“I’m blowing this popsicle stand,” he said. “I need somespace. Some people are getting too needy, if you know what I mean.”
“Fuck you,” Hollywood growled, pushing past him hard enough to make Tex stumble. “You start shit, but you never finish it, Tex. Because you’re a goddamned coward.”
He stormed across the lot. I watched, stunned. It really wasn’t like Hollywood to lose his cool like that. He usually looked more like a model than a felon. That’s how he got his nickname. Hendrix Wood became Hollywood in prison.
He’d styled his hair in a messy, sexy tousle, and his bone structure could rival any leading man’s. But anger twisted his features into something unrecognizable tonight.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked Tex.
He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’ve overstayed my welcome, that’s what.”
“That’s not true. We’re all here for you. The program?—”
“I’m done with all that,” he said harshly. “I can’t stay.”
He yanked open the truck door, and I took a panicked step forward. “No, you can’t go, man. You can’t give up.”
“What’s the point, Knight? I’ve already lost.”
He climbed into the truck and started the engine. I stepped up to the open window. “Where will you even go?”
“I’ve got family in Hayworth. Maybe I’ll have better luck over there.” He snorted. “Anywhere’s better than here right now, man. Tell Holly…”
He trailed off, jaw clenching tight. I didn’t think it was anger, though. It was grief.
“What?”
“Tell him he’s right about me. Fuck, I know it. Just can’t change it.” He stared at the door where Hollywood had disappeared from sight. “I never could.”
“Tex…”
“You’re better off without me,” he said. “Someone else will come along. Things always work out for you, Knight. You’re one of thegoodguys.”
There was a bitter tinge to his words. Tex had a darkness in him. We’d all seen it. He was all smiles and jokes, but there was a heavy weight behind his eyes.
“Wait, let’s talk?—”
He gunned the engine and threw the truck into reverse, forcing me to step back. He whipped around and sped for the exit, the pickup bouncing over the uneven pavement.
Fuck. What about my rent?
I headed for the door, wondering what the hell I could do and feeling like a shithead for being so selfish. Tex was going through something. Hollywood too.
That should be more important than my bills.
But hell, they were stacking up, and my paycheck was modest even before all the court fines and restitution was taken out of it by the state.
If only I hadn’t run to Puck’s rescue. Hadn’t gotten into a firefight. Hadn’t shot that asshole biker.
If only I hadn’t fucking joined a motorcycle club to begin with.
I got myself into this mess. There was no blaming anyone else. I just had to suck it up and rebuild my life.
If Flynn could do it after everything he’d been through, then so could I. But it sure didn’t help to have Tex do a runner on me right now.
When I got inside, Hollywood was bowling strike after strike, looking as if he was imagining Tex’s face on every pin. Our new guy, Joyride, was hanging back and watching. He looked like he wanted to join in but was reluctant to make the first move.
Any other night, I’d try to get him to open up. He’dkept his distance since he joined the program, and the transition from prison to life on the outside could be rocky. Joyride was young—twenty-three or twenty-four. It meant he didn’t do as much time as some of us, but it also meant he was damn young when he went in.
