Embracing His Syn, page 4
Furi’s passion was bikes, but he loved cars too. Unfortunately, when he’d fled Charlotte and landed in Atlanta he didn’t think about them not having a great motorcycle mechanic school. Georgia Piedmont Tech was well known for its automotive technology program and Furi had eagerly enrolled as soon as his name change was official.
Furi checked that the bolt on his front door was secured and jogged up the couple stairs to the sidewalk. He saw his landlady, Ms. Jones, was bent over the small flower garden and Furi called to her when he jogged past. She waved a small, weathered hand at him, smiling sweetly. He made a mental note to cut the grass for her this weekend. She must’ve breezed in after he'd fallen asleep last night, probably just to check on things. He hoped she’d be going back to her daughter’s house.
Furi just made the number six bus before it pulled up. He settled in for the hour and a half bus ride to Peachtree City. Sure, if he had a car the trip would be half that time, but Furi had a plan and it required his and Doug’s entire savings to bring it to fruition.
“Hey there stud, I figured you’d be taking the bus and thought I’d give you a ride to the studio.”
Furi was grinning ear to ear as he took his ear buds out and threw his arms around his best friend. If they were both filming on the same day, then Doug usually met him at the bus stop in his brand new Kia Sportage SUV so he didn’t have to walk the last couple of miles to the studio.
Furi gently placed his book bag in the backseat and climbed in the front, quickly fastening his belt while looking horrified at the noise coming from the speakers. The music and bass pounding through the speakers were deafening. “What the fuck are you listening to, Doug?”
Doug looked at him, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “What? You don’t like rap? Oh come on. Everyone knows who this is. He’s won like a ton of awards. Ice Cube!”
“Well those lyrics sound lukewarm. Please turn it off, or at least down.”
“This the thanks I get for saving you from hoofing it another two miles.”
“I’d rather walk in a G-string and flip flops with a Chihuahua nipping at my ankles than listen to this shit for even one mile.” Furi laughed.
Doug ejected the compact disc, mellow rock now filling the small space. “Better?”
“Very much.”
“So I hear you’re going the distance today?” Doug raised his eyebrow at Furi. “They changed your solo to you fucking Sasha Pain. Bro, why didn’t you tell me?”
“What the fuck? Who said that?” Furi gritted his teeth.
“She’s been posting shit all over Facebook. Since you’re not on social media to refute it, everyone’s going crazy about it.” Doug pulled into one of the few empty spaces in the parking lot.
Furi looked around at all the vehicles. “Damn, there’s a lot of shoots today.”
“Actually, no there aren't. Everyone’s here to watch you.” Doug rubbed his hand over the smooth caramel skin on his cheeks, licking his pinky and slicking down his dark eyebrows. He was biracial and his skin was beautifully tan and flawless, his soft hair had a little length to spike up wildly. He opened the door and looked over the hood at Furi as they both got out.
“You don’t want to do it, do you?” Doug looked as pained as Furi felt. “I knew something was off about it.”
“I never said I’d do it, man. I can’t fuck no female, Doug. Oh god. Especially not Sasha. Damnit!” Furi ran his hand through his hair and pulled the length at the bottom. “Fuck!” he yelled.
He realized now that he should have responded to the email last night. Mack must’ve thought his silence meant he agreed to do it. Now everyone was here to watch him bang one of the skankiest women Furi had ever met. This woman’s life revolved around fucking. If she wasn’t doing it on screen then she was doing it in someone’s car, at a club, in the break room, on the beach, where-the-fuck-ever. Furi wanted to throw up.
“Hey, Furious. Breathe, man. Shit.” Doug’s strong, calloused hand was squeezing his shoulder as he leaned against the car.
Furi’s world was spinning, like he was on a ride from hell at an amusement park and the operator – in this case, Mack – wouldn’t let him off.
“It’s not worth this. Not worth your mental health, dude. You look like you’re about two seconds from going ape shit. You’re not obligated to do this ya know. Your agreement was solos, so that’s what you stick to, okay? He can’t force you.”
