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