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Neon Moon
chapter seven

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❛ and i don't wanna live that way.
reading into every word you say. ❜
— Somebody That I Used To Know, Gotye

"COME ON IN! YOU HEARD ME, DEVIL DOGS AND BAD BITCHES! COME ON IN FOR THE ALL-YOU-CAN-LICK BUFFET OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL, TASTIEST DELICACIES SOUTH OF THE BORDER!"

Marisol grimaced at the theatrics pouring out of the doorman. The group began to approach the bar. It definitely wasn't somewhere Marisol would have gone on her own, but a drink sounded nice right about then. She looked up at the obscene mascot, arms crossing loosely over her chest.

"I did my part," Jacob shouted over the rumbling engines. "We got you across the border. I'm not taking my children inside." Scott was so awestruck by everything around them. His head whipped in different directions, following the bikers, following the doorman. Marisol smiled briefly before coming back to the conversation.

Seth scoffed. "Fine. You three stay out here with the devil's rejects, have your own little Altamont." He jiggled the keys from his finger, eyes squinted toward the old man. Marisol's eyes narrowed into a harsh glare at the Gecko.

"Lonely, Seth?" she questioned without a thought, lifting her brows at him. He glanced toward her for a moment, a ghost of his infamous smirk shadowing his features. "Never, honey."

"That wasn't the deal," Jacob interrupted the two, taking a step toward the criminal. Seth's eyes lingered on Marisol's before he turned back to the pastor. "No, the deal was that we stick together until Richie and I finish our deal," he argued.

"What help are we?" she asked. "Seriously, what can we do that will help you make your stupid deal?" Seth shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know himself. Instead of answering, he turned back to the Titty Twister and pointed toward the steps. "Coming? Or are you going to take your chances with these guys?"

She uncrossed her arms, choosing to accompany him into the bar. The heat was starting to get to her anyway, and she really wanted a drink. Jacob sighed through his nose, stopping her before she could move. "Please," he begging quietly. "They can't go in there."

"You heard me, devil dogs and bad bitches! Come.. on.. in! We got to pan dulce of every flavor for you! Any way you like it, with all the fillings!"

Marisol offered a sympathetic smile. He had to realize that there was nothing she could do. If she had any power over Seth, they wouldn't be there in that moment. His hand slipped away in defeat. "Just... listen to him. If you don't put up a fight, maybe he'll finally get some common sense and let you guys go."

She hurried after the brothers, feeling naked without her gun. She really wished she had it, especially in a place like this. Seth glanced over his shoulder at the sound of her approaching, the Fuller's coming right after her. A proud, triumphant smile found his face.

"¡Patata dulce, piña, calabaza!" the doorman exclaimed animatedly as they approached. "Come on in and get it!" Kate snickered from behind Marisol, seemingly amused with his antics. His arms flailed around, creating a big persona that seemed to lure in customers well.

"Hold it, now! Hold it!" His eyes flickered toward the two girls. Marisol narrowed her eyes. "A new item has just been added on the á la carte menu! Sweet, hot..." He dropped down a few steps, stopping a few feet away from Kate. He licked his fingers, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Cherry pie."

Jacob was quick to step in front of his daughter, shielding her away from the slime ball. "Retrocede, imbécil," Marisol warned him. He paused. A sour taste filled her mouth as his eyes slid over to her. There was something dark, something evil in his eyes. "Easy, mami," he hummed, directing his body in her direction.

Her lip curled at the nickname. Gently, he took a lock of her hair between his fingers, twisting it until it wrapped around his forefinger. "They'll love you, too, princesa. Mm~" He gave her hair a tug, closing the distance between them until they were almost nose to nose. She gasped inwardly, eyes widening in surprise at his abruptness.

He inhaled deeply. His fingertips ghosted over the skin of her throat. "Hueles hermoso. ¿Puedo tener solo un gusto?" She jerked away from him with a frown, shoving him with just enough strength to have him stumbling backward. A cackle echoed around them, his tongue sweeping across his teeth.

