Embracing His Syn (Nothing Special 2)

One of the female entertainers sitting with Sasha and her friends raised her hand. “You said they have a suspect in custody. Who is it? One of our crew?”

“No. It isn’t one of our entertainers, but we don't know the suspect’s identity,” was all Mack said, and it looked like the girls didn’t like that response at all.

“Is it a man or woman?” she questioned quickly.

“Female from what we understand,” Greg answered.

That started a frenzy and Sasha and her girls stormed out the room. What the fuck is going on?

“Please, settle down everyone,” Greg raised his voice to be heard over the already too-loud comments bouncing around the room. “We want you all to know that we are available for you if you need us. We understand that some of you were close to Jake and considered him a friend. We have hired a security team to patrol the grounds nightly after seven. So those of you who have late shoots are not to leave the building without a security escort. Male or female. Everyone clear on that?”

People were already getting up and gathering their belongings. A few members of the set crew were bringing the furniture back into the room and setting up for shooting.

The show must go on. Furi shook his head solemnly. Doug tapped Furi’s shoulder. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

“Hey. You okay?” Doug embraced Furi, not caring who was watching.

“Yeah. It's just shitty. Who the hell would want to kill him ... and a woman?”

“I don’t know, babe. Come on I’m late for work. I’ll take you home.”

“No, I’m good. I think I’ll catch the bus.” Furi left the building.

“It’s almost an hour ride. Come on let me drive you home.” Doug ran his fingers through Furi’s hair.

Furi combed his own hands through his hair and pulled his rubber band from his pocket, quickly securing a ponytail at the base of his neck. “It will give me some time to think.”

“To think about what? Don’t over-analyze this. Sometimes fucked-up shit happens to nice people. Don’t go getting yourself all depressed.” Doug opened his car door and paused to narrow his eyes at Furi. “I mean it.”

“Someone is dead. Have some compassion, Doug. Jake had a family. But, really, I’m good. I just want to ride and clear my head. I've got to call your brother soon, too.”

“Atta’ boy.” Doug held up his hand for a high five and Furi left it hanging.

“Shut up. Go to work.” Furi leaned in and gave Doug a quick peck.

“Your lips are soft and pink like a girl's,” Doug teased him, licking his lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” Furi called over his shoulder while walking toward the street. He pulled his ear buds from his pocket, plugging the end into his MP3 player. He let the sounds of soft rock fill his ears as he took long strides towards the bus stop.

I don’t want to talk to the cops. I’ll just tell them where I was last night, and I don’t know shit else.

‘Something’s Missing’

Syn was sitting at his kitchen table starring into his glass of orange juice. He’d gotten about two hours of sleep after Ronowski dropped him off. God and Day had looked like they were extremely anxious to get home. Witnessing the person you love get shot at makes a man want to affirm life in an animalistic-stake-your-claim kind of way. Syn heard the bullets whizzing by him, but there was no one home waiting to show him their appreciation that he was alive. There wasn’t a warm body to curl up next to, making sure he slept peacefully. There was no one to smile at in the morning with thanks in their eyes that they were with you for at least one more day. There was just no one.

Syn scrubbed his hand over his hair and leaned back in his chair, unconsciously surveying his surroundings. Maybe some curtains and a few pictures would be nice. Syn had a sixty-five inch flat screen television and one recliner set in front of it. One lamp attached to an end table next to the chair. Something to set his beer bottle on. The kitchen possessed very few amenities: the usual stove, fridge, microwave, a toaster, a teakettle, and a can opener on the counter. There was a small three chair dinette set placed by the far wall.

Syn hadn’t felt like this since Rhodes had moved out of their small apartment in Philadelphia when he’d met someone. That apartment had felt like Rhodes was always on top of him. Syn used it as an excuse not to feel weird whenever Rhodes’ hard body rubbed up against him or when they ended up a little closer together than guys usually sat on a couch … but it was okay because the living room was only big enough for their television and a loveseat. So he had to rub thighs with Rhodes. Right? So why was Syn devastated when Rhodes left? Why was he so goddamn lonely? Like he was right now.