She turns for the living room.
“Violet,” I call out, realizing I never gave her a real apology. “I’m sorry.”
She glances over her shoulder.
“Apology accepted…on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“From now on, when I pop up in that head of yours, you think of me as a friend.”
A friend…
Yeah, see, there’s just one problem with that.
Violet looks like she should be more than a friend.
SEVEN
COLSON
Sebastian:I got beer, M&Ms, and am one click away from renting Wild Things. Where the fuck are you?
Colson:Hitting up the gym.
Sebastian:You’re fucking kidding, right? Rule number one of moving in meant spending quality time re-bonding over all the stupid shit we used to do as teenagers. Hence, Wild Things.
Colson:I’m mildly concerned you haven’t graduated from the soft lesbian porn in that flick.
Sebastian:Two words. Denise Richards.
Outside of Gulliver’s Gym& Ring, you’d think it’s any other day. Cars line the small lot where the parking lines have long since faded. The only difference—there are a lot more vehicles present than there was the last time I was here.
It’s after dusk, and the moon is tacked high in the sky. It’s full and brightens the area more than the streetlights, illuminating my walk to the side entrance. Just like last time, I’m wearing the darkest hoodie I own, the hood tossed up over the back of my head.
I make it around to the side of the building and pound my fist on the unmarked metal door, hoping like hell whoever is on the other side hears.
A full minute passes before the heavy door swings open. It almost catches me in my shoulder, but I move out of the way in the nick of time. A tall, bulky guy dressed in nothing but black—must’ve had the same idea—looms over me with his palm on the door. His body takes up the doorway, and he wears a scowl, half of his face etched with faded ink. He’s the kind of guy you don’t want to piss off. Probably why Llewellyn has him working Gauntlet Sundays.
“Name?”
“Colson.”
“Last name?”
“Moore.”
“Password?”
Shit.
I need apassword?Llewellyn didn’t mention a code word. I rack my brain, wondering if maybe he did offer one, but I wasn’t paying attention. I think back to our conversation at a breakneck speed, recalling every word of our discussion.
Nothing.
No secret words come to mind.
My breathing picks up and fireworks burst in my stomach like it’s the 4thof July.
