Page 48 of Violent Pawn

Where are you? Gabriella said you left with Nero.

Me

For a drive to his “friend’s house.”

We’re at HIS PAPA’S HOUSE!!!!

Van

Me

It’s not funny.

Van

It’s hilarious. Best thing I’ve heard all day.

Me

He’s refusing to go back. We’re sleeping here!

In his childhood bedroom!

In the same fucking bed!

Help!!!

Van

Zeno is laughing btw. He said Nero likes playing games and not to think anything of it.

The thing is…none of today felt like a game.

Me

He’s taking the floor, except I haven’t told him that yet.

Van

Riiiiigght. I can’t wait to hear the story tomorrow.

Me

There will be no story.

Van

Mm-hmm. You two have fun. We’ll see you tomorrow. Zeno’s urging me to bed.

Asshole. I slam the phone onto the bed, glaring at it—and through the device, Zeno, who stole my best friend in my hour of need.

Fucking fantastic. Now what?

Huffing, I scan what is presumably Nero’s childhood bedroom. The poster on the far wall of a woman bent over the hood of a car is probably a decent indicator of youthful horniness and puberty. Then there’s the double-sized bed which won’t fit us both.

And the black tee resting on top, tossed there by him in invitation to wear.

He’s right about my dress being uncomfortable to sleep in, though it’s a discomfort I’m debating experiencing simply to make a point. Without another thought, I yank the shirt off the bed, carrying it to the bathroom between pinched fingers as if the material is cursed.