Page 117 of Let the Game Begin

“Whether you like it or not, I make the decisions here, and you arenotcoming. End of story. Don’t fuck with me,” I reiterated in a grave tone.

When she fell silent, I turned and walked toward my car with Alexia.

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, briefly glancing at me once she’d settled into the passenger seat.

“To The Royal,” I answered without looking back at her. I quickly checked my text messages before starting the engine.

“Are you shitting me?” She looked at me with her little doll face and fluttered her fake eyelashes a few times in disbelief.

“Do I look like I’m shitting you?” I cracked a cheeky grin, and with no further conversation, drove her to the club I’d indicated.

The Royal was Nelson and his friends’ hangout. Earlier in the afternoon, I heard from some other people about a party that was to take place there that evening and that Nelson’s whole group planned to show up.

When we pulled up in front of the club, I immediately took note of the line at the entrance. I had been informed, however, that the real party would take place in the parking lot behind the venue and not inside.

“I can already feel the blood on my hands,” Xavier commented as we gathered in front of the cordoned-off entrance that prevented access to the enormous parking lot. The open space was filled with people, tall outdoor heaters were placed around at intervals, and the bass of the music was amplified by a pair of subwoofers connected to the DJ’s mixing table. People were getting wild to the sound of it, swinging around plastic cups full of booze as well as other stuff. There were half-naked girls all over and parked racecars, lovingly displayed by their owners in advance of the race that was to take place after midnight.

“Don’t do anything until the time is right,” I ordered the three people flanking me.

Notes of Malaa’s “Notorious” accompanied our determined strides, hunting for the prey that had brought us here. Luke, Alexia, and I were focused on the objective, while Xavier stared at the girls asses as they waggled in front of us and winked at a few of them who seemed to be returning his interest.

“Knock it off. You’re not here to pick up girls,” I snapped irritably at him. He rolled his eyes but immediately took on a more cautious attitude like the rest of us.

We moved through the crowd, the loud music booming from the speakers keeping us from communicating with one another, except in meaningful glances as we searched for Nelson’s clique. I looked around just then, and from the alarmed looks on the faces around us, I realized that our presence had been noted.

One guy in particular seemed fixated on the red X that stood out starkly in the middle of my sweater, matching the leather jacket stretching over my shoulders. The guy whispered something to his friend, who turned to stare at us. Both of them looked at first surprised and then afraid.

I smiled slightly and kept moving. It was written on our faces what we were: we were an offense to public decency; devils who would happily roast anyone who dared to provoke us.

“There they are.” Xavier put a hand on my shoulder to turn my attention toward three guys. They were leaned up against one of the race cars. One of them was about to fuck a girl over the hood while the other two drank beers and chatted. When they spotted us stopped short just a little ways away from them, they quit laughing and looked at us suspiciously, suddenly at attention.

I could smell it immediately, their fear and my victory: Carter wasn’t going to turn me in, because I knew exactly how to stop him.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of the punks demanded. He had gauges in both earlobes, and there were tattoos clearly visible on both sides of hisneck. I didn’t respond and resumed my approach, followed by the others.

I leaned casually against the car next to theirs, having no idea whose it was. Then I took out my pack of Winstons and pulled out a cigarette, bringing it to my lips before I lit it.

The guy jerked the girl off the hood of the car before wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand and glaring at me. My eyes roamed over the piercings that jutted out from both of his eyebrows as well as his left nostril. I showed not the slightest interest in his infuriated expression.

“Hey, dickhead! That’s my car,” he snarled at me as my gaze moved on to the DJ’s speakers, which were pumping out another Malaa song, “Prophecy.” I often listened to that one in the car or when I was working out at home.

“I’m talking to you!” The guy tried to draw my attention back to him, but I continued to smoke with calculated indifference.

“Which one of you is in charge?” was my opener, but only after I’d made them wait for a while. I blew smoke out into the air and awaited their response, staring into the guy’s black eyes.

“Until Carter comes back, I am,” the tattooed one answered proudly.

“And your name is?” I asked, pretending like I cared.

“You’re the one who needs to tell me your name, asshole! You’re in my territory, and you’re smoking on my car!” he informed me, grinding his teeth.

Calm down, kiddo.

“Neil,” I said in a placid tone, and he tilted his head to one side. His friends all frowned and exchanged worried looks with one another.

“Miller?” the leader finished.

“Exactly. How perceptive of you.” I taunted him while Xavier and Luke stood ready beside me, like two attack dogs waiting for my signal.