"What?" Seth suddenly asked. "What did he say?" His head snapped toward the doorman with a new fire in his eyes. His finger prodded his chest. "What did you say to her?" he demanded, only for the stranger to continue his theatrical laughter. Marisol stomped up to him swiftly. In one, fluid motion, she landed a punch directly to his nose.

His head snapped back, a sickening crack echoing in her ears. White pain escalated from her knuckles and up her wrist like a tendril of lightning. "Maldita perra," he hissed through his teeth, blood seeping through his fingers. She inched closer to him, hands clenched into tight fists.

"Fucking bitch, huh? I'll show you a maldita perr—" Seth caught her arm before she could land another strike. He ushered her around the man, leading the way toward the front door. "You can't just go around hitting people," he spoke lowly, though amusement laced his tone. Marisol jerked her arm away from him with a frown. "You can't just go around shooting people."

Seth sighed, bracing his hands on the doors. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

          "I'll stop if you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness," she shot back with a hint of a smirk. He gave the doors a hard push, a sarcastic chuckle bubbling from his throat. "In your dreams, honey."

          Rock music filled her ears as the doors gave way, giving them a view of the world inside the bar. Half naked women danced from several places around the bar, twirling and slithering against poles. Marisol's brows lifted in surprise at the sight. It's called Titty Twister for a reason, she thought, snorting at her own joke.

           "Alright!" she exclaimed with a clap. "While you gentlemen get your share of tetas, I'm headed to the bar." Kate grabbed ahold of Marisol's arm. "Me too," she squeaked. Seth went to argue, but it was too late. The two girls started down the steps and into the sea of onlookers.

          Marisol didn't apologize as she pushed through the crowd of people. Every glance over her shoulder, she could spot Seth trailing them, Jacob at his right hand side. "A shot of tequila, please," she called out to the bartender, immediately taking a seat at the bar. Kate stayed close to her side, grimacing once Seth finally reached them.

          "Howdy," Seth began, leaning against the bar as the bartender poured her first shot. "I'm looking for a friend of mine, name of Carols Madrigal." Marisol thanked the bartender with a smile before tossing back the shot. The glass clinked against the wood as she put it back down, cringing at the burn in the back of her throat.

          "Another one," she croaked out. Seth scoffed, eyeing the brunette. "Said he was gonna meet me here," he continued. The bartender poured her another shot, a hint of a smile on his features. His smile fell upon meeting Seth's eyes. "Carlos ain't here," he answered blankly.

          It slipped down easier than the last. She didn't have to say anything before her glass was being refilled. "But he is on his way, right?"

          "He comes and goes as he pleases. It's his place," the bartender explained. Marisol snickered, tossing back her third shot. Seth shot her a glare, refocusing the harsh gaze on the bartender. "This is his place?"

          "Do you have any bacarona?" she suddenly asked, interrupting their conversation. The bartender nodded, turning back to the wall behind him. "What, are you gonna drink yourself blind?" Seth asked Marisol, tilting his head in her direction. Her shoulders lifted into a halfhearted shrug.

          "If I have to be here with you any longer, I'm going to need a buzz to survive," she answered truthfully. The bartender returned, taking out a new glass for Marisol to use. His eyes flickered toward Seth as he poured the drink. "You gonna drink or not?" he asked. Seth sighed, nodding his head. "Yeah, let me get a tall bottle of your best firewater, Cochise."

          "Graciás," Marisol sighed, picking up the glass and taking a whiff. "Hey, do me a favor. When Carlos shows, give me the high sign, alright?" The bartender passed him the bottle with a blank expression. Kate glanced toward Marisol before leaving with her dad, following Seth back to a table.

          "Ex boyfriend?" Marisol's eyes flickered over to a man three seats away. He was sipping at a green cocktail, peering over his glasses toward her. She glanced around her before pointing back to her chest. "Yeah," he laughed, "I'm talking to you."

          "Who? Do you mean Seth?" His shoulders lifted into a shrug. How would he know his name? Color painted her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes closed in embarrassment. "Um, no. Well, yes, but it was a long time ago."

