Page 12 of Ruin

She nods and glances toward me. “Promise.” I expect her to question me, but she doesn’t.

I pull onto the main road in the Springs and turn past the post office. Cars rush out of parkways and lights glow as far as I can see. The whole thing is too much. Multi-lane traffic, stoplights, sidewalks packed with pedestrians, a police car whirring in the distance, and the scent of fast-food fryer vents, car exhaust, and wet concrete permeating the air.

“You sure you want to do this?”

Peach’s eyes widen. “Yes! I love it here! To visit, I mean. I wouldn’t want to stay.” She glances toward a large café on the corner with two homeless people standing outside holding tin cans. “Can we pull over? I want to give them something.”

Only my peach would stop on her way to the sex club to make sure the homeless were taken care of.

My peach. She’s not my peach.

I repeat the words half a dozen times in my head, but I don’t believe them. Something inside of me knows this girl is mine.

I check the rear mirror and pull to the side as she rolls down the passenger window and tucks two twenty-dollar bills in each of their cans.

“You’re a good person,” I say, squeezing her hand, “and you are definitely one of my best friends.”

She gasps and tugs away from me. “I won’t accept one of your best friends. Best or nothing.”

I laugh. “Apparently you’re a good person, but uncontrollably possessive.”

“Not apparently. Wholeheartedly possessive.” She smiles.

“Got it.” I pull into the driveway of The Lookout and take in the scene. I’ve never been over here before, but it’s clear to see that the place has made it without my attendance.

“ID please.” A thick man stands in the booth just outside the parking lot. He reminds me of Country with a trucker hat and a thick southern drawl.

I hand him our licenses, he stamps our hands, and we pull in toward the large brick building that’s been painted black. There are two floors with a hot pink neon sign flashing over the second.

Peach glances toward me. “Okay, I might be nervous now.”

“Do you want to turn around? We can go find a bar, eat endless mozzarella sticks, and talk shit about Garth Brooks.”

She laughs. “I think that’s like sacrilegious or something. You can’t talk shit about Garth Brooks south of Cheyenne. It’s a thing.”

“Sorry.” I grin. “This place looks really busy tonight.”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

“Not sure. Could be good. Busy means it’ll be easier to observe without being bothered.”

“Right.” She chews on her lip as she studies the people walking past.

I’m not sure what I expected, but this place is filled with folks of all ages and walks of life.

I park in the corner of the lot under a streetlamp and hop out, rounding to help Peach down from the truck before she can climb down herself. I was protective before, but suddenly that emotion is becoming overbearing. It’s the kind of overbearing where I want to toss her over my shoulder and say fuck adventure and her birthday, but here I am being a good fucking sport… like a damn fool.

Chapter Five

Carmen

There’s no bouncer at the front door, but there’s a woman behind a cage. Not like an animal cage, but a casino cage… where you cash in your chips. She’s older with a tight perm and she’s dolling out condoms like lollipops.

“ID’s please.” We’ve shown our ID at the door, but apparently, we’re showing them again.

She scans them over and stares toward us. “Are you two playing together?”

I glance toward Ruin, though I’m not sure why. Of course we’re not playing together. We might not be playing at all, but still, it’s instinctual to look toward him.

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