Page 126 of Satan's Spawn
“Friends don’t hold friends' vital medication hostage.”
“Bex,” he rolls his eyes. “You really think I’m not gonna give you your ADHD medication? C’mon. I’m loyal to Crayton, yes, but I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain. It’s why I don’t even bother looking through the work you turn in for him.”
Which is exactly what I’ve been counting for the past three nights I’ve delivered Crayton’s assignments.
“Make it up to me by telling me what Crayton’s deal is with Felix.”
He blows out a breath. “Fine.” Saint looks behind him to see who’s around, and chuckles when his gaze stops on Hendrix tapping her foot. “Long story short,” he faces me again, “Felix’s dad fucked Crayton’s dad’s ex wife. It’s why they split. It was the talk of the entire school for a while, thanks to Felix, until Crayton silenced him.”
“How did he do that?”
“How do you think?” He points a brow.
Not needing to hear more, I nod. “Fine, that’s a start. Now tell me where the hell Crayton has been.”
Saint wraps an arm around me. “That’s enough information for one day, gorgeous. Let’s get going before your impatient friend over there implodes all over the dining hall floor.”
24
CRAYTON
Inever understood what the appeal was about dive bars.
They’re over crowded, outdated, and most of their patrons smell worse than the vomit crusted single bathroom crackheads use to get high.
Yes, yes, I may be biased because of my dislike of anything involving the general population, but it still stumps me why a person would actuallychooseto drink in a place like this.
Nothing good ever comes from a room filled with dirty drunk old men and a group of underage girls with no choice but to party at the only bar in the city who doesn’t ID.
Safe to say I’m not here for the ambiance, even though the lighting is the one thing about this place that actually impresses me.
It’s dim, easy to blend in which is exactly what I’m counting on as I sit at a small round table in the back, sipping on a warm Coors Light.
I watch my newest target of the week, all of five foot eight with short graying hair and stubble on his jaw, sitting at the bar with another guy that should’ve been cut off from the Tequila over an hour ago.
He laughs quietly with the other drunk dude, both of them stealing glances over their shoulders at the seventeen year olds in tube tops taking shots.
When one teen cheers, the piece of shit raises his beer and cheers along with her, as if being a part of their little girls’ night out.
The girls pay no mind to the fifty year old pervert, instead they start dancing to an ACDC song after one of them plays it from the jukebox.
This has the asshole turning in his stool, watching them shake their asses with unrepressed hunger in his eyes. It’s the typical creeper scenario, where eventually he’ll stand up and try to make his way over to the drunkest girl, tell her how pretty she is as he cops a feel of her ass in skin tight jeans.
It’s boring, predictable, and all I want is for this piece of shit to leave already so I can do what I came here to do.
I look down at my phone, checking the time, grumbling when I realize it’s three in the morning and I’ve been here watching him for over two hours.
That’s a hundred and twenty minutes I’ll never get back, so this fucker better make my night worth it.
Finally after a few minutes of circling the young girls like a lion does his prey, one of the only smart bitches of the group walks over to the bar and complains, forcing the tired old man behind it to order the bouncer to kick his ass out.
Hallelujah. It’s finally play time.
The second the door closes behind the irate drunken mess, I’m up out of the seat and throwing my hood over my head as I follow behind.
The entrance to this bar lies deep in an alley in one of the sketchiest neighborhoods in Manhattan.
You won’t find any tourists with cameras on a corner in Borden Heights, that’s for sure. There’s nothing but dingy bars, bums, and the occasional hooker looking for her loving John.
