The gaudy green neon above the metal door read Davey’s.
A smile pulled at my ruby-red lips as every step I took toward the shiftiest establishment I knew took me away from myself.
Mom had come home from her boozy dinner, and I’d heard her snoring through the door as I passed her bedroom. Harlow was on her computer and had been oblivious to anything going on around her for hours. She’d be going to bed soon, and she’d leave early in the morning for tennis while Mom slept in. Meaning no one would notice me sleeping in.
My Legal Studies extra-credit assignment was done.
I’d mentioned a headache to the girls, ensuring they wouldn’t try to get me out.
My to-do list for next week was written up in order of importance.
Hendrix . . . ugh! Hendrix was tomorrow’s problem.
The girls had witnessed the tail end of our conversation, and I’d told them every detail in the car. Amaya swore profusely, calling him some very colorful names. Harlow mostly laughed, amused that someone was getting a rise out of me. Mena didn’t like that he’d said mean things to me, but in the same breath she hoped he was adjusting to a new school OK.
I still hadn’t decided what to do about him, but as I pushed through the rusty metal door, thoughts of the infuriating guy melted away. Instead, the pumping bass sent chills of anticipation down my spine.
I paused in the entrance area only long enough to slip a fifty to Anton—the burly bouncer whom I had a standing arrangement with. Not that Davey’s was that strict with checking IDs anyway. Anton was paid for his discretion as much as for my entry. He gave me a nod, tucked the bill away, and readjusted himself on his stool. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him crack a smile.
The Davey’s clientele was as questionable as the stale trail mix they served up at the bar, but I didn’t come here for stimulating conversation or to meet my future husband. I came here to have fun—to let the loud music and edge of danger drive all other thoughts from my mind.
I swayed my hips to the music as I made my way through the middle of the room, checking out who was on the dance floor. A lot of bikers hung out here, drug dealers, hookers—basically unpredictable people with questionable morals. People who made a thrilling jolt of fear race down my spine.
When I reached the bar, I wedged myself between a couple of bikers and a prostitute named Gina (she’d spilled her whole life story to me on one of my previous visits but had no memory of it or me—so I didn’t bother saying hello). I stuck my ass out, crossing my booted feet at the ankles and arching my back. My gaze stayed forward, but I could practically feel hungry male eyes caressing my curves.
Three busy bartenders were working the bar, but luckily Bea spotted me first.
“Hey, girl.” She greeted me with a fist bump. Bea was in her thirties, had dreadlocks and a penchant for leather vests, and took shit from no one. “Usual?”
“Yes, please.” I gave her a genuine grin. We’d never spoken much beyond that exact exchange, but just like Anton, I had an understanding with Bea.
She dropped a glass of what looked like vodka and soda in front of me, but it was actually just soda. Even when I ordered an alcoholic drink in front of other people, Bea knew not to serve me alcohol, and she knew to keep her mouth shut about our agreement. I slipped her a fifty as I paid for the drink, and she gave me a wink before moving on to take the next order.
I was here because it made me feel alive. I didn’t actually have a death wish. There was no way I was going to risk getting intoxicated in this crowd.
I turned to lean back against the bar, sipping my drink as I scanned the room. There were a few guys with potential. I liked the ones who were taller than me in my heels. I didn’t really care what color his hair was, what his voice sounded like. I hardly even bothered with his name half the time. But he had to be strong, confident, with some intensity simmering around the edges. He had to be the one to approach me.
The boys at my school couldn’t handle me. But these lowlifes—these