“I know,” Furi whispered. “But I sure as fuck can use the money, man. I still need books and tools for this semester. I refuse to use my savings. I graduate after this semester, and we are this fucking close to opening the shop, Doug. A few weeks, tops and we’ll be fuckin’ open for business.”
Doug had a rich girlfriend who showered him with expensive gifts, but she never gave him cash. Not to mention that the cars and condo were all in her name. He still had to work for his money. Doug already had a mechanic’s certification and worked full-time at a Chevy dealer, but he’d always wanted his own shop, specializing in restoring classics. He did porn shoots to help them reach their financial goal faster and Furi loved his best friend’s dedication.
“Buddy, take the money out of your savings and buy your school stuff. I’ll pick up a few extra scenes this month to cover it.”
“I can’t ask you to do that, Doug. That isn’t right. Fifty/fifty all the way, remember?” Doug pulled him into an embrace. “You’re not asking. I’m offering. Besides it’s just fucking. Two or three extra scenes ain’t nothing.” Doug pulled back and held on to Furi’s neck, looking into his eyes. “Especially if it means saving my best friend’s sanity.”
Furi hugged him back hard. No one had ever sacrificed anything for him. Not since his father was alive. Now he had a real friend willing to fuck strangers on screen, just so he didn’t have to. Well hell. “I love you, man. Damnit. Thank you, Doug.”
“I know you do, you sensitive little girl. Gotta keep that virtue of yours intact.” Doug’s soft laugh blew Furi’s hair as they stood that way a little longer. “I love you too, man.”
They parted and turned in opposite directions as both men discreetly wiped at their eyes.
“Let’s go tell these sex fiends that they can take their popcorn and goobers and go the fuck home, the show is cancelled.” Doug hooked his arm around Furi’s neck and pulled him through the parking lot and into the small building.
‘I’ve Already Screwed it Up’
Syn stayed at the speed limit on his way home, he was in no rush. Work had been productive. Meeting after meeting and mounds of paperwork. God had officially introduced him to their team as third in command, so technically he was a Sergeant now and hopefully his pay would reflect that promotion soon. The guys were an easy group to command, each of them the best in his specialty.
The first half of the day was spent with the team getting him up to speed on their current cases. He wasn’t afraid to jump right in and take charge. It’s what Syn did best. Managing and controlling situations. He wasn’t nervous about calling the Detectives out on their bullshit and vice versa. The laid-back-say-what’s-on-your-mind-no-hard-feelings camaraderie was simple to adjust to. Syn’s feelings weren’t easily hurt so he had no problem with God’s tough-as-nails attitude or Day’s snide remarks. Simply put: you had to have skin as tough as a rhino to survive on this task force. Now it was evening and after listening to God and Day heatedly dispute how they were going to prioritize the next two cases, Syn and several other members had eased out quietly when the looks between them began to turn less angry and more hungry. He shook his head and secretly wished he could be a fly on the wall in their bedroom tonight. What the hell? No I don’t.
Syn needed to get laid, but he couldn’t get tattooed arms and long, soft brown hair out of his head. Strong, lean body mixed with soft features. Jesus, fuck. Syn had to admit the sexy bartender did look like his ex-roommate. When Syn had graduated from the Philadelphia police academy he’d chosen to apply to a ‘roommate wanted’ ad posted in the officers' break room. Nothing ever came of him and Rhodes but damn if there weren’t some pretty intense glances and quick touches. Rhodes was gay and made sure that Syn knew he was wanted by the big man. Syn was just too afraid to tell his roommate exactly what he wanted Rhodes to do to him.
It was Friday night and he didn’t have anywhere to be. He wasn’t overly eager to go to his barely furnished apartment and order takeout. He’d thought about taking some of the guys up on their offer to meet at a bar called Henry’s, but he doubted he’d make it there. He actually had another bar in mind tonight. Rather, another bartender.
Syn heaved a sigh as another car sped past him. Okay, that lady was like ninety years old. He pressed down on the accelerator and moved to snag a spot right in front of his building. Syn checked his watch, it was five minutes after eight, just enough time to go inside and take a quick shower.
