Canyon.

“What do you think I’m doing here, Wes, stalking blocklisted industry techs? I’m here to get the job.”

And there was that fiery passion Wes craved. Damn him and that slick, perfect mouth of his that he wanted to punish…with his cock.

Wes was glad he kept the surprise off his face because he was curious how Law thought he was going to accomplish that.

“Then may the best man win, you cocky piece of shit. Damn you. Even after all this time…” Wes breathed, his anger already getting the better of him.

It infuriated him that he could bite his tongue in front of authority figures and ignore the hate from pissed fans on social media, but when it came to Lawson Sheppard, Wes’s fuse was always clipped short.

He gripped the door handle and shouldered it open, bumping Law’s hip as he did.

“You really wanna do this here?”

He stared Law down as if he wanted to pounce, ignoring the attention they were attracting.

“You’re inhaling your own nitrous if you think you’re getting this job over me.”

Law made a show of eyeing Wes’s khaki pants, Doc Martens, and green collared shirt. He barked a doubtful laugh in his face. “You think coming here dressed like Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is going to intrigue music artists?”

Wes inched closer until Law’s back was against his truck.

They were the same height and build, which meant Law always gave as good as he got.

His dick got harder when he caught a whiff of Law’s smoky scent that always mixed too well with his bold cologne.

His body’s traitorous reaction only served to make him angrier.

“No way! Yo, that’s Wes and Law over there. Holy shit.”

He turned in the direction of three men who looked to be in their late twenties, hurrying toward them.

While some manchildren were getting ready to fanboy all over them and probably say how wild it was when they’d set Sky Forwonder on fire, the commercial director had opened the bay doors and allowed a few mature applicants to enter.

Then the doors closed, and Law and Wes were left in the parking lot, still bickering like children.

“Fuck!” Law yelled.

“Like I said. Some things never fucking change,” Wes grumbled.

Now what the hell was he going to do?

The severity of his situation weighed on him. If he didn’t get some cash saved soon, he would be up shit’s creek without a paddle.

Worse, he hated that his mom had to go back to work because of his irresponsibility. Regardless of how much she said she enjoyed nursing, Wes wanted to go back to taking care of her.

Frustrated, he rounded on Law.

“You show up just in time to fuck with my head and screw shit up for me…like always. I haven’t seen you in a year, Law. A goddamn year!”

It was the longest he’d ever gone without seeing him, kissing him, loving him, since they were teenagers.

“Wes, wait—”

“Look.” Wes deflated. “If you see me at the next audition…walk away. That’s always been your specialty, right?”

Law stood there with a stupid, stunned expression on his gorgeous face as Wes got into his truck and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving him behind.

Now. How does it feel, motherfucker?