Playlist: No Love (feat. Nicki Minaj) - August Alsina

~(xXx)~
Red light
You know I can't make this thing that official
Believe we had a great night but I ain't the type to tell you that I miss you shit
You don't like that I make this easy, leaving
After sexing on the floor
Baby, I know you need me, like I need you
But I'm not the one you wanna love
~(xXx)~

It had been years. How many? You weren't entirely sure. It was hard to keep track. He came, you went. You came, he went. It was your arrangement. For the most part – you didn't care. You were his reprieve, his solace and vice versa. This business was a lonely one. You understood the terms of agreement. They were unspoken but laid out in clear detail. No strings attached. Don't catch feelings. Unavailable. All the rules raced through your mind as you reclined against the boulder. Those rules were starting to blur together. Not at either of yours insistence, more because there was a hell of a lot of time spent together. You felt the shift in your positions and it bothered you. Things weren't supposed to change. You flicked the ash from your joint and stared down at your Timberlands. You knocked them together, disposing of the loose dirt starting to cake on them. The spade lying next to your out stretched leg. You ran a finger under your nose, sniffing and wiping away any excess grime.

"Shovel." He rasped from his hole in the ground.

You held the joint between your lips and crouched up, handing the instrument to him. He grabbed it from you and began covering the garbage bags with dirt. You stayed in place, watching as he covered his tracks. This was a job you didn't help with. This was his and only his. You were really only here for moral support. Or as his pack mule, carrying all the equipment. Whichever way you chose to interpret it as. You were still here, at his beck and call. You often wondered how far you'd both extend this weird sense of devotion you felt for one another. You were compelled to one another. Not on the basis of love, but on the basis that you understood each other. An understanding that no one else really accepted. The affection you held for one another was in high regard. One text and you'd both jump to it. Within the hour you'd find him, or him you. That sense of commitment never failed. It was the glue that held you together.

As Happy was finishing up you offered him the joint. He accepted and placed it on the cusp of his mouth, inhaling. He patted down the soft top soil, making sure everything was properly covered and handed the shovel back up to you. You lugged it over your shoulder and stood, turning back towards the truck. He climbed up and over the wall of his man made cliff. You heard as he picked up the remnants of his effects. As you rounded the side of the truck, you dropped the shovel down into the cargo bed. You pulled the passenger side door open and hauled yourself up into the cab. As you shut you door, you heard Happy stowing away his supplies. When he climbed into the driver's seat he passed the joint back to you while simultaneously turning the ignition. You accepted is offer

He drove out of the secluded forest, careful to drive in circles to destroy the tire tracks you'd made to the burial site. You rocked back and forth from the roots protruding from the ground and boulders he constantly drove over. He made it to the small dirt round fairly quick and continued along it to the main highway. He turned onto the two lane road just as the skies opened up and the downpour started. You reached for the window handle and began rolling yours up to save yourself from being soaked. You grabbed the wheel to steady the car as he did the same. The rain wouldn't last long. This was California. It would pour for half an hour max and then stop. Another ten minutes down the road and the rain started letting up. Happy pulled off onto another hidden road and continued to your shared garage. You both kept it meticulous and empty, except for the pickup and a few shovels and garbage bags. Nothing that could ever lead back to either of you.

You hopped out of the cab jogging up to the door and yanked on the rope. Once the door was opened to knee level you bent and shoved it up, turning back to the truck as the garage door settled in the tracks. You moved off to the side allowing him to pull in and park. He turned the truck off and stepped down. You leaned over the edge of the back, pulling the two shovels out, hanging them on the rack on the far wall while Happy rolled up the extra bags and stowed them away in the small cupboard in the back. Once everything was put away, Hap hung the keys up on the hook by the back door and met you at the edge of the front. You were staring out into the darkness, enjoying the rain while you could. You didn't mind rain. You found it comforting. At Happy's approach you held out the joint, waiting for him to kill the rest of it. He plucked in from your fingers, enjoying the last little bits while the two of you stared off into the distance, waiting out the rain.

