The burger was too rare. The mozzarella sticks were too cooked. The coke wasn’t diet. The gin didn’t have enough tonic. The tequila had a hair in it. Abe marched up to the table, carrying a glass of brandy, his hands shaking from barely contained rage. He was beyond furious. Jericho had once stolen his favorite teddy bear and cut off its head, and he’d been angry enough to cut hole in all of his underwear. Abe was way past that now. The worst part was that Amadeus and Ty were joking about him the whole time.

He approached the table, holding out the glass of brandy. Amadeus leaned back against the back of the chair, his tongue darting to the corner of his mouth. “You're handy for my brandy.”

Abe held it out, counting inside of his head, trying hard to think of things besides mowing him over with his car and burying him in his backyard. “Here.”

“Oh, this won’t do.” Amadeus didn’t take the drink. Wrinkling his nose, he regarded it as if it was piss in a cup. Abe had been tempted, but no, Olivia was keeping too close of an eye on him. “This brandy isn’t high enough quality.”

Back when he actually had time to breathe, Abe had fancied true crime shows. He’d heard the narrator use the term “snapped” a lot, and he had never fully understood it until that moment. As Amadeus mocked him, he bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood, but that was not enough. In front of Olivia, in front of the whole damn club, Abe tilted the glass and dumped the whole tumbler of brandy on Amadeus’s perfectly blond head.

The entire club went silent. Even Honey, the dancer, stopped twerking. The color drained out of Amadeus’s face, and Abe was pleased for a moment, before he realized he was probably going to be beat up again. Oh well. He was pissed enough he’d get a few good punches in.

Ty burst into laughter, not even bothering to hide it behind his hand, and Amadeus shot him a look so dirty it needed a laundromat.

Amadeus stood up, seized his arm, and dragged him across the club, even though Abe dug his heels in and fought with everything he was worth. The guy pulled him out the back door and into the deserted alley where the word ‘pussy’ had been graffitied on the wall in pink. The smell of pee hung in the air, the perfume of the homeless man who spent his nights by the dumpster.

“Let go of me, you asshole.” Abe ripped his arm out of his grasp.

Though he had released his arm, Amadeus seized him again in a millisecond. Abe shoved him, and Amadeus shoved him back, hard, and his back hit the cold brick wall.

Now Abe had no idea who moved first, or who moved on who, but rough lips landed on rough lips. Teeth clattered together. Lips melded sloppily. Abe, still fighting the other guy on some level, bit his lip, even while pushing himself against him.

Amadeus pressed him harder against the wall, cupping his jaw.

Abe gasped, and Amadeus used the opportunity to slip his tongue between his lips, exploring the roof of his mouth. Amadeus pressed himself against him as if trying to meld them together, and Abe felt that familiar volcano inside of him, then heat in his pants.

What’s happening to me? He had kissed Katie loads of times, but he had never reacted like this. Everywhere Amadeus touched was fire. He was burning, burning up inside and outside, yet he wanted more, more, more.

He pressed his mouth harder against Amadeus’s, then ran his hands up his back, marveling at the muscles, the strength. Amadeus was so different from Katie, and already he felt stiffening in his pants, just like in his dreams. Amadeus ran his hand down his torso, feeling the muscles. Counterintuitively, Abe was so hot he shivered, longing for his hands, his mouth, his cock to explore lower.

Amadeus dragged his lips away from Abe’s mouth only to lay kisses along the day-old growth of his jaw. Slowly, the other guy kissed his way down his Adam's apple, stopping to bite at the nape of his neck, and Abe felt like the other man’s lips spread magma. He had no idea how long they could have gone or how far they could have gone because a burst of a woman’s high-pitched laughter broke the spell. The smell of urine was back. The alcohol dripping from Amadeus’s head was back. The hatred was back.

Abe, feeling like he’d just sold his first-born child to Beelzebub, shoved him away. “Don’t touch me.”

Not saying a word, Amadeus held up his hands and stepped back. He looked pale, just as pale as Abe must have been. The back door opened, and Olivia stuck her head out. “You two haven’t killed each other, have you?”

Both of them stared at each other. Abe finally shook his head.

“Good.” Olivia motioned for him to come inside. “You need to get back to work.”

Abe hurried back inside, determined to ignore Amadeus. He needn’t have worried—Amadeus disappeared for the rest of the night.