CHAPTER THREE

Logan watched the staff walk away. He was interested in going to the restaurant and eating some expensive meal that was bought by the one man who took his happiness away. He felt dead inside and no food or money could make it any better. 

To think that he'd been very thrilled to find some job to give him enough money to buy the ring, now he just looked at the dollar bill on the floor and couldn't bring himself to pick it up, he simply walked away from it and left the amusement park. 

Logan looked like the Walking Dead. His body was still coated with sweat from wearing the costume all day and he felt like a freaking zombie as he trekked down the streets aimlessly, hoping that anything could take his mind off the hurt and pain that he felt inside. 

At this time, he wandered close to a bar and decided that maybe drinking would help with his pain. He leaked through the doors and could see that the place did have a lot of patrons. "Perfect, I'll be at peace here," he said softly and leaped on the barstool by the counter. 

The bartender was a young man dressed in a gray shirt and covered with tattoos. "You look like you need something strong, what can I get you?" He asked as Logan stumbled into the bar.

 "You're right, I need something strong. Three shots of vodka would be fine," Logan replied. The man smirked and said, "I'll make it four, fourth one is in the house," he added pitifully, looking at his broken state. 

A few seconds later four shots of vodka were slammed on the counter. Logan didn't waste any time in downing two glasses without a pause and he also threw back the third glass. 

The bartender was shocked, he didn't expect him to take all the shots in less than a minute. "Hey, man, take it easy," he chuckled. But Logan handed him some of the money that he had saved up, ordering more shots. 

Logan was too consumed in his own self-pity to notice the pair of eyes that followed him from the moment he had walked through the door. The man was looking at him with an intense gaze and as he sat down and ordered the shots, his gaze didn't waver. 

At the corner booth, the man wore a pair of dark glasses and a black hoodie, he was nestled far away from the other tables and he had a single glass of whiskey on his table, the same glass that had been there for the next half hour without being touched. He wasn't there to drink, he was there for something else and Logan had just piqued his interest.

The man waited patiently until Logan was totally wasted. He threw back shot after shot and more glasses of tequilas and Vodka until he couldn't feel his own feet anymore. The bartender became a little concerned and decided to ask him out of the bar. "Hey, you're running out of cash anyways, it's time for you to go," he said with a stern voice. 

At this time, the man who was in the shadows at the corner of the bar walked down to the counter. He laid a hand on Logan's shoulder and smiled at him. "Come on, man, it's time to get out of here," he said. 

Logan looked at him oddly but he was too drunk to speak. Although the man acted like a friend and was trying to help him, he couldn't recognize him and wondered who he was. 

"Wh......who...." He slurred helplessly and tried to get up only to stumble and stagger and fall back on the stool. 

"I think you've had enough drinks," the stranger said with a soft tone and held him by the shoulders, trying to steady him. 

"You know him?" The bartender asked and the strange man nodded. "Yeah, he's a friend of mine, don't worry, I'll be sure to take him home safely," he replied and helped Logan out of the bar. 

A few steps down the street, the stranger met with another man. This man was far younger and he seemed to be waiting for him. "What took you so long?" The young man asked. 

"I had to take my time and find the right person," the stranger replied and then gestured at Logan who was now leaning on his shoulders, unable to stand by himself. 

"Where did you find him?" The young man asked as he looked at Logan, appraising him.  

"I found him at the bar over there. He's definitely a poor and low person just like you wanted, he's very suitable for your plan," the stranger replied. 

The young man looked at Logan condescendingly, truly Logan seemed to fit the description that was needed. He looked very shabby. His hair was a mess because of the costume that he'd worked on throughout the day. He was also stinky because he'd been sweating all day, his clothes were cheap and soiled from him being on the floor and pouring drinks on himself while he was drunk. 

"Good job, I knew I could count on you," the young man laughed and then pulled out some cash from his block, throwing it at the strange man. 

The stranger grabbed the money and nodded at him with a smile as he walked across the street. Then the young man turned to Logan, "He's wasted," he said and then ordered one of the men that stood beside him, clearly his bodyguards, to take Logan back to the hotel. Logan was too drunk to even know what was going on, he had long slumped on the wall of the alley and he didn't move as the men continued to converse. The guards then lifted his unconscious body and pushed him into the car. 

The young man had a stern look in his eyes as he said to himself, "Finally, my annoying cousin won't be qualified to struggle for the inheritance with me."