Ceaseless Chains Copyright © 2020 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Chapter posted - July 24, 2020

Thank you Soph for the banner <3 I tried making an Oliver aesthetic but obvi I'm not as talented - nonetheless, there's ^ what you can expect from him (: Still no update on EB - feeling kinda low. But I had this chapter pre-written so please enjoy. x

Playlist Song: Drake ft. Jhene Aiko - From Time

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

C H A P T E R   4

Oliver

Every time a girl sashayed away, if there were guys in the vicinity, her ass was bound to get checked out.

My co-workers were no different, making comments when Teagan was no longer in earshot.

While I knew she had a nice ass – and clearly her genetics and hard work honed it – that's not what snagged my attention.

It was the full set of gold bangles adorning her wrists, the ones my mother had gifted her when we were teens.

My mother loved those with all her heart and deemed Teagan gracious enough to have them. Two things both women had in common? Their love for cooking and hoarding jewelry.

Seeing Teagan cherishing something my late mother had given her even 'til this day warmed my heart – I was man enough to admit it.

I was pulled out of my reverie when Elliott joined me, blowing out a puff of cigarette. "Goddamn, she's hot. Don't even get me started on that voice."

I didn't say anything. Just stared where she left.

"I wonder where she's from? Looked Latina if you ask me."

There he went fetishizing again. I was sure all the guys on the crew knew Elliott's porn preferences at this point. "Her parents are European and Middle-Eastern – Iranian, to be specific."

"You seem to know a lot about her," Elliott remarked meaningfully. "I saw you talking to her earlier."

"–Yes, do tell, Oliver." Mickey crept up on us, joining his workers outside for a quick smoke. "How exactly do you know her?"

He pulled a lighter from his fancy suit pocket, tucked a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He took a drag and regarded me pointedly.

Mickey Alvarez was a mean sonofabitch – no more than his father, Javier Alvarez. I'd been working under him for nearly two years now and, while I didn't trust him, Mickey did trust me.

Or, my judgement, at the very least.

When Teagan's CV had come in, I'd pressed Maria – his speakeasy assistant manager – to urge Mickey because I knew she'd be exactly what 1001 Nights' lounge was lacking: a sultry voice to give the bar an edge.

Similar to a luring siren's call, Teagan had enchanted them all. Not that I ever had a doubt.

Just like I couldn't deny our past history, I couldn't deny the girl's undeniable talent. Despite all of it, I figured she deserved a chance.

However, I didn't know she got a call back or that her audition was today. I must have been too distracted with work when Maria mentioned it. That's why I was surprised to see her face.

"She's a childhood friend," I answered Mickey truthfully. "She's solid and reliable; I think she'll be good for this place."

"Hmm." Mickey flicked the butt of his cigarette and fixed his suit once more. "She's got balls. You need that to work here. Good voice, too–"

"Good? I thought she was fucking amazing," Alessandro, my co-worker who worked security in the speakeasy portion, slid up to us.

Mickey smirked. "Yeah. I'm considering her. Harvard background's got nothing to do with this job, but I liked her. Might have her come in for a trial night."

He pushed off the building, menacing scowl back in place, back in business mode. "Finish your smokes; I want you all up in less than ten. I don't pay for you men to fucking loiter around."

Alessandro rolled his eyes after him and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "One of these days I'm going to fucking quit and spit on his face."

Elliott barked a laugh. "And what? Go back to New York and join your so-called family business?"

Alessandro glared at Elliott, but I knew it wasn't all that jokingly. "Shut it, Symanski."

Alessandro had started working at 1001 Nights around the same time that our old lead singer – Ava Marino – had joined the crew. I knew very little about his personal life or what his family did. Not that I cared to pry into it. The only thing we knew was his family was obscenely rich and that they were a touchy subject.

Elliott put out his cigarette. "Make me, Corsetti."

The ribbing went on for a minute more before we noticed people beginning to merge on the strip.

We made our way back in, almost igniting Mickey's temper tantrum for arriving twenty seconds too late.