It didn't take long for the downpour to subside into a light trickling. Happy took one last toke and then flicked the burnt out roach into the nearest puddle. Once the rain stopped completely, only the left over wetness dripping from the trees did either of you move. You both reached for the lip of the garage door and pulled it down. As it crashed down into place, you locked it, tugging on the rope to ensure that it was indeed locked.

"There's a party tonight." He informed you.

You nodded your head, "Alright."

You retreated through the back door to where his Harley and your Challenger were parked safely hidden behind trees and leaves. Happy grumbled at the minute wetness of his Harley, but overall it looked fine. If he'd been expecting the rain, he would've parked inside the garage. You slipped into your blacked out Challenger and followed after Hap as he pulled out in front of you, proceeding down the lane.

~(xXx)~
So just pop a couple bands with a n**** like me
Loving ain't the same with a n****like me
You use to them but ain't no loving me
I hear what you would say and, girl, it's clear to see
You should just drink a couple drinks with a n****like me
You probably go insane with a n****like me
Let's just party till we can't, ain't no loving me
And I'm the one to blame, ain't no loving me
So don't come looking for love
~(xXx)~

As soon as you hit the highway, Happy revved on the throttle and you soared close behind him. You were both pushing 90 MPH but neither of you cared. You reached over and pushed the power button on your sound system, turning the volume up. The bass around you pounded and you caught the tilt to Happy's head when he registered your music over the roar of his Harley and the wind. You smirked, he was adamant that you were going to make yourself go deaf. Each time he voiced that particular idea you faked not hearing him, frustrating him further. It was fun to get under his skin.

You continued to follow behind him. You didn't need too. You'd been to the clubhouse a few times, you knew where you were going. You thought about the club. Sons of Anarchy. The club knew of you, and you knew of them. Was it in the same capacity as Hap? Not even close. Although you'd been to a few events they'd thrown – at the invitation of Hap. You tried not to spend too much time around them. They garnered too much attention and that was bad for business. You had no idea how Happy managed to keep his reputation as intact as it was. Everyone knew what he did, yet he'd never been picked up on any charges related to his job. Sometimes you wanted to ask, but figured it was best to not know. You never wanted to have that kind of spotlight. Safe was how you played it and being low key was the safest bet. The club did make the mistake of requesting your services once. Neither you nor Happy were please with that. You denied them. Told them they had their own means for addressing those types of They never called on you again. It was a violation of your terms. You didn't work for them. You were a free agent. From that point on you hadn't been on entirely friendly terms with them. You couldn't care less. They weren't your friends. You were only there for Happy. They'd take to dubbing you Happy's lackey. It was far from the truth. You were both independent in the business. They even tried to convince others that you were his protégé. Another wrong choice of wording. He wasn't your mentor. More like a partner in crime. As cliché as it sounded.

You thought back to when you first met. It was a scene reminiscent of the one you just left behind. You were covering your own tracks, in a wooded area he frequented as well. While you were digging up a burial site, you happened upon some of his previous work. He showed up shortly after your discovery and there was a tense standoff between you. You both reached for your concealed weapons. That was the night that you learned you had the upper hand to him. He had the physical endurance that powered over yours, but your agility was enough to test his limits. You managed to hop out of the pit you were in and press your Glock to his temple before he was able to reach you. He was the one to crack first. Without a word, he picked up the shovel he brought with him and jumped down into the pit. He began helping you dig a little further away from his spot. Side by side you disposed of most recent hit. You exchanged numbers and then parted ways. It wasn't until a couple weeks later that you heard from him again. You met him at the coordinates he gave you and together you buried another job. It went on like that for months, until finally you invited over for a drink. You were extending the olive branch, get to know the man.

It wasn't long after that that you struck up an odd friendship. You both took each other quickly. Neither of you big on talking. Despite the regular radio silence between the two of you, you managed to discuss techniques, specialties and stomping grounds. He admitted to being surprised that he'd never heard of you. You laughed and reminded him that meant it's been a job well done. By making it seem like nothing happened, people could never question your profession. You worked out this routine where you both helped one another out with disposing of the work. You never crossed one another on the field but you always kept note of what the other was up too. You even had this huge chart on the wall in your closet that had a list of each kill; yours and his. It was like a competition. Always trying to outdo the other. He started coming over more frequently, regaling you with his most recent jobs. You delved deep into the stories, sharing your most intimate jobs, and even your first kills. Once the trust had been established between the two of you, you were more open with him. What started as a purely business relationship turned into a partners with benefits situation. You honestly couldn't remember who jumped who first. You did remember that it was in a back alley, outside a bar. It carried on back to your house after that. From that day on he became a regular in your life. Sometimes he was home before you got there. Nothing changed between the two of you. The only difference was now you were having sex.