Syn had on a tight, black t-shirt with dark blue jeans. He typically didn’t do anything with his dark brown hair; he kept it cut close on the sides and simply finger-combed the length on top. He could probably use a shave, but decided to let the two-day old growth alone. Syn tucked his Glock 37 in his waistband, always feeling comforted by the weight of his weapon nestled snugly against the base of his spine. He tucked his handcuffs, wallet and his badge in his inside coat pocket and headed for the door. As soon as he exited he saw his neighbor coming down the hall toward him with a pizza box in his hand, flanked by two other guys that looked like metal-head stoners.
Syn had been meaning to talk with the young punk about his loud, head-cringing music blasting at all hours of the night.
“What up, man?” The stoner threw a limp hand up at him with his greeting.
Syn looked at his neighbor and just managed to not roll his eyes before responding. “Yeah, hey. Uh, I wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind keeping the music down after midnight. I’m sure a lot of your neighbors feel the same way.”
The stoner and his friends looked at Syn as if he had horns before they all cracked up.
“I haven’t heard any complaints dude, and besides, I was here first. You just moved in,” his neighbor argued weakly.
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Syn gritted his teeth, his patience diminishing rapidly.
“Everything,” Stoner hissed, stepping into to Syn’s face.
This has got to be a goddamn joke. He wants to fight now. Syn did roll his eyes this time. “Look. I don’t have time for this bullshit. Keep the fucking music down or I’ll haul your high ass in for disturbing the peace.” Syn flipped his gold badge out and felt smug when the stoner’s friends sobered and turned their backs on him, retreating quietly into the apartment.
“Sure. Officer,” Stoner spat the word ‘officer’ in the most disrespectful tone he could muster and bumped Syn’s shoulder while moving past him into his apartment.
Syn was sure he heard a murmured ‘fucking pig’ before his neighbor’s door slammed shut in his face. He wasn’t going to let that little exchange ruin his mood. He should be celebrating tonight. He was just hired by the Atlanta PD and promoted into the most revered task force in the Eastern U.S. People would know his name. He’d be set apart from his family's legacy, creating his own. Syn was due some congratulatory pats on the back and some hot sex. Soulful midnight eyes and a thick accent popped into his mind almost causing Syn to stumble.
Syn jogged across the three lane street and needed a couple of calming breaths as he stood staring at the heavy wooden door to the pub. Hell, why was his heart racing in the first place? He looked up and down at the many bars and restaurants on his street. The crowd was already bustling with pre-weekend excitement. Syn straightened his spine and pushed the door open. He stepped into the loud dark environment, taking a brief look around at the crowd before making his way to the bar. He took a seat close to where he’d sat yesterday and tried to be discreet while looking for his favorite bartender.
Syn only saw the big man from last night who had called the bartender ‘Furious’ and two female bartenders dressed in the bar's official t-shirt along with short, kilt-like skirts and platform shoes. He tried not to be disappointed, but felt it slowly creeping in. Syn completely turned around on his stool and scanned the dance floor and its surrounding tables. Maybe he works the floor too. Syn didn’t see him. Fuck, goddamnit, his mysterious friend was off tonight, probably out getting a shit-load of attention elsewh–”
“Looking for someone?” Rich, deep, mellow sexiness stroked its way down Syn’s back like a lover’s caress.
Oh God. Syn slowly spun his seat back around and locked onto those dark chocolate pools that were Furi’s eyes. The bartender was looking at him like he’d just discovered all of Syn’s secrets. All his wants. All his deepest desires ... fuck. All of his kinks. Syn wanted to bolt at the feeling of being exposed, but he held fast. Furi blinked at him and it broke Syn’s trance.
Shit. Furi had asked him a question.
“No,” Syn answered quickly, wincing at the excitement in his voice. He took a breath before speaking again. “I’m not looking for anyone.”
“You sure?” Furi smirked. He wiped at some non-existent liquid on the bar and tossed a napkin in front of him. “What’ll it be, Chief?”
Here we go with the nicknames again. God I just want to hear him say it once. Is that too much to fuckin’ ask? Syn smoothed his hand over his stubble. “Sure uh, let me get a double shot of Maker's with a Corona.”