Of course, the bastard always counted.

* * *

Closing could be gruelling. Fortunately, week nights were never so bad.

I just finished escorting the last bunch of drunken cougars down the stairs. One of them had smiled suggestively and even propositioned me. She was attractive enough and, if she hadn't been inebriated, I might have considered it.

Mickey had hired me for my bulk, same as Alessandro, who's responsibilities were solely that of a bouncer. I, on the other hand, was his third-key, but I did a variety of things. Security, cleaning, working behind the bar and occasionally helping Maria with closing paperwork. I also managed the whole place on the odd day where Mickey and Maria were both absent.

Tonight, Maria seemed frustrated, finding herself slapping bills and coins harder than necessary on the wooden bar top, a frown marring her face.

I went over to her. "What's wrong, mamacita?" I teased.

She wiped her forehead. "Nothing. Just nothing."

I placed my hand over hers and moved it away. "Let me count the cash."

She let me, retreating to fill herself a glass of water.

"What's up with you?" I asked her, counting exactly $307.35. "You've been stressed all night."

"Maybe I'm PMSing," she snapped, so unlike her. But she recovered quickly. Maria and I had a good camaraderie, even though she was ten years my senior. "I'm sorry, mi amor. You're right. I'm just in a bad mood."

"S'all good," I told her, then added with a smile, "Being at this place for nine years can do that to you, Maria. Telling you, girl. You need to leave and find something better."

Mickey was at the far corner of the room, barking orders into his phone. Maria shot him a look of longing, the same one she'd been giving him from the first moment I started here.

I never knew what she saw in him. Maria was shit at hiding her feelings from everyone, except from Mickey. He was oblivious. But we all knew about it.

Elliott mopped the floor next to us. "He's right, ."

By now, Maria was used to our compliments. Especially Elliott because he flirted with anything on two legs. However, Elliott and I were her personal cheerleaders and she knew this.

We were modern men. We believed in woman empowerment. Definitely when it meant getting out of this shithole of a place and doing better for yourself.

She laughed. "Stop it, you guys."

I leaned back against the counter, my knuckles on either side. "What does a pretty girl like yourself see in a craggy motherfucker like Mickey?"

"First of all, I'm a 32-year-old woman. Not girl. Second of all, none of your concern, boys."

"Give me one night and I'll have you over him forever, babe," Elliott chimed in helpfully.

Maria blew him a kiss, after shooting a rag towel at his face. "You're too young for me. Now, why don't you finish cleaning up so we can all get the hell out of here, eh?"

I snickered as she left us.

Elliot whistled. "I seriously don't get it. She could do so much better than him, yet she pines away for him. He's never noticed her and never will."

I shrugged.

"Love works in funny ways," he says.

Ain't that the truth.

* * *

The following afternoon, I headed towards my grandparents house on my day off. I'd been summoned by them last night.

I killed the ignition when I parked in the driveway of my dad's childhood home. Because I could never arrive empty-handed, my passenger side was loaded with a box of fresh Indian samosas – my mom's favorite delicacy. Admittedly, mine and my little brother's as well.

Seeing my grandparents always took a toll on me, mentally. But they were all I had left, and I loved them despite their old age and slightly bitter attitude.

I rang the doorbell once, my game-face perfectly poised into position.

My grandfather opened the front door with a loud creak, and I made a mental note to oil the hinges before I left. "Oliver."

"Grandpa." Brian Ashford Sr. had lost a bit of height and curved from bad bones over the years. Yet he was still imposing as ever, even with his receding hairline and navy-blue terrycloth robe.

"You're late," he informed me, like every other week. "Ruth and Grayson are waiting for you."

"Thanks. I'm doing great. You too, I hope." I clapped him on the back for good measure.

He huffed in displeasure behind me. Of course, it stemmed from my 'bad life choices', according to him.

Weekly reminder: I was still a disappointment to him.

