Page 7 of Dirty Roulette
Crab:I always do.
Find me.Ever since I started learning French, it’s been my little phrase to him. It’s like playing hide and seek. For whatever reason, he always seems to figure out where I am.
I revert my attention back to Charlie, knowing she wants to head in. The contents in my stomach turn, and I’m not ready to socialize with the worst possible people on the planet.
“You flirtin’ with my brother again?” Charlie asks with her lips in a flat, straight line.
I roll my eyes and tighten my grip on my purse, “oh,totally.”
Charlie scoffs at my sarcasm. “And you say you don’t hover over him. Whatever. You absolutely got the hots for him.”
“Sure, I have hots for my best friend’s brother who happens to be the running back with the NFL kissing his feet and girls begging for his dick. Are you serious right now? You’d murder me.”
“You’re right, I’d nail you to a fucking cross.” Charlie eyeballs me up and down.
“Ha ha, you’re so funny.” I deadpan.
She holds my stare for a beat and then takes a steadying breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” Charlie opens the door and leaps out.
Chapter four
Ryder
The air is heavy with the scent of gasoline when Jared parks at the 7-Eleven. The car idles at stall three, and any moral reasoning washes away. Making bad decisions is imminent. I swear I have an inverted crucifix running its mark over my forehead for all the times I stole Hennessy from this fatso working the midnight shift.
“Keep it cool, man,” Jared says as he steps out. There’s no way to be chill. I’m walking with a sweltering fever, and its pure rage over my sister’s naïve tendencies.
I slam the passenger door and raise my chin to Jared. “Let’s go wish this fatass a happy birthday.” With sweaty palms at my sides, we both head down the sidewalk. I burst through the front door like one of those lunatics from stupid talk shows about to manhandle the cameraman and toss him to the crowd.
“I’m gonna get some beer,” Jared says, disappearing through the shelves filled with snacks and candies.
“Can I help you?” Fatso asks and raids my nostrils with his dumpster fire odor. Sweat drips down his face and saturates his armpits. Someone must have waterboarded him in a grease trap because his hair swims in oil.
“Yeah, I’m looking for my sister.” I pull out my phone to show a video of Charlie and Payton with a bottle of vodka in their hands.
“Oh, them.” He raises an eyebrow. A grin exposes his yellow teeth, with the rot caked between the gaps.
“When?”
“About an hour ago. They got some cigarettes and left.”
“You know that’s some bull.” An adrenaline-fueled pulse pounds in my ears.
“It is what it is, man.” He shrugs, and I’m met with the decay bleeding out of his mouth. He’s being way too casual while I’m trying to hold in my anger. I’m about to unleash a nuclear warhead and blow his teeth right out of his mouth.
“You know damn well why they were in here.”
“And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The lie rolls off his tongue, and he doesn’t even flinch.
I lunge over the counter. Both of my hands curl around the collar of his shirt as I drag the creep across the counter, knocking over boxes of lighters and chargers that scatter to the floor.
“You sick fuck! Stop lying to me! Tell me the truth. Why was my sister here?”
“Get your hands off me! I’ll call the cops!” His eyes lock onto mine.
“How about I call them and tell them about the underage girls who flash you for booze? Let’s see how that conversation goes!”
“Chill man, I don’t think you can take on a four hundred pound man!” Jared yanks on my shoulder and pulls me off him. I step back with a hand raked in my hair. I’m on the verge of grabbing one of thecandy racks and pitching it through the door to get my point across. I’m not playing around. If I need to, his face will eat concrete.
