Page 11 of Savage Claim

Five

Jayla studied the theater’s billboard displaying the newest action movie as we ambled by, a nearly undetectable pout tugging at her lips. When she noticed my stare, she quickly hid the disappointment with a smile.

“What are we doing tonight? The twins said something about playing poker at Mac’s house.” She poked my side. “I bet you’d make a killing. Those guys are always distracted when you’re there.”

That was why those douchebags wouldn’t let me play anymore. And because I cleaned their clocks last time.

A trickle of sweat ran down my nape, and I wiped my forehead, smearing the sweat on my jeans. Summers in Savannah were such a bitch. We really needed to get out of this heat before we fried. The tourists sauntering around downtown were melting in their sandals.

“You want to see that movie?” I jerked my thumb toward Star Cinema’s billboard.

Jayla’s brown eyes widened as she shook her head, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Not really.”

I scoffed. “You were just staring at it with your little puppy dog pouty face.”

Her jaw dropped. “I was not. And I don’t have a puppy dog pouty face.”

“I beg to differ.”

She stepped over a melting puddle of ice cream that probably fell from some kid’s cone. “That’s a stupid saying. It doesn’t even make sense.”

My laughter scared away the stray cat headed in our direction. “Let’s see it. I know you want to.”

“But we’re low on money, and shouldn’t we save it for food and necessities?”

We were low on cash because I’d quit fighting after the incident with Griffin.

The incident where I beat him to death.

When I first met Jayla, she would have thrown caution to the wind and chose fun over food, but she really did pay attention to my lectures about survival. Maybe this kid wouldn’t be torn apart on the streets. Thanks to me.

Surviving was important, but so was living. I couldn’t let her turn into a hardened, no-nonsense street kid.

“Occasionally having a little fun will do us some good.” I playfully nudged her shoulder. “Besides, who do you think I am? I have ways of turning a paid experience into a free one.”

She puckered her lips. “What do you mean?”

I grabbed her hand and pulled her down an alley outside the theater. “Stay right here.” I pointed to the exterior door without a handle that could only be opened from the inside.

She tossed her hands in the air as I jogged backward to ensure she stayed put. “Why can’t I go with you, Tate?”

“Because you haven’t quite mastered the art of stealth, Jayla bear.” I winked and then turned around, hurrying to the theater’s front entrance.

Anytime I’d tried tricks like this with Jayla—or usually anyone—it never worked. But when I was alone, the sky was the limit. Well, kind of. I wasn’t actually invisible. People simply didn’t notice me sneaking around. This little gift had helped me out in many jams.

I loitered by the door until a group purchased tickets at the booth and headed inside. My sneakers were silent on the pavement as I slinked up behind the mix of twenty-something guys and girls, melting into their little party like I belonged.

My pulse spiked as they handed their tickets to the pimply teen at the door who barely looked up as he took each tiny square of paper, ripped it, and passed back half. I remained hidden behind one of the larger guys and slipped right by.

A smile curved my lips as I peeled away from the group, the scent of buttery popcorn wafting in the air. Kids ran around the concession stand, already pumped full of candy and soda. They’d never sit still for an entire movie. I pitied the parents who had to chaperone that wild bunch.

The red and blue decor, bright lights, and chaotic noises from the arcade made my head spin, but I was on a mission to bring some fun to my little protégé. I avoided sticky spots of spilled soda on the carpet, probably from those kids, and searched for an empty popcorn bucket. We couldn’t see a movie without popcorn.

An overflowing trash can right outside the women’s restroom caught my eye. Tons of refillable buckets were mine for the taking. I grabbed one, dumped the remaining kernels, and sauntered to the concession stand. This wasn’t the most sanitary thing, but I lived in an abandoned warehouse and slept on the floor for shit’s sake. Besides, it wasn’t like the bucket was inside the trash can.

“Can I get a refill?” I tapped the bucket and passed it to the teen behind the counter.

His brows furrowed as he scrutinized me, but he shrugged and grabbed my secondhand bucket. “Sure thing.” The red uniform shirt barely hung onto his lanky form, the oversized sleeves making his bony arms appear even thinner. When he wasn’t working here, he probably spent his entire summer in someone’s basement, playing video games until the sun came up.

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