Page 19 of Breaking the Sinner

“Cool.” He handed her the pen. “Fill this out, Red. We’ve got some work to do.”

Chapter 8

Cobra woke up to the scent of weed and pancakes. His bedroom door hung open, the first mistake of the day. He grumbled and rolled off his mattress, which was spread ingloriously on the floor even after four years at this place. By now, he could admit that he was never gonna get a bed frame.

“Coby.” His roommate Tyler’s singsong falsetto reached him from the living room. “Wakey bakeeey.”

Cobra slammed the bedroom door shut and stumbled back to his cocoon. He liked to wake and bake on his days off, but today it seemed wrong. He was taking Gen out for coffee later. Picking her up after work. Taking her on a date like a regular person.

This wouldn’t be a first for only her, either. His stomach roiled at the thought. But it wasn’t all bad.

Thud thud thud. “Cobra, you’re late for your doctor’s appointment.”

Cobra buried his face in his pillow. “Go away.”

The door creaked open a moment later. Nothing locked in this shithole apartment. Not even the front door. “The doctor says.” Tyler’s pale face contrasted hilariously with his bloodshot eyes. He’d probably been getting high for hours now. “A toke a day keeps the neurosurgeon away.”

Cobra laughed in spite of his irritation. “Fuck off. Nobody says that.”

“Come on, bro.” Tyler barged inside, an elaborate glass bong in one hand. Purply and spiraling, it was his prized possession. Probably meant more to him than even his parents did. “I packed a new bowl for you.”

“I’m not smoking.” Cobra buried his face in his pillow again.

Tyler reeled back in exaggerated shock. “Say what? Where’s my Coby boy? My wing man? My right-hand, weed-smoking companion?”

“Christ, fuck off already. I don’t feel like it.”

“Pff.” Tyler’s joking mood dropped like dead weight. He spun on his heels, headed back for the cloudy living room. “Ever since you started that new job, man…”

What Tyler hadn’t said at the end stuck with Cobra the most. Burrowing into his pillows did nothing. He was awake now, and pissed. He shot up out of bed, stalking out of the bedroom. Tyler and their other roommate, Klay, sat on the couch, taking another hit off the bong.

“There he is,” Klay said, a puff of smoke escaping his mouth as he talked around the hit he held in. “Mr. Goody Two-Shoes.”

Cobra pushed at Klay’s shoulder as he passed through to the kitchen. Klay and Tyler were both losers, but they knew it, so somehow that made it okay. Hell, Cobra was a loser too. That’s why they all fit together.

The three of them had lived together since they were teens. Shitty part was, they were the closest thing Cobra had to family. Even though the most they had in common as adults was the fact that they all smoked weed.

“I might as well be smoking. The apartment is a hotbox.” The tang of weed in the air flooded him as he picked up a stray piece of bacon off the skillet. It was two p.m. He’d been up until five a.m. the night before. Couldn’t sleep worth shit. Wasn’t sure if it was his nerves about meeting Gen or random, unrelated insomnia. He’d had plenty of that his whole life.

“Oh, excuse me, should we go outside?” Another bellow of smoke escaped Tyler’s mouth. “Too sensitive now?”

His words prickled under Cobra’s skin, but all he did was shoot Tyler a warning look. Tyler’s expression drooped into sourness, and he set the bong down.

“I’m high as fuck anyway,” Tyler said, then wandered back into his bedroom. Some of the tension dissipated once he was out of sight. Klay heaved a sigh, reaching for the remote control.

“Wanna watch some YouTube?”

Another pastime of the household: get lost in video holes, hours spent going from one video to the next. Starting on something innocuous—MMA fights or big dudes reprimanding strangers for smoking in public—usually ended up in some festering fetish hole of girls pissing on each other, kittens getting hurt, sick shit that usually made him leave the room.

“I gotta run, man.” Cobra grabbed a mug, pouring himself a cup of tepid coffee. The first taste told him how long it had been sitting there. But it didn’t matter.

“You’re off today.” Klay’s flat voice didn’t sound pleased.

“I know. I’m going out. Gotta grab something.”

“What?”

Cobra sipped at the coffee, buying himself a few extra seconds. He’d never admit he was meeting up with someone like Gen. They’d laugh him out of the apartment or worse. Try to meet her, rope her into their world. Suggest a gangbang. Probably spike her drink. “Papers for the job.”

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