That circled back around to your earlier thoughts of the night. You may not be in love with the man, but you cared for him. He was more than just a booty call. He may have his own house in Charming but that didn't stop him from crashing at yours most nights. His clothes mixed with yours to the point that you rearranged your closet and drawers to accommodate for his growing collection. There was never a load of laundry that you did without something of his within the pile. There was never a blood stain of his ever left unattended. You felt a little bit like a married couple. You both attended to one another. His cleanliness rivaled yours and the house was always done over more than necessary. You began to daze out of reality and swerved a bit on the road. You sprang back into action, overcorrecting and skidding back into the lane. Happy glancing over his shoulder at the squeal of your tires. You shook you head from side to side and rolled the kinks out of your neck. Now wasn't the time to get lost in your thoughts.

~(xXx)~
Shawty, if you looking for somebody tryna settle down
Probably won't be around, nah, baby
You should hit me when you tired of playing up in the house
And ain't nobody around
You need that
When you need that late night
We can both make love to the daylight
You got it, girl, you got it, girl
But you know I can't stay right? Uh nah babe
All I want is you so what you tryna do?
~(xXx)~

You pulled into the TM compound behind Happy and heads turned as you approached. Sons and crows alike stared as you turned off the ignition. You knew why they were staring. The bass from your music overpowered their speakers. They were drawn to the noise and surprised to see that it was you climbing out from behind the wheel of your car. You had that effect on people. They never expected to see someone like you. Happy met you at your door and shook his head, a small lift to his lips. You rolled your eyes, smirking and together you walked up to the clubhouse door.

You both went for the bar first, getting a drink and lounging on the stools. You gazed around the room, taking a swig from your beer bottle and noticed the game of pool starting up. You hopped off your chair and sauntered over. Kozik greeted you with a smile and handed an extra pool cue to you. You accepted and the two of you bent down, assessing your competition. Jax and Juice. Jax eyed you warily, sparing a glance over at Happy. You ignored his blatant distrust of you and took the first shot.

You passed the time nursing the one beer and hustling almost every single one of the guys in pool. Their obvious disdain for you growing. You laughed internally at their petty behaviour but didn't care too much. You had just pocketed over five hundred bucks from them. You lost track of Happy a while ago, but that wasn't an issue. Most times he was in the ring fighting someone, or drinking with a few of is brothers. You decided to break away from the game, tossing the pool cue back at Koz and wadding through the open sexual acts back to the bar. You handed your empty to the prospect who in turn handed you another cold bottle. You nodded you head in acceptance and spun around. You leaned back against the bar when your eyes zeroed in on Happy's bald head. You clenched your teeth together.

There crawling into his lap was one of the crow eaters. You couldn't even call what she was doing sitting. The woman was rubbing her body against his. Grinding her pelvis into his. You blinked. This was the first time he'd disregarded you so fully. You knew about the crows and you knew they offered themselves up like a platter to the Sons. What you never accounted for was that Happy was waist deep in them…. And you. You breathed in. Happy's arms constricted around the blonde's waist and he hoisted her up. He readjusted himself in his pants and you nostrils flared. Disrespect that's what this all chalked up too. He slung a hand around her shoulders as he began to lead her towards the dorm rooms.

As they passed you heard the crow question him, "What about that chick you came in with?"

He bowed in closer to her, unaware of your close proximity, "Don't worry about her. She's not important."

