Page 15 of Ruin
“You don’t have to be such a dick to me, you know.”
“Apparently I do, because no matter how many times I tell you I don’t want to fucking talk, you keep trying to make me talk.”
“I’m just trying to be a good brother,” he says back, sounding offended.
I huff out a laugh. “Maybe you should have done that twenty fucking years ago.”
I walk off, not letting him respond. I don’t need to hear whatever excuse he’s going to give me.
I run into Grizz on the way, and he hands me a fresh cup full of beer. I take it, plus the one in his other hand.
“Goddamnit, Snapper,” he complains, but I walk away from him too.
If I weren’t a major part of this, I’d already be gone. I can’t stand anyone here, and they’re all getting under my fucking skin.
I drink my beer as I walk, making my way through the crowd until I find a spot to the side of the stage that’s empty. The magician will be here soon, but I should be safe for a while. Long enough to compose myself before I have to go out there and pretend to give a fuck about things that don’t matter.
When one cup is empty, I place the other cup inside it since I don’t see a trash close by.
“Hi, Mr. You’re really tall.”
I glance down to find a little kid staring at me. Maybe seven years old. I have no fucking idea what kids look like at certain ages. He’s got a mop of red curly hair, lots of freckles, and he’s choking the life out of a stuffed rabbit that’s tucked under his arm. If it were real, it’d be dead.
“Where’s your parents, kid?” I ask.
He shrugs, stepping closer to me and reaching up to poke the reaper tattoo on my forearm. “Does this come off?”
“No.”
“Is it magic?”
“No.”
“Can I get one too?” he asks, looking up at me with bright green eyes.
“Where are your parents?” I ask again. This time, he only stares at me. “What’s your name?”
“Travis.”
What a fucking name.
“Come on, kid. Let’s go find your parents.”
I offer out my hand, as much as I don’t want to take his. It’s probably sticky and has either been up his nose or in his ass. Maybe both. Kids are so fucking gross.
We get maybe ten steps before a woman with matching red hair dashes over.
“Oh my god, Travis!” she shouts. “Babe, I got him! He’s here, I found him!”
“Hi, Mommy,” he says with a smile. “I made a new friend and he has magic on his skin.”
The woman drops in front of him, running her hands through his messy hair and I tug my hand back.
“Are you okay?” she asks him.
“I’m fine,” he whines, pushing her away.
“I cannot thank you enough. We were looking at one of the vendors, and then he was just gone.”
