Lucky in Poker and Sex

Ch. 3

Mr. 42 sat at a bar, waiting for Miles to finish his shift. He was having a shot of whiskey and scrolling through his phone. He had already played his fair share of poker games and won enough money. Mr. 42 checked the time on his phone; at 04:56. Miles' shift ended in about 4 minutes, so Mr. 42 paid the bartender and walked over to the employee's only door. He casually leaned against the wall and waited for the worker to come. They've been 'together' for a couple of weeks, keeping each other company now and then. A few minutes passed, and Miles still didn't show up.

"¿Dónde está Miles?" Mr. 42 mumbled to himself.

He put his phone in his pocket and started his search for Miles. He walked through Miles' designated area. Eventually, he did find him, but not in the perfect state. He was sitting by a wall, completely hammered. He was a crying mess and wore the smell of alcohol. Miles looked like he was on the verge of puking. Mr. 42 rushed to his side.

"What- What happened?" Mr. 42 asked.

Miles drunkenly looked at him, slowly blinking. Miles didn't even know that he existed, breathing heavily. Gwen, A co-worker of Miles, walked up with a glass of water.

"Miles, go home," Gwen said, "Go with your doppelganger or whatever; you're not fit to work,"

"I am fit to work," Miles snapped, slurring his words, "I'm the best worker in this whole goddamn casino,"

"How does this even happen?" Mr. 42 asked Gwen.

"Stupid ass owner makes it okay for workers to have alcohol with customers," Gwen replied, anger in her voice, "Since it brings it more money; they usually ask Miles because he's younger and oblivious,"

They watched Miles chug the water, feeling pity for the boy.

"I'll take him back to mine for the night," Mr. 42 said, picking up Miles.

"That's good, Morales," Gwen said, "I'll let his boss know; don't bring him back tomorrow, and he'll throw a fit, but it's for the best,"

Mr. 42 helped Miles walk, wrapping Miles' arm around his shoulder. He thanked Gwen before assisting Miles back to the employee's only door. They walked through, and Mr. 42 dropped Miles off at his locker. He grabbed Miles' stuff and helped him out. They [somehow] got to the elevator; Mr. 42 sat Miles down on the elevator floor. Miles leaned on Mr. 42's leg. He felt miserable and pathetic and didn't want Mr. 42 to see him like this. He wanted to cry, but he felt like that would ruin Mr. 42's image of him. His hazy vision watched the floors go down into the poker area garage.

He rocked back, making himself sicker. Mr. 42 stopped him, grabbed his head, and held him still.

"You gonna throw up before or after we get to the car?" Mr. 42 asked.

Miles softly giggled, "I think you're sexy,"

Mr. 42 blushed but shook the thought away.

"Yeah, no," Mr. 42 said, "Don't even think about it,"

"Why not~?"

"I'm not taking advantage of you when you don't know where you are,"

"I'm at my house," Miles said, his words becoming more slurred and slowed down.

"You also stink," Mr. 42 said; he wanted to say more but kept his composure.

Miles scoffed. He tried to get up but ultimately failed. The elevator reached its destination, and the doors opened. Mr. 42 helped Miles get off his feet and dragged him to the car. He placed him in the passenger seat and then entered the driver seat. He turned on the car and pulled out of the garage. As they drove, Miles forced conversation between them. Mr. 42 was uncomfortable the entire time; he wanted to get home and let Miles sleep.