"So, what? Did he just follow you here or something?" She took a long drink of the bacarona, wincing at the taste. It had been so long since she'd drank like this. "Something like that," she replied with a cough. "What's your story, then? How did you get here?"

          "I needed a change of scenery," he admitted. He downed the remnants of his bottle, cleared his throat, and pointed to the chair next to her. She nodded at his silent question, a hint of a smile growing on her lips. He took the invitation happily, moving over the seats with ease until he plopped down right next to her, their knees knocking together under the bar.

          "Why?" she asked, leaning on her elbow, peering up at him through her lashes. He chuckled. He was handsome. Warm skin, an angular face. His black hair curled at the top, but was cut neatly at his neck. She bit down on her finger, her smile growing inch by inch.

          "Ex. I caught her cheating on me with my best friend. So, I packed up my shit and left." He waved the bartender down, lifting his bottle in answer to his raised brows. Marisol's smile fell. "Wow... I'm so sorry." His head dropped an inch, though his smile remained. He cut his eyes toward the girl, a glint of mischief shining through his green eyes.

          She felt her cheeks grow warmer under her touch. "Is there.. anything I can do to help get your mind off of it?" The question rolled off of her tongue with ease. Her back straightened in her seat. She blamed the alcohol for the warmth spreading under her skin, for the temptation crawling in her veins at the sight of his lips. His head tilted, a smirk spreading openly across his handsome face.

          His palm grazed her cheek gently, brushing back her caramel locks. "Could be..." His grip grew tighter as he pulled her forehead, her bottom slipping from her seat. She clutched onto the seat, eyes hooded, breath mingling with his. The music grew louder in her ears, pounding in sync with the sound of her heartbeat.

          The distance disappeared once his lips met hers. They were rough, slating against her mouth forcefully. His tongue met the seam of her lips, prying them open to taste the liquor on her tongue. She winced at his hold on her hair, at the ferocity behind his movements. Gently, she rested her hand on his thigh to stabilize her from falling over.

She's gone through this motion before. Drink until the paranoia was silenced, happily engage in some foreplay, and maybe take it one step further. The last step was never concrete. Most times she'd pass them a fake number and go home to sleep until her headache woke her up. This was one of those nights.

It wasn't that he wasn't attractive. And it wasn't that he was a bad kisser. If anything the way his tongue moved and caressed her own made her head spin. He was the one to pull away, instead focusing his attention on her neck. She breathed out a sigh, taking a swig from her glass. Her eyes moved over the people around them. A heavy fog filled her brain, distracting her from the situation she had been left in.

Teeth grazed her earlobe, his opposite hand directing her face toward his. Their lips met once more, open and inviting. She fisted the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. His thumb pressed into her pulse point, matching the twitch of his tongue to her heartbeat. Her shoulders relaxed as the alcohol infected her.

She was next to pull away, gasping for breath. His mouth chased hers, struggling to reconnect. Before she could rejoin the kiss, a hand encircled her bicep. She hissed at the pain in her arm as the hand dragged her from her seat. Her head whipped in the direction she was being dragged to find Seth standing there with a hard expression.

"That hurts," she spat angrily, ripping her arm from his grasp. His eyes narrowed. Her blood boiled beneath her skin. The music echoed in her ears. The humidity inside created a glowing sheen of sweat across her skin. For a moment, Seth stared at her, brows pinched, with a heavy glare. He scanned her face, mapping out the very things that made her Marisol, until he noticed the gloss in her eyes.

          His grip slackened, glare disappearing, and his mouth formed an O shape. His eyes flickered from her bicep to her eyes with surprise. "I... Fuck." He didn't have an excuse. He had been moving on pure instinct. The moment he spotted that guy's mouth on her, he felt that raging explosion of pure green jealousy. It clawed away at him, digging and digging, infecting his bloodstream with its bitterness.

          She stared at him silently, awaiting whatever bullshit would spew out of him. She was growing so very tired of the back and forth. Looking at him was painful. It felt like the wounds she had done so well to help heal were being ripped open again. The edges, angry and red, bled for him. She sniffed, blinking away the tears that had unconsciously filled her eyes.

