Neon is the Colour of Vengeance (Flappers and False Gods)

MATTIAS

Bone fusion was excruciating, but worth it. Nine days after the Jonk accident, Hugo was up and walking, even if it was with a slight limp. Having agreed to use a slender cane for a week or two, he had been released the previous evening.

He had seen Samuel twice in that time. Once, when he visited him at Medicorum to check he was alright and tell him that Jack had died, and a second time a few days later when Hugo had been feeling better to give him an earful for being sloppy. Hugo, for his part, had kept his cool. Despite the burning hatred he felt towards his father, he had managed not to act on it. Samuel had swallowed his lies about how Jack had fallen from the limo and seemed not to notice as Hugo’s eyes darted to his gun.

The only person he hadn’t managed to deceive was Bobby. They watched him like a hawk whenever he was in Borden Tower and kept their gun close at hand. But Bobby needn’t have worried—they would be dead before Samuel.

He had been careful to avoid Alice. The bloody blade he kept with him at all times was a reminder of what she was capable of and what she had done. Mixed with her continuous advances and suggestions that he find another man to ‘play’ with, he could barely contain his rage. His hatred for her was all-consuming. The distance, however, seemed to be driving her mad and making her seek him out.

The night after he had returned home, Hugo was lying on the rug in the living room of his ransacked apartment, a bottle of bourbon in hand. He couldn’t stomach the thought of sleeping in the bed he had shared with Evan and had planned on drinking himself to sleep right there amongst the debris, when he heard a knock at the door.

Grudgingly, he got to his feet, slipping on the remnants of the coffee table as he teetered tipsily towards the door. It opened before he could reach it, limping as he was.

Alice sauntered into the room in a white gown that looked like a wedding dress. Her crystalline eyes alight with malice.

“Oh dear,” she said, glancing around the apartment disinterestedly. “What a mess.”

Hugo stood stock still. His mind whirring, his body shaking. To have her there, back in the destruction she had created was too much to bear. He couldn’t speak. Murder was coursing through his veins.

“Come in,” she called over her shoulder.

“I will k—” His words died in his throat. At her utterance a man entered the apartment nervously. He was handsome in the extreme, Black, with a high-top fade and full lips. His eyes were breathtakingly green, but Hugo could tell they were contact lenses. It didn’t matter though. It was enough.

“What do you think?” Alice grinned at Hugo, gesturing to the man.

It was like his brain had shorted out. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe.

“Sam thought you might need some cheering up, so he told me to bring you a gift. He’s worried you aren’t on your game. That was quite the fuck up with Jack, and just after we lost Tallow…can’t afford many more of those.”

“Sam told you to bring him here?” He couldn’t look at the man.

“Well, not him specifically. He just said to find you a treat. He’s your type, isn’t he?”

Hugo felt like he was paralysed. Half of him wanted to kill her there and then and the other wanted to fall to pieces.

“Everyone thinks you’re fine,” she said in a sing-song voice. “You keep saying it, so prove it. Show me that your little fling was just that. Show me you’re still a company man. Push me up against a wall and choke me.”

Hugo just stared at her. This was payback for all his slights.

“His name is Matthias, but he’ll answer to Evan if you want him to. Go on, show Hugo a good time. If he isn’t too drunk to get it up, that is.”

The part that wanted to crumble faded away. Everything in Hugo wanted to tear her apart. She was showing a cruelty that even he had not thought her capable of. Tormenting him like this…but that was just it, wasn’t it? She was testing him, apparently on Samuel’s orders.

It took everything Hugo had not to strike, not to give into the roaring in his chest. If he acted now, he would never get a chance at Samuel. The entire Conti Family would hunt him down. Instead, he stood up straighter and forced his face into a grin.

Matthias unbuttoned his shirt as he walked past Alice to Hugo. When he was within reach, Hugo grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a brutal kiss. Matthias moaned appreciatively into his mouth. Hugo reached a hand between them and squeezed. Another pleasurable groan. He broke away to look at Alice. “Are you going to watch or…?”

“Are you offering?”

“Shut the door on your way out.” He recaptured Matthias’s lips with enthusiasm and pulled his shirt from his shoulders.

Looking satisfied, Alice turned and left.

As soon as the door snapped shut, Hugo pushed the man away from him and stepped back. He dragged his hand over his mouth as if to wipe off the kiss.

“What’s the matter?” Matthias said, his voice full of lust.

“Here,” Hugo pulled out his wallet and threw a wad of credits at the man. “Tell her we fucked and get out.”

“She’s not forcing me to be here. You’re hot.” Matthias closed the distance between them and tried to pull Hugo back into his embrace. The thought of his touch made Hugo feel sick.

“Get the fuck away from me.” It was almost a sob.

“Take it easy…” Matthias put a hand on Hugo’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.”

Before he knew what he was doing, he had Matthias by the throat, his fingers forming a deadly necklace. Matthias spluttered and choked, fear filling his eyes as he tried to wrench Hugo’s hands from him.

All Hugo could see was Evan. Matthias looked like Evan. His grip slackened, and he let go, his eyes burning. Matthias dropped to the floor coughing.

“Tell her we fucked.”

Matthias nodded as he scrambled to his feet. “Whatever you say, man.”

“Get out and don’t ever come back here.”

Matthias scooped the credits quickly from the ground then ran from the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

He had looked like Evan, by design. Alice had wanted to torture Hugo, and she had succeeded. He could still taste the man on his lips. He retched and dropped to his knees, vomiting on the cold wooden floor. It was almost clear and composed nearly entirely of alcohol. He retched again, his stomach straining, but there was nothing left to purge. Hugo reached for the discarded bottle of booze to get the taste out of his mouth.

He drank and drank until oblivion took him, promising himself with the tiny part of his mind that was still lucid, that when he awakened, he would take up the hunt anew.