CHAPTER ONE

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Bree accused herself as she pushed open the door to her favorite down town bar.

It's seen her at her worst and this was one of those days she just needed to drown herself in the flavored alcohol they sold here.

Her lacrimal glands were failing her as tears made their way down her perfectly made up face, ruining hours of trying and perfection.

Ughhhh!

She'd rather not waste her precious bodily fluids on the low life scum she'd wasted her years with.

Cole didn't deserve her tears in any way, never have.

She dragged her ass over to the bar and dropped her weight on the first vacant bar stool she saw, not sparing a glance at the other occupant of the space.

There was a new guy tending the bar and not her go to guy, Jerry.

Of course, just typical of the universe to go against her on this very horrible day and have her favorite bar tender gone too.

"What will you have, pretty?" The new guy asked.

She ignored the flirting in his tone, focusing instead on making a choice of drink, from their colorfully named selection, worthy of the occasion.

"A glass of your Royal fuck will be fine."

She slouched slightly on the counter top, while she waited for her order to be served.

"Not that I give any of that about any bastard asshole, but yeah,that's exactly what I want to drink."

She muttered to no one in particular, grand in her gestures, her auburn hair falling into her face.

Good choice there, she congratulated herself, what better way to accept that you are royally fucked than to order a drink with a matching name.

Anger, that was all she felt at the moment.

She was out of the self pity, self blame stage and undiluted anger was all that was coursing through her as she waited for her 'Royal fuck-ery'.

How dare a little fuck like Cole, with his lame ass name, play her for a fool?

And with Bella, the blonde bitch next door, no less.

Well, now they could both drag their deceitful, lying and cheating asses to the hottest parts of hell where they obviously belong.

She wouldn't care less if they make a dozen demon babies along the way.

A scoff drew her attention to the man seating on the stool next to hers, drinking his own chosen poison.

Of course, she'd gone and said that out loud and now he feels self righteous enough to scoff at herself and her predicament.

She turned to him and with all the venom she could muster, she mouthed a "fuck you too" to him.

He could do well to join her cheating ex and bitchy neighbor on their fun trip to hell for all she cared and he'll do well to fuck himself, hard.

The bar tender returned about the time she finished that thought and was thinking up various ways he could do that self fucking.

He had this expression on his face that should have warned her but didn't.

"I'll rather fuck you."

She heard from beside her.

"Should be more fun."

"Excuse you!"

The nerve of him to say that to her.

Oh wait, not that it excuses his filthy mouth and god complex, but she'd thought about him fucking himself first.

Or had she said that out loud?

Well, fuck.

"I'm not interested in ruining some poor girls four plus years relationship with you just because you can't seem to keep your high and mighty judgment to yourself and your dick in your pants!"

Fucking the same, all the men she's met.

All of them.

There was that annoying scoff again but this time it was accompanied by a half laugh.

"I don't think this has anything to do with me. Want to talk about it?"

Bree wanted to laugh at how pathetic her life have become.

She should have gone out more, made herself a best friend to drink with and share sob stories with in times like this.

Instead, she'd let her life revolve around her undeserving boyfriend.

And now here she was with the only option of dumping her shit on Mr 'I'll rather fuck you' stranger here.

She took one look at him and downed the content of her glass in one gulp, loving the burning sensation left behind by whatever it was the bar guy had mixed in her glass.

She had a feeling she'll need more of it than she can actually afford at the moment, but who cares.

To as painful as sore wound heart breaks, cheers.

There was a heavy silence settling between her and her bar companion even with the loud music blaring in the background.

He didn't strike her like the type that said a lot of words or threw invitations to convos, like the one he made her, around.

She took the cue though, the alcohol helping to loosen her tongue.

"I.......caught him in my bed...With my neighbor. He had her on her knees and was artfully fucking her from behind. 

"He swore to me that he didn't do the 'doggy' just like he also fucking swore that he didn't like blondes."

Another glass of the 'royal fuck-ery' she didn't remember ordering was served to her and she took it without bother.

Does it matter who does the ordering afterrall?

The only answer she got from her bar company was a hard to decipher look.

It was like he was pitying her without actually doing that, like he's had a similar experience or something.

She didn't ask, didn't care.

What she needed was to get this off her chest and he was willing to listen.

"It's not like I forced him to make those swears."

She mused.

"Okay, maybe a little, but the son of a bitch could have told me then that he didn't feel us anymore instead of letting me walk in on him pulling hard on 'Bella the fake bitch's hair and hitting her hard from behind."

Fresh glasses of Royal fuck kept getting served and she kept helping herself to them, gradually loosing count and getting slowly drunk.

"I mean, I'm sure he was doing it all wrong like he always did with me and I can tell you her moan was fake too. Cole's a lousy lay and she probably took him on to get at me. Guess it worked."

More glasses.

"I didn't subscribe to a real life porno, you know. What I did subscribe to was a relationship and love. Somehow, that got expired and I was the only one who didn't know."

He raised a glass in her direction, like he was silently agreeing to that.

Frustrated tears came in a rush to her eyes suddenly and without warning, started rolling down her face in torrents.

"I don't want to go home and have to face either if them. I knew I should have said no to having him move in with me. Oh my God, this is all my fault, I should have kept him away from her."

She cried.

"No it was not, don't make excuses for the son of a gun. The only difference it'd have made is that it would have been some other pussy you'd have caught him buried in. Trust me, I'll know."

That was the first thing he's said to her since the starting of her tale of ruin and it was lengthier than all he's said to her since meeting.

He sounded bitter about it too.

Wonder who could have hurt someone as formidable looking as he did.

She sat morosely, with no feelings at all, drowning herself in a lot of 'fucks' until the room began to slowly spin and her vision became doubled and blurry.

Not a bad day to pass out in a bar with no one to look for her.

Absolutely not.

-

Ryder thought she was cute.

Funny, because it's been a really long while since he's thought that about anyone.

And this was not a thought he wanted to foster about her considering his plan.

Maybe it had more to do with what she'd told him and how she was taking it.

Nobody should be made to go through that hell.

It leaves you angry and then empty with only a load of self blame and doubts for company.

She was on her way there, and he hated the idea of finding out what it'd do to her.

It could make him feel guilty.

She wasn't what he expected and for a second there, it made him second guess his plan.

But he needed her to achieve his aim and there was no going back. 

As he looked at the mess she was, he decided to tweak his plan a little.

He'd get involved with her, till he gets what he needs and she deals with her shit.

"I could help you get back at him."

He offered in his usual deadpan tone, revising the plan.

"Howwww?"

She slurred, her eyelids lifting to let her try to pin him with unfocused eyes.

How many of those drinks did she have by the way?

Well, if she can talk, slur, anything, then she can hear and understand him.

"Go out with me and give me his name. I'll have him crawling back to you with a fitting apology on his lips and a prayer in his eyes. What you do with him then is totally up to you."

He watched her eyes light up with excitement.

She made a picture the definition of cute.

"I won't stick around after. No strings attached. Deal?"

She looked him over with what she probably thought was an A-game quizzical look before she nodded in agreement, thrusting out her dainty hand to take his on.

She reminded him of a child, she probably was one, she looked barely into her twenties.

At least he thought so and he was sticking to it as his excuse for his sudden interest in her.

Nobody should hurt a child, even if that child has firm, full looking breasts and an hour glass figure fitted into a body con dress.

"Deal!" 

She said enthusiastically right before she gave in and fell on the cold counter top, sobbing.

Well, cute!