          "Come on," was all he could manage to get out, choosing to instead grab her wrist rather than her arm. She stumbled after him, bumping into bodies, moving through clouds of cigarette and cigar smoke. She didn't fight back. Her eyes moved to his back, zoning in and out of focus.

          His grip on her wrist was the only thing keeping her grounded.

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          She knew that crowds were never his thing. Despite how charismatic — how charming — he was, Seth absolutely hated big crowds. That's the reason they usually steered away from the weekend parties. Instead of getting drunk in an ocean of judging eyes, they got drunk in the safety of her backyard or his truck out in a random field where they could look up at the stars.

          However, that didn't give him the right to speak so horribly to her. It had been an accident after all. She would never purposefully fall into another boy's arms. She was swimming in the alcohol at that point. Her vision was blurred just enough to hinder her. She didn't mean to miss the step, nor did she mean to land in Arthur Cecchi's arms. She was grateful she did, though. It would have been so embarrassing if she ended up eating dirt in front of the coolest crowd at school.

          He had yanked her so quickly from Arthur, steam erupting from his ears like a train engine. The whole world spun around her as Seth threatened the innocent boy. He had only stopped her from hurting herself, or humiliating herself to the point where she'd never want to leave her bedroom ever again. If she had face planted, Jenny Jackson would have never stopped talking about it.

          The moment he turned on her, Marisol was teary eyed. The yelling, the uneasiness in her stomach, it all was making her skin crawl. His angry eyes made her shy away. It was something she had never seen firsthand before. There were plenty of times from a distance, but it was never so close or directed toward her. Her tears pelted down her reddened face as he yelled, calling her a name she had never expected to come from him.

          The crowd fell silent as the couple stared at one another. In the next second, Marisol had slapped him with all of the strength she could muster. Her mascara stained the underneath of her eyes, lipstick smudged from the incessant abuse her teeth had put her bottom lip through.

          "Mari," Seth called after her, ducking through the low hanging branches of the front lawn's trees. Her feet stomped over the soft earth, her hands furiously wiping away her tears. "Leave me alone," she fired back angrily. Rightfully so. How could the love of her life call her such a derogatory name?

          His steps hurried as she approached the roadside. She was wobbling on her feet with every step she took. Before she could step down onto the asphalt, Seth had caught her wrist. "Wait," he pleaded, "I didn't mean to. I swear. I was just so angry—"

          "Angry enough to call me a slut?" she questioned monotonously, wide eyes turning to meet his. He flinched at the echo of his words from before. His hand gently slipped from her wrist to his side, stuffing deep into his pockets. "I was wrong to say that. I know—"

          A humorless laugh left her wet lips. Tears continued to trickle down her face. "If you knew it was wrong, why did you do it? You didn't even wait for an– for an explanation!" He dropped his head in shame. Her anger grew at the action. "You can't keep letting your jealousy get the better of you! I love you! You're the only person I want to be with! So, why can't you just... trust me?!"

          "I—" His reply died on the tip of his tongue. Heat grew behind his eyes. His fingers tensed, curling tight fists at his sides. She waited patiently for his next move. "I'm scared," he admitted. "I'm scared that one day you'll realize that I don't deserve you. I guess I'm just trying to protect myself."

Her eyes widened at his honesty. He had never been one to lie per se, but he was not one to admit things so intensely personal. Her hand moved to cover her mouth in surprise. "I'm fucked up, Marisol. My mom left, my old man's a drunk. I'm not used to feeling this way. No one taught what to do and what not to do in this situation."

          "There's not a manual," Marisol argued. "And every person is different. What works for one person might not work for the next. You learn as you grow." He wiped at his eyes, surprising even himself with the tears falling over his cheeks. She sniffled. "We're learning about each other with every good day and every bad day. That's just how relationships work."

          "I don't want to hurt you," he whispered. He took a hesitant step forward, taking her hand into his own. He pressed her palm to his chest where she could feel just how strong his heart beat for her. She sucked in a shaky breath, wet eyes dropping to their conjoined hands.