Rage rippled through your entire being. Was that how he spoke of you when you weren't around? After years of being his confident, the only other person he's met that understands his joy of killing? You flicked your fingers together, the sound of your nails clacking against one another. You hand twitched towards the knife holster hidden underneath your shirt. You were fast enough to catch him off guard. Maybe a nice deep gash down his chest would complement the one he was bringing to bed with him. Nope. This wasn't worth it. You let go of your beer and pushed off of the bar. With your head held high, you strut out of the clubhouse, wad of cash bulging out of your pocket. You patted a hand against it. At least tonight wasn't completely useless. You stalked across the parking lot and got into your car. He'd notice you absence eventually. When he came up for air. You wondered if tonight would be another night he crawled back into your bed. In sick joy you hoped so. Only to satisfy your pleasure of kicking him out.

~(xXx)~
August you know, I'm here to save you
Me and them girls, we ain't the same, boo
You know I hate it, when you leave me
'Cause you love it then you leave it
But you know how bad I need it
You're so fuckin' conceited
Why you coming over weeded
~(xXx)~

You felt his body slip under the covers next to you. You remained still, concentrating on your breathing. You kept it steady so as to not alert him to your awakened state. You weren't feeling up to a confrontation. You knew he saw you leave. If it took him this long to come after you than it was obvious that he didn't care. You laid completely still for another half an hour. You listened and his breath evened out and when you were certain he'd fallen asleep, you rolled off the mattress without a sound. You crept across you room and slipped around the adjacent door. Once you were down the hall you let out a breath. You continued down the stairs and to the front hall closet. You pulled out your duffel of guns and hauled it over your shoulder, carrying it over to the dining room. There you sat down and began unloading the few Glocks and revolvers that you had. You pulled out the thick table cloth and laid it across the table. From there you disassembled each firearm, laying out their intricate pieces in order of reassembly.

You zoned out, working out your frustrations with the simple tasks of polishing and cleaning. It probably wasn't that much later when you heard his heavy footfalls coming down the stairs. You swore to yourself. He was just as clever as you were. He must have known you were still awake and played your own game against you. He brushed past you and sat down at the other end of the table. You finished polishing the hilt of the firearm in your hands before looking up to meet his glare. The two of you stared at one another. He could sense the anger rolling off you in waves. You narrowed your eyes as he leaned back in his chair, waiting. You ground your teeth together, gearing up for the ultimate showdown.

"I'm not some run of the mill side chick." You glared.

He arched one eyebrow, "I never said you were."

You shook your head, "You didn't need to. Actions speak louder than words."

He crossed his arms at your response, "What are you trying to say?"

Your nostrils flared. He was being difficult on purpose. He was trying to get you to admit to being in love with him. Little did he know that that was far from the case.

You licked your lips and repeated his words from earlier in the night, "Don't worry about her… She's not important."

He recoiled from the venom in your words. You picked up the first few pieces of your cleaned firearm and locked them together. His eyes never left your hands as he registered the anger radiating through you.

"What exactly is that you're looking for here?" He demanded.

You popped bullet after bullet into the chamber, sliding it back into the gun, flipped the safety off and cocked it. You glared at him and rolled your eyes when you noticed the stubborn line to his lips. He was concerned over that four letter word. What the hell was it with that word that made people scramble like idiots?

"I'm not asking you to love me, Hap." You scoffed, "I'm asking you to treat me with some goddamned respect!" His eyes flashed as you yelled but you didn't let up, "I'm not some piece of clothing you can toss aside when you're feeling to try on something new. I'm a fucking human."

He gulped at your comparison. You saw the steel resolve in his body language but the heat in his eyes gave him away. He hadn't counted on you hearing his comment. Which infuriated you further. How many times had he said things like that before? Did he really think that little of you? Why the fuck would he continue to sleep in your bed then. Where you just his goddamned meal ticket?

You sighed and ran your fingers across your forehead, "It's an easy fix Hap. Either we acknowledge that there's something here between us. Or be both walk away, wash our hands clean of whatever we're doing."

He remained still, assessing the gravity of your ultimatum.

"I'm done with playing the housewife. If you want other women at no cost, that's perfectly fine but you can't keep me on call at the same time." You inhaled, "I'm going back to bed. I don't care where you sleep tonight, as long as it isn't in my bed."

