Stereo Blast Volume 1 [MxM]

Chapter 5.1

Taylor slammed his fist on the door three times before it swung open. A tall burly man with a large scar across his chin blocked the doorway and frowned down at Taylor. The man was Gus, Mykah’s bodyguard who liked to pick girl’s up off the street who looked to be barely out of diapers. He smelled of alcohol and piss. He looked like it too. The beat up leather jacket was one size too small and the stained white shirt underneath made him look like a pathetic scoundrel.

Taylor scrunched his nose but slammed his fist one more time, close to Gus’s head.

“I’m here to see Mykah.” He thought it was obvious, but Gus was an i***t and he wasn’t in the mood for sticking around to hear his nosy questions.

Gus took one look at Taylor. He spat on the ground at his feet.

“He’s inna meetin’.”

“Tell him I’ve got what he ordered.”

Gus grinned. “What’s that, pretty boy?”

Taylor kicked his foot out and stomped his heel onto Gus’s foot. The man lashed out with one hand, but Taylor fell back to dodge the hand. His side ached as he fell against the side of the building, but he swallowed the hiss that edged on the tip of his tongue. He glared at Gus, holding back because he knew Mykah would start something if he fought with his body guide once more. For some reason, Gus got a free pass when it came to disrespect. If it were anyone else, he would have been dead in a ditch somewhere.

He almost covered his wound with his hand, but he thought better of it and instead moved forward into the doorway. Gus moved to block him again.

“f**k off. I’ve got business,” he glared up. “And call me pretty boy one more time motherfucker. Mykah can’t do s**t if there’s a knife in your throat.”

Gus stopped. He was a guard dog, nothing more. He liked to act like he was more though.

He finally fell back, pressing against the door. Taylor slipped through, knocking his shoulder into Gus’s. He heard the man cuss under his breath which sounded awful like “blond cunt”, but he didn’t really care. Irritation flooded his face and he fought to hide the sour face. Mykah read into emotions too much for Taylor’s liking. He could tell Taylor’s thoughts like he was looking right into his brain and he always used it for his own advantage.

The inside of the building was renovated to look like a golden empire and hotel hybrid. It was shabby, the gold tarnished and the flooring scuffed from the sheer amount of dirty boots treading through the place, but it was far better than any of the other residences on the block. Mykah had this entire place for himself. He’d claimed it during the Rising with the help of his father who’d already established himself as the alpha in the Wolves. After passing the title down to Mykah, the old man had “mysteriously” died.

Taylor walked down the long corridor. From the far hall, voices came from an open room. Smoke and the smell of s*x filled the hallway, flowing through the house with the air. His nose twitched at the pungent smell. He never could get used to the smell though he’d lived in trash all his life. There was a distinction and it was made worse with the company.

He lingered outside the open door. Inside, Mykah was sitting in a large black chair with a woman sitting on his lap. She was dark haired and wore a black dress to match her dark eyes. She held a cigarette to Mykah’s mouth and let her fingers linger on his lips. Sitting on opposite couches were four men. One was Eli, Mykah’s consultant or right-hand man. He was pug-faced, an unfortunate look that came with getting punched in the face too many times. The one sitting next to Eli was Michael, the one man out of the three that Taylor didn’t mind all that much. He kept to himself except when he was called on or when the situation involved him. He had a cold face to match his personality, distant, but not too far removed from reality that he didn’t think on his feet.

And then there were the two other men. They were dressed more formally than Taylor had seen anybody dress like. The one on the far right wore glasses, clean and sleek like he polished them daily. The other had a short beard, but he looked like anyone else. Forgettable. But they didn’t look like they belonged here. Their faces and their clothes were too well groomed and clean to call this s**t place home.

Taylor walked into the room.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, catching the attention of everyone. Mykah held his gaze, offering only the stoic look that he wore daily.

Taylor held up the blue vial and nodded to Mykah.

Mykah’s arm tightened around the woman’s waist. Her blue eyes took in Taylor, eyeing him from head to toe before she brushed him off as no one she wanted to get involved with. He could see it in the way she turned her head and leaned into Mykah, dipping in a way that showed off the curves of her breasts. While Taylor could have been insulted or angry with the way she brushed him off, he wasn’t new to the side looks he got from those who didn’t know better. Those outside the gangs were oblivious to the higher society forming in front of their noses. They were often stupid or scared to look in deeper.

The government ruled Mason while the gangs ruled the districts. Feds liked to dip their fingers in when they needed something, but they were never working for the sake of the people.