Page 2 of Out of the Dark

"Come on" he teases, leaning closer. "You can’t tell me you don’t get propositioned every once in a while." His pupils are massive, and it makes me wonder what sort of substances he decided to partake in tonight. Most of these guys have the habit of doing some sort of drug at the start of their shift.

Before I can respond—or find a way to deflect—the printer near the counter whirs to life, spitting out a new order.

Thank goodness.

Randy grabs the ticket. "Another delivery. Claire, you up for it?"

"Yes," I answer before he can even finish his sentence. As soon as the pizza is cooked and boxed, I’m rushing out the door. The cold outside, as bitter as it is, is much more welcome than the warm but stifling atmosphere inside.

"Don’t forget to smile!" Randy calls after me.

I don’t respond.

The icy air nips at my cheeks as I make my way to the car, but I don’t mind. It feels cleaner out here, untainted by crude jokes and uncomfortable stares. I slide into the driver’s seat, set the pizza boxes on the passenger side, and take a deep breath.

For a moment, I sit there in the silence. Maybe I should have stood up for myself. But what if that would’ve backfired and made everything worse? Back home, standing up for myself was one of the most disrespectful things I could do in the eyes of my father and the church leaders.

But I’m not back home anymore, and I can’t let myself forget that. It’s a different world out here.

I shake my head, shoving the thought aside. It doesn’t matter. I can’t change how I am, and I just need to get through this for as long as it takes me to find a different job.

Starting the car, I glance at the receipt to double-check the address. A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth—not because of anything particularly exciting, but because I know I’ll be away from them for at least another thirty minutes.

It’s not much, but I’ll take it.

CHAPTER TWO

MARK

"What do you think, should we go with sky blue or more of a powder blue?"

I fight the urge to sigh into the phone. Shane sent me a text with a picture of a tie in each color. They look the fucking same to me, but apparently my best friend is now preoccupied with picking between colors that are almost impossible to distinguish between for wedding decor.

"Do you know how there were articles coming out a few years ago saying mantis shrimp could see a broader spectrum of colors than humans? That’s what this feels like right now. You’re a shrimp, clearly seeing something that I’m not. They’re both light blue to me, dude."

Shane chuckles. "Fair enough. Sorry, I know this isn’t anything you care about. Also, I’m fairly certain that thing about the shrimp seeing more colors was debunked." Of course he would know that.

"Don’t be sorry. This is your wedding, and you deserve to feel excited about it."

But even as I say the words, discomfort settles in my chest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited as hell that he’s marrying Dani, but wedding details seem to be the only thing he can talk about lately, even when Dani is more than happy to take the reins on planning. His phone calls and texts have been more sparse, and when they do come in, they all seem to be about him and Dani. It feels like our friendship is getting left on the back burner, and I can’t help but worry that it’ll stay there even after the wedding is over.

Life changes, priorities shift, and people leave. It’s an unfortunate fact of life that I’ve learned the hard way, but I’ve always had Shane. He’s the only person who’s stuck around despite everything, but now life is changing for him in a significant way.

Unable to shake the worry, I find an excuse to hang up the phone before collapsing on the couch.I’m not going to lose Shane, I tell myself. We’ve been friends since we were kids, and that’s not a bond that’s easily broken. Things are just… different now. All I need to do is get through the holidays and his wedding with my sanity intact and hope things go back to normal.

I try to distract myself with some TV, but it doesn’t do much to fill the quiet emptiness of the apartment. I usually don’t mind it, but tonight, I need to get out and do something to work off this agitation buzzing through my body.

Before I can think too hard about it, I’m in my car and headed toward Club Caliber. I’llsurelyfind a way to work out some frustration there. Even if none of my play partners are there, I can, at the very least, watch some sort of kinky scene play out.

Traffic is lighter than usual for a Friday night, but I can’t blame anyone for wanting to stay inside. It’s cold as fuck, and according to the news, there’s a massive snowstorm on the way tomorrow. I’m sure everyone has stocked up on groceries and hunkered down for the weekend.

I’m only a few blocks from the club and sitting at a red light when I see a girl about halfway down the block rushing out of her crappy van with a pizza bag hanging from her arm. All I can really make out from here is her small stature and her long blonde hair whipping in the wind as she pauses on the sidewalk to examine the buildings.

The light turns green, and I inch forward as I watch the girl almost trip over her too-large pants that are dragging on the ground. Movement catches my eye about twenty feet behind her. A man follows her, matching her pace and slowing whenever she does.

Alarm bells go off in my head, and before I can think about what I’m doing, I pull into the space behind the girl’s van. She disappears into an apartment building, and the man slows before casually leaning against the wall directly next to the door she just walked through.

I don’t like this one bit.

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