Blinking away the spots of light that partially blind my view, I struggle to see what’s in front of me clearly. Something is closer than I expect. I can feel its presence crowding my space, but it takes another moment to clearly see what’s in my way. Black hair atop pale skin with gray eyes and cracked lips. It’s Ryan, and he’s less than a foot away.
“Hey, asshole,” Ryan says with a large smile on his face. His breath smells like a combination of whiskey and something else I’d rather not try to place. It just fucking stinks. I let a scowl form on my face and bite back the comment that’s on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell him to fuck off or to suck my dick. But I don’t. I’d rather deal with Grady—who I know to be a fair man—than Ryan, who I have on good authority is a fucking psychopath. Not that I think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Actually, I’ve been doing everything I can in the last year or so to show Ryan that I’m more than a punk kid with a big mouth. He seems to respect a strong personality, so that’s what I want to show him. Still, I don’t know that right now is the time to try to show him that.
Ryan stares at me with little to no emotion. It’s a long, insufferable moment before he raises an eyebrow and his lips spread into an awful smile. But it isn’t until he’s smiling so wide that he’s showing his teeth that I know I am really in for it.
I don’t see it coming, but the impact from the palm of his hand slamming into my cheek sends a stinging across my face. I try to block out the moment, but all I can think is that I just got bitch-slapped by Ryan. This is bad—really fucking bad. I try to scramble backward, looking for an out, but the back of my head and the top of my shoulders are stopped by Grady’s shins. His wavy hair hangs low, practically touching my forehead. The stench of alcohol and onions wafts over my face. Just once, I’d like for one of these guys to have fucking brushed their teeth before getting in my face. Like Ryan, Grady could really use a goddamn mint. Once again, he grabs ahold of my neck and stands slowly, pulling me up with him and bringing me to my feet.
Aware of how unsteady I am, I keep my back straight and bring my chin up just enough to show the men around me that I can handle the shit they’re dishing out. Even if I’m not entirely convinced they aren’t going to beat the shit out of me, I don’t want my fear to show. Ryan stands just as Grady pulls me backward, deeper into the room. With more distance between us, I’m able to see who else is in here with us. Sure enough, Diesel and Wyatt are standing with their arms crossed over their chests. I don’t know either well enough to judge the expressions on their faces. We’re in the center of the room right next to the pool table when Grady releases me. I take a deep breath and try to blow it out inconspicuously.
“You fucked up, kid,” Wyatt says. I say nothing as he looks me up and down. His left nostril lifts in disgust.
“Butch would be very displeased,” Diesel says with the shake of his head. I’m pretty fucking well aware that my dad wouldn’t approve of me scratching Duke’s bike. It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or if I did it on purpose. All that matters is that I fucked with something that belongs to Forsaken. Leaning against Duke’s bike was stupid. Right now I can’t even remember why I did it. Sometimes it feels like I can’t get anything right no matter how hard I try.
“What punishment do you think you should get?” Wyatt asks. Punishment? Fuck if I know. I’d like to say that this intimidation bullshit is enough, but I know better.
“We’re going to have fun, kid.” Ryan is smiling as the words come out of his mouth. I’ve never seen him smile this much before. It’s starting to freak me the fuck out.
Grady clears his throat, and I turn just slightly to wait for his admonishment but am surprised to find that he’s shaking his head. He says, “Down boy,” and his eyes slide over to Ryan.
Thanks to my sister and her big-mouth friend Chel, I know all about the trouble between Grady and Ryan. Apparently Ryan’s looking to get himself hooked up with some bitch they call Princess who ratted on her pops. If there is one thing I know about Grady, it’s that he is one by-the-book motherfucker. There’s a way you do things and there’s a way you don’t do things, and in Grady’s world, there’s little room open for interpretation of the “code of silence.” I wish I was smart enough to find a way to redirect Grady’s attention to Ryan and the beef they got going, but I can’t think of anything that won’t get my ass beat.