"Oh, Oliver." My grandma's face lit up as she walked over to me when I entered the kitchen. "My goodness." She paused when I almost enveloped her in my arms. "You haven't shaved, and your hair is still long. You look barbaric."

And she was theatrical, a trait Grayson nor I had inherited, thankfully. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I pulled her in for a strong one, laying a kiss on her hairline. "Hi, Grammie."

We swayed for a minute, before she sat me at her kitchen table and started force feeding me.

"Oh...you brought samsams again."

"Samosas, Ruthie," I corrected, for the hundredth time. My grandparents liked to shun my mother's half Indian heritage, and maybe that's why I grasped onto it so strongly. "Me and Grayson enjoy them."

She harrumphed and went to fix me a glass of lemonade and some homemade poutine.

My grandfather entered the kitchen with his cane. He kissed his wife, before wobbling over to take a seat beside me.

"Have you made a decision?" he asked.

Jesus. Not this bullshit again.

"Leave him alone." My grandma jumped to my defense, bringing me over a plate with all her offerings. "He's young."

"At his age, I had my life together."

"I'm twenty-two," I hissed.

"Exactly." My grandfather had the gall to look smug. "So figure it out. You've been out of school for nearly a year now, working those odd jobs."

I slammed my fist against the table, jerking the cutlery and glassware. "You had a heart attack a year and a half ago. I quit school to help you, Grayson, and Grandma. I gave you my all."

I sacrificed my schooling and mental health for the family.

He shrugged like it was no biggie. "That was then, and this is now, boy. I've recovered and you need to resume your life."

"I can't. I've decided my heart wasn't in biology, and I'm not wasting a single penny towards a tuition for something I don't even see myself doing in the future."

"So you'd rather do nothing at all besides work construction during the summer and manage that godforsaken bar?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I needed time to figure shit out. I don't know what I want yet."

"Haven't you had enough time?"

I glared at him, barely repressing my contempt. "Get off my back. I work hard, I drive a nice car, my bills are paid on time and I've just put a down payment for a condo."

He scoffed, laughing at me rudely at what I deemed were my accomplishments. "Yes, a condominium with a girlfriend who dropped off the face of the earth. Really successful, Oliver. Your parents would have been proud." He shook his head. "No wonder Inga left you."

Rage boiled inside of me...then spilled over.

I pushed off the table with a rough sound and my grandma shrieked. My grandfather only winced.

It had been more than three and a half months since she'd left me, and I'd been doing great at mended my pieces back together. Now he had to go and throw her in my face.

I was sick of this bullshit. Sick of burdening disappointment and listening to weekly insults. Sick of everyone reminding me of Inga while I was practically over the bitch.

"I'm going to go see Grayson," I grated through clenched teeth, fuming. "After that, I'm leaving and I won't be coming back for a while. Give my brother an excuse or tell him the truth. Either way, I don't care. I'm tired of you guys disrespecting me and breathing down my neck like I'm your child – I'm not. My parents are dead, and you aren't their replacement. So don't act like it."

I left their shocked faces as I bounded up the stairs to my brother's hideout.

* * *

Like a typical teenage boy, everything was a filthy mess in his room.

My little brother sat in a whirlwind pool of dirty strewn clothes and opened bags of snacks, his ass parked on a chair as he played with his gaming console.

He only jolted when I kicked his door shut, removing his headset to peer at me in surprise.

"Hi, Prem." When my grandparents weren't around, I always addressed him by his middle name.

"Abhay," he grinned at me, doing the same. "What's up?"

"Nothing much."

I went over to hug my baby brother with an arm, before dropping on his bed.

"I brought you these." I handed him the box of samosas.

"Sweet!" he fist pumped the air and dived for one, before handing me another.

I tore into the snack with more cleanliness than him, surveying my surroundings once more as I chewed. "Christ, Prem. Your room's a disgusting mess. You need to start cleaning more."

"After I get past this level," he mumbled, eyes glued to the screen.