          "Without pain, there wouldn't be love," she replied sadly. "It'll happen, but if we talk about it and be honest with each other, we can keep it from happening again." She brushed her fingertips along the apple of his cheek. He leaned into her touch, squeezing his eyes closed. Her thumb swiped away the small tear that escaped.

          His heart raced inside of his chest. He gently tugged her closer. Her scent filled his senses, warming him from the inside out. "I love you," he muttered, nuzzling his face into her neck. She wound her arms around his neck securely, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "I love you, too. But I'm still mad at you."

          "I understand," he breathed out. "I'm sorry." She shuddered at his words, tightening her grip around him. "I know," she whispered. Her stomach suddenly gargled between them. That uneasiness returned, forcing her mouth to water. Swiftly, she pushed Seth away and stumbled back, hand flying to cover her mouth. "Oh, no," she squeaked out before turning back to the roadside and doubling over.

          The alcohol left her system in burning fluids, spilling over the asphalt with a sickening sound. Seth moved to hold her hair from her face, grimacing at the noises escaping her and the pungent smell. "Payback," was all she could blurt out before the next round came back up.

          Yeah, he thought, payback. As if he would ever let her go through this alone.

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There's something off about this place. His words echoed in her mind as she watched the liquid fill the glasses. Seth, the usually composed one, was unraveling at the seems. It was evident behind the shaking of his hand, the darting of his eyes across the room. He was uncomfortable, paranoid. He should be, he was a murderer after all. Taking a human life does that to some people.

She called it his humanity. Seeing the way he fidgeted, plopped down into his seat, nudged the glasses to their respective owners. For a moment it reminded her of the time he met her parents. He had decided to pour the water for everyone — to show he wasn't useless, as he had put it — and had almost dropped the pitcher. She watched him intently, eyes narrowed curiously.

"Not for me, and not for them," Jacob said, moving the glasses away from himself and his children. Seth sighed, seemingly relaxing in his seat. "Relax, Red Ryder," he replied. "These buckaroos earned their bonus."

Scott looked intrigued. He was a teenage boy, son of a pastor. If anything, he hadn't hit the rebellious stage yet. Kate stared at the glass silently. "So did you. Drink up." Seth moved the glasses back to their previous spots, though he decided to take Marisol's away.

"Hey," she snapped, a furrow creasing her brows. His eyes flickered toward her, blankly staring back. "Wait, Dad, can we?" Scott asked excitedly. Regardless of how amped up on fear he was in the RV, he seemed to have calmed down. Instead, he looked amped up on excitement, adventure.

Jacob never tore his eyes away from Seth. "Absolutely not," he replied. He slammed the glass away from him, alcohol sloshing over the sides and spilling onto the wooden table. Marisol crossed her arms, eyes glued on her own glass being held hostage by Seth.

"Oh, come on, Pop. We're a band of brothers now," Seth announced. "Crossed the desert, didn't even need Omar Sharif." Seth downed her glass, eliciting a noise of disapproval from the back of her throat. She reached for it, but her attempt was futile.

"As I recall, he killed a man for drinking out of the wrong well."

Seth chuckled. "Yep. Love that scene," he admitted, casting a smile over to the lady beside him. "Remember when we watched that? You had never seen it."

"Your pissing contest is getting on my nerves," she replied, ignoring his question. "Give me a drink." Seth rolled his eyes at her persistence. "I'm not going to hold your hair back when the alcohol gets tired of sitting in your body."

"Did I ask?" she fired back. "If you're going to force me to be here, then at least let me drink for Christ's sake."

Seth downed his glass, grimacing at the burn of it traveling down. He blinked, looking between Marisol and Jacob. "We're not your brothers. We're not your family. We're your prisoners," Jacob added. Seth began to pour himself another drink.

          "Dad, don't," Kate begged her father. She stared at the man with a frown between her brows. Seth chuckled. "It's alright, little lady. You see... Papa Bears grumble." His eyes flickered over to Marisol, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

          She rolled her eyes at him, scoffing softly. "That's what Papa Bears do." He looked back to Jacob, curious as to what he'd respond. At this point, Marisol was almost certain he enjoyed the back and forth.