You folded the table cloth over the still disassembled guns and then rolled it up tightly packing it away in your bag. You hoisted the bag up and carried it through your house, up the stairs and laid out at the bottom of your bed. To add emphasis to your last statement, you kicked the door shut behind you and crawled back into your bed. You buried your face in your pillow and took a deep breath. You inhaled his scent and groaned. Of course you grabbed the pillow from his side. You flipped over to your other side, tossing his pillow across the room. You didn't need his lingering presence clouding your judgement at this moment.

~(xXx)~
You can't treat me like you treat them
Yes, I am the crème de la crème
Yes I am from one to ten, ten
You fronting in them streets, keep saying we just friends
You can't front like this ain't way realer
I know you hard, I know that you a killer
I know you started off a dope dealer
But let your guard down, your n****s know you feel her, feel her
So what you want, baby?
~(xXx)~

You woke up alone in your bed. You weren't surprised seeing as you kicked Happy out last night. You tore the sheets off your body and sat up. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and rolled your neck. Your body was tense from the stress of your argument last night. You grabbed a pair of yoga shorts and an oversized men's tank top. You jogged on the spot for a minute. Tying your hair up and out of your face. You sped over to the door way and sprang up, curling your hands around the pull up bar you had positioned there. You commenced with your daily workout routine, 100 pull-ups, 100 push ups and 100 sit ups. It was simple but it kept you active and alert. Once you were finished you skipped down the stairs, heading for the kitchen to get something to drink. As you reached the bottom stair your gaze was drawn towards a wrapped gift sitting on the end table by the front door. You glanced around, flicking you gaze to the holster underneath that table. You could see the hilt of your gun. Nothing seemed out of place. You advanced towards the package, leaning in and listening intently. No noise. There was only one person who came and went from your house freely so you could only assume he was the one to leave it.

You picked up the box and noted the small card stuck underneath the silver ribbon. All that was written on it was your name. It was in his messy scrawl and you let out a breath of relief. You tucked the gift under your arm and made you way back to the kitchen. You laid the package down on the counter and turned towards the refrigerator. You grabbed the nearest water bottle. You spun back around and stared at the decent sized gift. You were trying to figure out why he would bother to get you anything. You still hadn't ruled out that it was set up. Bombs weren't his M.O. but it was entirely possible that he would resort to such a statement after last night's battle. You downed another gulp of freezing cold water.

"Fuck it." You murmured.

You'd lived decent life. If this was how it ended, that wasn't too bad. At least you'd go out with a bang. You pulled the nearest cooking knife out of the wooden block and sliced through the flimsy ribbon. You pulled the top of the box up and tossed it down beside you.

"Shit." You murmured, picking up the brand new semi-automatic.

You weren't surprised that he remembered. You told him a little while ago the model that you were desperately searching for. These models were banned everywhere. How he found it was a feat you'd need to get him to divulge but in this moment you settled for being in awe. As you fingers ran along the cool metal you noted the absence of a serial number. You chuckled. What was the saying? Birds of a feather flock together? Damn, there was no way you could stay mad at him. He knew you too well. While you admired the new gun, your house phone rang. You sidestepped over to the charger and picked up the cordless.

"Y/N speaking." You answered.

It was his rasp on the other end but it echoed throughout your house, "That the one you were looking for?"

Your eyes snapped up and you found him standing in the entrance to your kitchen. His mouth was pulled into one of his rare smiles.

You arched an eyebrow at him, "You think buying me pretty things is going to get you back in my good graces."

He let out a huff of a laugh and strode across the room to stand in front of you. One hand reached out and his finger ran along the inside of your arm, down to your hand. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of the gun and pried it from your grasp. He laid it out on the counter and his fingers ran back up your arm, coupled with his other hand and skimmed down your sides. His hands connected behind you, lying flat on the lower half of your back. He tugged you towards him, running his nose along your jawline starting from your chin.

He blew lightly on your ear and whispered, "You're not my side chick."

You smiled. It wasn't the apology you were looking for but it was damn near close enough. He was a man of little words and simple gestures. The fact that he found you a banned and rare gun meant something. It meant that he thought out about you enough to remember topics brought up in passing. You weren't sure where this left the two of you, but at least for today you could let his slip up slide. You were going to be clear with him – no other women if he wanted to pursue you. You were done being his booty call, and treating him like one too.