Furi didn’t move or acknowledge his order. He just stared. So Syn stared back. Damn this man was something. Tattoos every damn where, peeking out where clothes ended, visible even through the rips in his jeans. Hair looking so soft and beautiful. His lips pink and plump like a woman's but Syn was sure that the prickly stubble wouldn’t feel like kissing a woman. It would feel like ... hell, he didn’t know. Furi’s arms were braced on the bar, the veins in his arms protruding with the muscles twitching just beneath the surface of his inked skin. Now it was Syn’s turn to display a little confidence.
“Start a tab. I might be here for a while ... Furious.” Syn said the man’s name slowly. Letting it play across his lips for size. Syn liked the startled look that flashed across his new friend’s face. It seemed he liked his name on Syn’s lips, sounding sexy and dirty.
Furi quickly looked around to see if anyone else was paying attention to their stare-off. He pulled at his hair and turned around without a comeback. Furious didn’t seem as cocky as he had at the bus stop last night.
Syn watched him for a few seconds while he took and filled a couple more orders His back was turned and Syn tried to get a look at the view hidden behind the bar, but was distracted by a loud knocking coming from the other end of the pub. He turned to look but the crowd was thick, and all he could see was a rambunctious group over by the pool tables and dart boards. Looked like college kids. The loud pounding and chanting sounded again.
“Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!” The small crowd chanted and banged what must be beer mugs on the wooden tables.
“What the fuck?”
Syn turned back around and saw his drinks were in front of him and so was Furious.
Louder knocking and yelling.
“What the hell is that?” The big man – Syn assumed now was the owner – emerged from behind double doors that probably led to the kitchen. “What is that damn noise, Furious?”
Syn watched Furious close his eyes with obvious annoyance and wipe his cloth across the bar in front of him. Furious shrugged but the stout owner didn’t see it because he was still trying to see over his customers' heads into the dark corner. This time the knocking was louder than the music.
The big guy put his hand on Furious’ shoulder and spun him around to face him. “Furi, what the fuck is that knocking?”
“Hell if I know, Unc. It sure as fuck ain’t opportunity,” Furious yelled back.
Syn choked on his beer laughing at Furious’ witty comeback. When Furious shrugged off his uncle’s grasp and turned back around, he stared down at a still chuckling Syn and shook his head. Syn saw a smile crack the man’s supple lips and before Syn knew it he’d winked at him.
“Well they need to calm down. People are leaving,” the uncle said. “Go tell them to knock it off.”
Syn watched Furious lower his head. He couldn’t make out what Furious was mumbling but it didn’t look like he was chanting a calming mantra. Furious threw the towel on the floor and made his way to the end of the bar. He lifted the bar top and slammed it back down when he’d passed through.
“I’ll show you where you can put that attitude Furi,” his uncle added, irritating Furi further.
Furious disappeared into the crowd. He must’ve made it to the rowdy kids and said something because the knocking stopped briefly before starting up again, only now it was even louder. Syn heard some yelling, then some 'oohhs' and 'ahhhs', which was never good to hear in a rowdy crowd. It typically meant someone was getting told off.
Syn couldn’t see Furious at all, regardless of his six foot one height. He abandoned his seat and made his way through the crowd. Syn felt the shift as he was pushed back with others. Fuck, someone was shoving or fighting. He still couldn’t see. People were gathering in to get closer to the angry shouts. This is not what I came here for. He could finally see Furious nose-to-nose with some preppy guy in a green polo shirt and khaki shorts. His spiky, gelled hair and boy-next-door looks screamed spoiled-rich-college-boy. They were cursing in each other’s faces and Syn was just about to intervene when a thick arm came around Furious’ neck from behind and preppy punched him in the stomach. The pain that flashed across Furious’ face had Syn feeling a burning rage that jolted him into action. He barreled through the last few bodies in his way and took determined steps, using his momentum to nail Furious’ captor in the ribs with a hard right jab. The man bowled over, almost taking Furious to the floor with him.
Syn yanked Furious up and slung him protectively behind him. Preppy looked startled for a second then bared his teeth at Syn.