          "You think you're in control 'cause you got the keys?" the old man asked. "You think you're on top of the world. But you're not. You're on the bottom. And you're scared."

          "And you think you're better than me," Seth fired back, pointing an accusatory finger at the pastor. "You too good to have a drink with a common thief, is that it?"

          Marisol glared at Seth with distaste. "You're not just a thief anymore, Seth," she argued. His jaw tensed visibly. His eyes cut toward her, silence falling over their heads. "Like it or not... you're a killer. You need to accept the facts and stop acting like you didn't kill those people."

          "Mari," he whispered, the softness in his tone surprising her. She jumped back at the sudden jerk of her chair into his side. Their knees bumped, his arm resting inches from her tailbone. Her face flushed involuntarily, eyes wide and unblinking.

          "You like it or not," he began, tapping the tip of his finger to her nose, "we are a family. A broken, messed up family, but goddamn it, we got love for each other, don't we?"

          His breath fanned her face. The scent of alcohol blurred the lines between them. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. "Love and forgiveness." The corners of his mouth lifted into a grin. Her eyes unconsciously filled with tears.

          Stop crying, she scolded herself silently. He's does not deserve your tears. He deserves your fist.

          "So, here it goes." His arm moved to grasp the back of her chair, trapping her beside him. "I left some bodies on the ground back in Kansas. Now, no doubt they were good me and true, but they were in the wring place at the wrong time, and they stood between me and my freedom."

          His dark eyes never left hers. She drew in a shaky breath. "So, I did what I had to do. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

          She blinked, a single tear spilling down her reddened face. Her brows furrowed in disbelief. "Is... is that it?" she whispered. Seth stared, breath shallow, fingers scratching at the wood of her chair. "That's all you have to repent for?"

          She couldn't believe her ears. She waited, prayed he'd finally apologize. Maybe he'd finally give her a reason behind abandoning her all those years ago. "Please," she cried, her heart breaking apart little by little.

          He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. He was the pebble that cracked her windshield. Slowly, with time, it began to spread from a small chip to a long crack. As it grew, the threat of shattering grew bigger and bigger until finally... she was out of commission.

          "You are a horrible person, Seth Gecko," she sneered. "You don't deserve anyone's forgiveness. And I hope you rot in Hell."

          He stared back at her in surprise. He knew that not everyone would be up for forgiving him. He wasn't really looking for that, though it pained him to see the resentment inside of her eyes.

          "Your turn," he told her. "Confess. What's one of your dirtiest secrets?" She bit down on her lip, ignoring the way her tears continued to fall despite her attempts to stop them. With a sigh, she admitted, "I had a thing for my priest."

          A familiar laugh echoed from beside her, Seth choosing to pour a drink. He slid the glass in front of her, a smirk present on his lips. "Tell me something I don't already know, honey."

          She welcomed the alcohol down her throat. The burn helped ease the throbbing of her heart, the searing pain of an open wound being ripped apart. Her eyes dropped to the table blankly. "I burned your leather jacket after you left," she confessed.

          "It was a year after you left... And I had figured that you weren't coming back. So I burned it. To get rid of you for good."

          "And did it work?" he asked. She couldn't look at him. Instead, she brushed her hair back and shook her head. "No matter what I did, I just couldn't forget you. And I hate myself for it. I hate you for it."

          Seth sighed through his nose. "What about you, then." He pointed toward Scott, directing the conversation to something different. "What's your big bad confession?" She blinked the tears away furiously, letting her mind drift away from the present.

          She'd much rather be back in Quantico. Why hadn't she turned around like Elena had said?

rumi says . . .
this is the longest chapter i've written
for neon moon to date!! yeehaw!!

i promise, mari is gonna give seth a
true piece of her mind very, very soon!
we'll finally get answers & will finally
be able to put some questions to bed.

i hope you guys enjoyed it!
feedback is seriously appreciated!