My aunt was supportive, but she was still my aunt, not my friend. Not someone I could chill with.
Shady wasn’t an ideal companion—especially with a nickname like that—but he was all I had at the moment. I shoveled the rest of my dinner into my mouth and headed for the shower. My aunt wouldn’t even know I’d gone out, but it didn’t matter. I had no intention of breaking my promises to her. I was staying out of trouble. This was simply an excuse to get out of the house before I went completely batshit and started collecting cats and putting on tea parties for them.
When I pulled into the parking lot of the address he’d given me, I sighed. The neon name above the door—Davey’s—glowed in the dusk. It had taken me forty minutes to get there, and it was probably going to be a giant waste of time. Shady hadn’t bothered to mention it was a bar, so I hadn’t bothered to bring my fake ID. I wasn’t even sure I still had it.
I sent him a text.
Just got here but can’t join you. Did you forget I’m underage?
I was hoping I could convince him to grab a burger or something. I really didn’t want to go home yet.
After five minutes, he still hadn’t replied. Then a lean guy in a black tracksuit came swaggering around the back of the building. I’d only met him once, when he came to visit his cousin in New York about six months before my life was turned upside down, but there was no forgetting that cocky swagger, the wide grin.
Everything about this guy screamed trouble. You could tell with one glance he was Shady by nature and not just by name.
I got out of the car and walked toward him.
“Hendrix, my man!” he called out, spreading his arms wide.
I gave him a half-hearted wave and a smile. We shook hands, and he pulled me in for a good thump on the back too.
“Hey, Shady. Nice to see you again.”
“You too, man, you too. Come ’round back—no bouncer.” He led the way, then leaned sideways as if telling me a secret. “Between you and me, this place isn’t exactly too bothered with shit like that.”
“Shit like . . . legal drinking age?” I raised my eyebrows with a smirk.
He laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, how you been, man?”
Without giving me a chance to answer, he started chattering away about nothing specific as we walked into one of the dirtiest bars I’d ever seen. It was dingy, smoky, and full of people who looked even more like trouble than Shady—and that was saying something. I followed him to a seating area in the back, and he introduced me to a handful of other guys, who gave me their best tough-guy head nods in greeting.
Before I could sit down, he led me away again, still talking shit. I’d never met someone who could talk so much without actually saying anything.
We settled into a couple of barstools, and he turned to me. “Had to intro you to the businessmen. It’s a respect thing.”
I just nodded. If those guys were legitimate businessmen, then I was a professional cupcake baker. “They own the club? You work for them?”
“Nah, nah. The owner doesn’t come ’round much. That was the manager and a couple other guys. We all have an arrangement. What’s your poison?”
That was all he was going to say on the matter of his “business,” and I didn’t want more details anyway. “Just a soda or something. I’m not drinking.”
“I told you, bro. No one’s gonna check your ID here.” He thumped me on the back, waving a bar chick with dreads over.
Shady ordered vodka and OJ, and I got a Coke, then turned to him. “It’s not that. I have to drive back to Devilbend, and I can’t get in any more trouble, man.”
He nodded and dropped the grin. “Hey, man, Wiley told me what went down. That’s some heavy shit.”
Wiley was Shady’s cousin and a friend of mine from New York. He didn’t go to my school, but I’d met him at some party, and we clicked. We used to egg each other on to do the stupidest shit. He didn’t have a lot of money, so I always insisted on paying when we went out for food and shit, but he provided an outlet for me—dangerous access to getting into some dumb trouble. He was one of the only people who stood by me when “shit went down,” as Shady said. But I’d stopped returning his calls too. I didn’t deserve anyone’s support, and I needed to cut ties to that life anyway.
Yet there I was, sitting in a dodgy bar with his cousin, who was already downplaying the single biggest mistake of my life. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea . . .
“What went down?” I arched a brow at him.
The bar chick delivered our drinks, and he took a sip. “Yeah. You know, what happened . . . the incident.”
“The incident . . .” I glared at him. “I don’t need you to play it down, man. As much as my parents wish I wouldn’t, I actually own my shit. You can just say it. I—”
“Hey, look,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m not trying to piss you off or fish for info. We don’t even have to talk about it. Wiley told me you were out this way and asked me to reach out. I’m happy to be a drinking buddy or intro you to some chicks if you wanna get laid, or you can just ignore my ass and come here whenever you like. I’ll let the bouncers know you’re a friend. They’ll take care of you. That’s it, bro. Take it or leave it.”
He shrugged and took another sip. I watched him carefully for a few moments, then sighed and drank my Coke.
Maybe I’d let his words get to me too much. This lowlife seemed to genuinely have a sliver of heart in his skinny chest. And it would be nice to hang with someone without pressure—someone I didn’t have to pretend with, someone who knew what I’d done.
“Sorry, Shady. I’m a little touchy.”
“Forget it.” He waved a hand, then swiveled on his stool to look at the dance floor. “Now, tell me. Are you an ass man or a tits man?”
I chuckled. As long as I kept a wide berth from Shady’s “business” here, this could be exactly what I needed to chill out from time to time.
Chapter Five
Donna
The car was eerily silent when the girls piled into it at the end of the day. Amaya didn’t launch into the day’s gossip, Mena didn’t crack jokes, Harlow didn’t throw out any random facts. I sighed and turned the music up. I wasn’t sure if they were pissed at me or worried about me, but I hated this.
We needed some girl time, so instead of turning off toward home, I continued on into town.
Amaya turned the music down. “Where we going, D?”
The use of my childhood nickname made something in my chest constrict, and I forced some levity into my voice. “We’re ignoring all our responsibilities and getting something greasy to eat.”
Harlow snorted. “It’s Friday afternoon—you’re the only one who has responsibilities.”
They all laughed at my expense, and I couldn’t help joining in.
We parked our asses at a Portuguese joint and shared a massive plate of Peri Peri chicken and fries. When the plate was empty, Amaya crossed her arms on the table and fixed me with a look. “Is the new guy situation getting out of hand?”
I groaned. “Maybe. He’s been a giant pain in my ass since he showed up.”