“How’d it go?” she asked, a twinge of sarcasm in her voice.
“Don’t ask,” I muttered. “Introduce me to your friends.”
“You are looking at the pre-eminent reigning members of the Wolf Pack,” Tamara said. She waved at a group of people sitting on couches, men and women. “Stacey, this is—in order—Brett, Barb, Costanza, and Marie.”
The four of them seemed to be in two coupled pairs—Brett and Barb looked like Barbie and Ken, both blonde and movie star looks. Costanza and Marie cut a different sight entirely: Costanza was lean, lanky, nerdy-looking, and Marie was cute, in an unassuming way, with a neon acid green purse that looked like it came straight from Harajuku.
“A pleasure,” I said.
“This is Stacey Adams. She’s the latest member of Feedworthy.”
“Ooooh,” Barb said. “A journalist, huh?”
“Man, I love Feedworthy,” Brett said. “All their videos are so relatable. I’ve never seen you in one, though.”
“She just got hired on,” Tamara said. “She’s supposed to be heading a new department. What was it again, Stace?”
“Urban legends and weird stuff,” I muttered. “Name’s a work in progress.”
“Spooky Stacey, then,” Brett said, laughing again.
I grinned back humorlessly. There was no enthusiasm behind my smile. Whatever inspiration I’d had for the night had walked away with Eddie.
“Hey, I saw you disappear just now. Everything okay?” Marie seemed concerned.
“Yeah, just made out with some guy behind the building,” I said. I crossed my legs. I knew it was a tell, but couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably, thinking about him…
“You gotta be careful around here,” Costanza said. He was lanky and seemed like he was constantly smelling something disgusting, his eyes shifting around the room endlessly. “You know there’s been disappearances. You slink off with Eddie?”
“You guys know him?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Marie said. “He’s hot, but there’s…I don’t know. I feel like he makes my brain turn off when I’m near him.”
I thought about this.
“I mean, you’re not wrong. He’s super beefcake. But I heard he’s a creep,” Barb said. “I wouldn’t go near him. I heard he gave some poor girl an STD.”
“I mean, haven’t we all?” Brett said.
Barb, Marie, and Tamara stared at him. He seemed to shrink back down into his seat.
“You guys wouldn’t know where I could find him, do you? He had a nosebleed and ran off.”
“A nosebleed?” Brett laughed so hard he sounded like a horse.
“Only you,” Tamara said.
“I know,” I said.
“He runs with a rough crew. Him and his boys ride around Southside,” Costanza said.
“What, like a gang?” That was intriguing. I hated myself for it, but the idea of him on a motorbike—it just seemed to make the bad boy aspect that much stronger.
Dumb bitch juice, I thought.
“Didn’t you see his jacket? Flames of Hell. They’re bikers. Nothing more than some protection rackets here and there—you know, being loud, middle finger pointed at the police, banal mischief. I’d say they’re better than Hell’s Angels, at least. They seem to keep dope peddlers out of the area.”
“Well, isn’t that something,” I said. “You know, I wonder if we couldn’t do a story on that. A biker gang in this day and age.”
