Page 20 of Enemy
Chapter 10
Clyde
Twodayshavepassedin a daze, and every time I close my eyes, I see Road above me, holding my wrists and flexing his shoulders. I think my nervous system got fried, and I’m left a charred husk, unable to do my job.
I’m distracted, unfocused, and unwilling to put my mind to any club business, because all I can think of is arranging another meetup with the guy I should want dead. And Road isn’t making it any easier on me, because he messages meincessantly.
Even before I got home from that failed knife fight, I had three messages waiting for me.
[We bof wont slip tonait.]
[Home. Keep tinking abot yor lips.]
[When do I see u?]
But while I want him, I’m not doing this with him for chit-fucking-chat, so until I have things set up—a place and a good few hours when I know I won’t be bothered by anyone—he can wait. I still can’t believe I’m doing this in the first place. Is fucking a guy who doesn’t even know how to spell ‘tonight’ really worth all this effort? Practically risking my life?
But I know the answer is yes, or I wouldn’t be so desperate. The need for the kind of satisfaction he gave me is deeper than any other. Alcohol is nothing in comparison, neitheris money, or holding on to my position in the club. The force inside me is animalistic, and just like there’s no fighting a storm, it’s about time I give in.
Road was right. He’s my best bet, because he has as much to lose as me.
I only wish he would shut up and let me get a grip on our next meeting.
I did text him once.
[Wait.]
But no, he’s impatient like a wolf in mating season, so the onslaught continues.
[Why?]
[I dont wanna.]
[Cum over]
[Somewhere.]
[Motel?]
[When?]
[Clyde?]
[Meet me]
[Chickenshit?]
*Missed call*
*Missed call*
*Missed call*
[Fuker. Dont back out now!]
[Just fukin answer]
[Clyde?]
