Page 53 of Wild Angel

“Don’t worry, Papi,” I spit out, glaring at him. “I’mwayahead of you.”

I snatch the bottle out of his fingers and tip it to my lips, standing in the process.

His growl stops me. “The fuck you think you’re going?”

“To the fucking bathroom.” I glance around. “Unless you want me to piss in the corner?”

His lips lift up in a faint sneer. “Vito, take her.”

“I’m sure she can find her way to—”

“Vito.”

Savage doesn’t yell. He doesn’t even raise his fucking voice. He just repeats his cousin’s name in the same cold tone as before.

“Christ,” Vito mutters, standing with ill grace. “Well, come on. You actually need to pee or what?”

It takes effort to tear my eyes from Savage’s. Sometimes—sometimes—when I look at him long enough, I get this feeling that I might spot just a spark of humanity deep in the dark trenches of his eyes.

But then I remember that he’s a fucking monster. There’s nothing human behind that handsome face anymore. I’m sure there hasn’t been foryears.

I start following Vito, but I guess no one around here trusts me because we’ve hardly gone ten feet before he stops and slips in behind me when I walk past.

“Straight ahead,” he says.

Like I can’t see the neon bathroom sign.

I take another sip of vodka. It’s horrible stuff—exactly what I always imagine drinking nail polish remover would be like—but I know it’ll eventually get the job done.

When we’re almost at the door, I stop. Vito comes up behind me, lets out a sigh. “What now?”

“Queue,” I say, pointing with the hand clutching the neck of the vodka bottle.

“We don’t do queues,” he says.

He grabs my wrist and drags me past the line of waiting girls, then barges into the bathroom without hesitation. I totter wildly behind him on my precarious heels, trying to apologize to everyone who looks my way.

“Vito!”

He slams his fist against each bathroom stall in turn. “Squeeze it out and fuck off,” he yells.

“You know not everyone in there is taking a dump, right?” I tell him.

True enough, the doors fly open seconds later, girls still busy pulling up panties and tugging down dresses, some wiping at their noses while others are trying to shove shit back in their handbags.

As soon as the bathroom empties out, Vito shuts the door and takes out a ring of keys, locking it. He turns while I’m still gaping at him and points at one of the open stalls. “Hurry up, chick.”

I scowl at him, but he’s as oblivious to my hatred as Savage.

Slamming the stall door behind me, I take another sip of vodka before going to perch on the toilet. I hear Vito pacing outside, then a familiar tap-tap-scrape as he starts cutting a line.

I flush the toilet and head out, glancing over at him as he ducks his head to snort the coke off the edge of the basin. I wash my hands, following him with my eyes as he straightens, pinches his nostrils, and snorts like a pig digging in the mud.

“Charming,” I tell him. “I’m surprised you don’t have girls lining up for you.”

“They are,” he says through a lopsided smirk. “You just walked past them.”

I roll my eyes at him and go to fix my hair.

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