Page 59 of These Deadly Vows

“Why is that?”

“I’d say you’re about five minutes from Prez stomping his boot in your ass.”

“Aw, are you worried about my safety?”

“Fuck no. I don’t want to have to scrub your guts off the floor after he spills them.”

Her face pales. “Is he mad?”

“So you admit it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” I mutter.

“Heads up, feisty redhead incoming.”

Fuck. I turn around right as Stray takes up a stool at the bar. “Hey, Axe. Didn’t you get my text?”

“Busted my phone.”

“Oh. Bummer.”

“Not really.” I shrug and take a hard pull off my beer. At least with my screen busted, I can’t be tempted to seek out Coralie and ruin her life for a third time. Even though I have a backup phone, I can insert my sim card into.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over later.”

“Can’t. I have other plans.”

“Some other time, then?” Her big eyes burn into me with so much hope I almost feel bad for what I’m about to do.

“Maybe. Are you ready to go?” I ask Boo.

“Huh?” She looks at me like, what the fuck?

“If we’re going to make that movie, we need to get gone. Prospect. Watch the bar,” I call out, not caring which one responds. One of them will.

“Um, yeah. The movie. Right. Later, Stray,” Boo says softly, sounding as if she almost gives a damn about someone other than herself.

I lead Boo to the parking garage.

“What the fuck was that? You know she’s my best friend.”

“Then why’d you go along with it?”

She lifts her shoulder. “I don’t know.” She stares at her shoes. “I’m not high enough for this.”

“That makes two of us. Let’s get out of here. It’s better if you lie low tonight, don’t you think?”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because I’m bored, and I needed Stray off my back, and you were there.”

“Fair enough.”

I follow Axe back inside, going up the back service stairs to his apartment. His place is one of the smaller units that hasn’t been converted into an actual apartment. It even still has the outdated hotel furniture. He doesn’t live on the same floor as the other brothers, either. He’s on the floor where Ghost has his office and shit. There’s nothing in the room. A queen sized bed. A long dresser with a flat Tv mounted over it on a swiveling bracket.

There are no personal effects out anywhere other than a pile of dirty laundry rumpled in the corner. Dude doesn’t even have a chair or a table. I sit on the edge of the bed, picking at the frayed edges of his tattered blanket.

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