Page 9 of The Hallows Queen

Happy birthday, Hay. Call me.

12:01AM Carson:

Happy birthday brother

12:14AM Levi:

Happy birthday bitchhhhh

Lockingmy phone without responding to any of my friends, the stoplight turns green, and I slam my foot down on the accelerator to turn out onto Main Street. My knuckles hurt from beating my steering wheel, but I can’t find anything inside of me to give a shit.

I park my Maserati in a space on the edge of the street, turn off the engine, then dig around in my center console. The first pill bottle I pull out is empty, so I toss it onto the floor and grab the next. I twist the top off, pour three Xanax bars onto my palm, and then put the bottle back. Putting the bars on my tongue, I grab the old beer in my cup holder and take a swig.

I have about ten minutes before my head is swimming, so I grab my wallet and keys and swing the door open.

I double check that I have my fake ID inside my LV billfold before I slip it into the back pocket of my jeans, not that I’ve ever been carded at Amethyst before – the guy that owns the joint can barely see straight.

Running a hand through my dark hair, I walk across the street toward the club, trying to give myself thatdon’t-give-a-fucklook that generally works for me, then I turn my phone off and put it in my pocket.

I appreciate my best friends texting me at midnight, but I’ll have tomorrow to say thank you. Tonight, I’m going to be free. I’m eighteen – fuckingfinally– and I want to feel something.

While the Xanax numbs the parts inside of me clawing for an escape, I’m hoping a cold beer or three will push me right into that sweet spot of fucked-up where I can laugh.

God,I want to fucking laugh.

Even just for tonight, even without the friends who have grown to be family, in a loud club with randoms. Maybe with someone swallowing down my cock like it’s made of gold.

I nod at the familiar security guard as I pass through the open rope, heading into the dim entrance of the club. The darkness of the club greets me like an old friend as I walk through the sweet and smoky buzz of people. I feel my lips twitching with pleasure like they want to smile, and my gaze runs over the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room.

It’s like they’ve all gathered here for my birthday without knowing it, just waiting for me to take advantage and suck them dry for all they can give me.

I head for the bar first, needing a beer, and tap my fingers at my sides to the electronic song bouncing through the speakers. The bartender is one I recognize, a little blonde who has gargled my balls on more than one occasion. I nod my head at her, and she reaches under the bar to grab me a beer without asking what I want.

She sets it down in front of me, popping the cap and resting her tits against the wood of the bar. “Hayden.”

I take a mouthful of the beer. “Hey.”

I don’t remember her name.

“You’re never here on Thursday night,” she muses, her bright lips twisting up on the sides. “You miss me?”

“No, it’s my birthday,” I say, swallowing down another mouthful of beer.

“Ohmigod!” she squeals. “Happy birthday! Your beer’s on me.”

I tip my head in thanks. “I appreciate it.”

She leans in a little closer, showing me her white teeth. “I get a break in a half hour, if you’re interested.”

The implication is clear, and while my dick twitches in my pants, I decide to shut her down.

I nod toward the dance floor. “Gonna see what else is out there.”

Her smile falters slightly, but she forces herself to appear unaffected. I smirk at her, wrapping my hand around her throat. “But if I change my mind, I know whose mouth to come in.”

She swallows thickly against my palm before I drop it, trying to mask the wound I’ve inflicted. “I’ll be here.”

My brows quirk. Grabbing my beer, I turn and weave through the masses of people as I drink it slowly. As the Xanax infiltrates my bloodstream, my thoughts fade and my steps slow. My hips sway to the music lazily, and once I’ve cut through the crowd, I drop down on one of the empty couches to people watch.

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