I tried to remember if I'd been this obsessed with videogames growing up. To an extent, perhaps. But I felt like Trent, Jared, Quentin, and I had been more rebellious, sneaking out to vagabond like idiots throughout the days and nights.

While Grayson shouted commands into his headpiece, I began opening his window to allow fresh air. Against my better judgement, I started picking up discarded chip bags and juice boxes to throw away.

Grudgingly, he stopped his game and joined me in tidying up his room. It took a total of fifteen minutes, before we sat together on his matchbox sized bed and finished the rest of the samosas.

"Abhay," he started, looking nervous. His recently deepened voice – courtesy of puberty – shook a little. "I've been thinking of something."

"Shoot." I wiped my fingers on a napkin.

"What if I came and lived with you?"

My face pinched. Dammit. While he used to ask me all the time, those requests stopped two years ago.

I schooled my expression into neutral territory. "Where is this coming from?"

Grayson's Adam's apple bobbed. "Well, I know...I know you were supposed to live with Inga in the new place you bought, and I don't want to bring her up for obvious reasons, but... Maybe I can come live with you instead? Now that she's gone. So you don't feel, umm, lonely or anything."

My exhale was loud and strong, charged with emotions I kept locked up.

Grayson quickly rushed. "Please, Oli. We can be a family again."

My shoulders deflated and I reached over for him, tucking him against my chest. "Hey – Gray. We are a family. We will always be a family. Nothing can change that."

"I know," he mumbled. "But I miss how things used to be before you left for college four years ago. I hate how grandpa talks to you now. It makes me so mad."

In a rare display of affection, I kissed his head. He didn't recoil. "It's my business. Don't worry. I can handle him."

"Still," he echoed softly. "I miss having you around, you know. You'll never come live with us again, but I can come to you."

Technically, I was old enough to take him in. But thirteen-year-olds needed stability and parental figures and I couldn't be either.

"Prem, I don't think –"

"What if I only came over every other weekend to stay with you?" he quickly compromised. "Just consider it, Oli."

As an afterthought, he added, "I'm so miserable here. Sometimes it gets so suffocating."

That emotional admission tugged at my heartstrings.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. "I've got two bedrooms and I'm looking for a roommate to help cover the expenses. If I find someone decent enough – someone who I'd feel comfortable having around my little brother – I'm open to the possibility of you sleeping over on certain nights. Okay?"

Grayson grinned so wide my heart almost splintered, suddenly reminding me of how he looked so much like my mother. I could never so no to her; ergo, I could never fully say no to him either.

"I can't wait!" he said, laughing.

"It's not a full yes," I told him, before he got his hopes up. "I still think this is the best place for you. Oh, and no video games at my house. Deal?"

He didn't even hesitate. Didn't bat a single lash. "Deal."

That's when I realized he wasn't kidding about being miserable if he could so easily forgo gaming.

I left my grandparents' house, telling Grayson I would be back for him soon.

I didn't bother oiling the hinges.

As I started my car, a thought drizzled into my head. A new way to solve my Grayson dilemma and give my brother the housing situation and family closeness he craved.

Trent had suggested Teagan as a possible roommate.

While I was getting desperate to find someone to cover the cost – thanks to my fucking ex leaving me in the dust with all the expenses – was Teagan really the solution?

We had history, but I knew her to a certain degree. My whole life counted, right? I knew she was a clean freak, overly organized, and could probably follow rules.

With Gray's request, I felt like I was running out of decent options. Teagan didn't seem like a horrible idea.

I drove home with a fucking headache. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

A/N's: I hope everyone is enjoying their summer and taking advantage of this time, despite Covid19. Be close to your loved ones and don't take anyone for granted! CC may seem to have a 'slow start' but everything really picks up from here. Oli and Tee are sooo close to living together. I'm loving writing about these two. There were a lot of new characters introduced (unlike in EB and BT) so what are your thoughts? How do you feel about Oliver as a character? x

Twitter: MajestyMarzy
Instagram: queenmxrzy

Chapter goal: 300? x