Page 15 of Anger

The storm in me was mild that night because it was just the beginning.

Ever since, it’s as if all the characters of my childhood are trying to crash back into my world.

Red doesn’t want me.

And now my father won’t stop calling.

Even now as I’m about to reach the front door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I stop in place despite the light drizzle of rain falling on my head and yank the phone from my pocket.

William’s name flashes on the screen, and I don’t have to wonder what the old fuck wants.

He lost his golden ticket just before we graduated from Yale. Knowing that dickhead, he’s already burned through everything he gained from us.

Hitting end call, I stuff my phone back in my pocket and close the remaining distance to the front door of the club.

“There’s no way in hell.”

The bouncer, Patrick, takes one look at me and shakes his head, laughter in his voice when he implies I should pound sand.

A smile inches across my face because one fighter always recognizes another. He probably enjoyed taking me to the ground with a quick, heavy elbow to my spine and his feet tripping mine.

“I let you win that night,” I reply.

Knowing I’m already busted, I might as well make a joke of it.

Patrick is a massive guy. Not somebody you’d want to meet in a dark alley if he was the type to hurt people for the fun of it. His shoulders are the same width as mine, but he stands at least an inch taller, and his arms are as big around as tree trunks.

“Sure you did.”

Eyeing me with curiosity, he sits down on a wooden stool and crosses his arms over his chest. It just makes his biceps bulge larger.

Am I intimidated?

Not in the slightest.

But jealous?

Yeah, maybe a little.

Patrick put in some work for those guns.

His brown eyes search my face.

“How many nights did you spend in jail for that fight anyway?”

I smirk. “One. Not even twenty-four hours, really. Think I was still drunk when they pulled me out.”

A shake of his head. “Man. Now this is why you assholes don’t learn anything.”

He pauses for a few seconds, scans the parking lot, then turns back to me.

“Can’t let you in.”

Rolling my eyes, I already know where this is going. I pull my wallet from my pocket and extract a crisp hundred.

“For this, I think you can.”

The most I get is side-eye as he continues watching the parking lot.

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