Page 15 of Dirty Saint

“Yeah, I did.”

It wasn’t a lie. After I was able to relax, I enjoyed the races.

“Good.” She leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. Her window was down, and the cool night air shifted her blond hair across her face. “Maybe I can talk you into going again next weekend.”

It wouldn’t happen, but I didn’t respond to tell her that.

I turned when Sadie told me to turn, and soon, we were pulling into a run-down neighborhood just on the city's outskirts. The houses were older and small, and a few had broken windows and destroyed yards. People sat on their porches even though it was the middle of the night. There were cars on blocks and barking dogs chained behind fences. It was a nicer neighborhood than my apartment complex, but not nearly as nice as what I had before my father was taken away.

I took in the houses around us until Sadie directed me to pull into the driveway of one of the better places in the neighborhood. The yard was littered with cars and motorcycles, and every window in the house had light pouring out of it, except for one front window. Music blaring from the house shook the car windows.

I parked the car, got out, and followed Sadie across the yard to the front porch. People were laughing on the porch, cups in hand and smoke billowing from their lips. We slid past them and into the house, where a party was in full swing. Sadie chatted with people she knew as we passed until I found myself in a comfortable corner listening as she conversed with a group of girls who were as drunk as she was. One sniffed something from the screen of her phone before passing it to the next.

I was introduced to a few people whose names I didn’t bother to remember, and as the night wound down and the crowd slowed, I took the time to take in the faces of those I saw at The Strip earlier in the night. It was weird to be in a room full of people close to my age. Somehow, I felt as if I were years older than them. Maybe I had lived a more challenging life. Perhaps my time on earth had moved slower due to my less-than-stellar circumstances.

I shifted my feet, my old shoes barely having any form of padding under my heels, and fire stormed through my body when my eyes settled over yet another familiar face from my past.

He was older and covered in tattoos, but I would never forget the conniving smile of the boy who sat on the witness stand and said he had seen my father kill his father with his own two eyes.

Zayne Wilder.

He was just another liar like Koah. It wasn’t until months later that I found out Koah and Zayne, who had then started going by the name Joker, were best friends.

My eyes moved around the room, searching for Koah to see if they were still as thick as thieves, but Koah was nowhere to be found. Once I realized Koah wasn’t at the party, I locked my eyes on Joker. I watched his every move—his sinister smile and the way he worked the women at the party. It didn’t take long until his frosty blue eyes were locked with mine.

His smile dropped, and his eyes thinned as he scowled back at me from across the room. He knew who I was, and I was glad. Slowly, the side of his lips tilted up, and I felt like all hell was about to break loose.

He moved through the party as if he were having a casual stroll, giving me plenty of time to make an escape I didn’t plan on making. And when he finally stood before me, glaring down at me with bloodshot, drunken eyes, I didn’t blink when I stared back at him.

“Does Saint know you’re here?” he asked, shocking me.

I had expected a tongue-lashing, not a question.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” I answered.

I wasn’t about to admit that I had already scanned the party, and I knew Koah was nowhere to be found.

Joker nodded, accepting any answer as he pulled a joint from behind his ear and lit it. After a deep pull, he blew the smoke directly into my face. I coughed and waved the smoke away, making him chuckle.

“So let’s see ’em, then,” he said, taking another hit from his joint.

“See what?” I asked, confused.

He nodded at the space between my thighs and sucked his bottom lip between jagged teeth. “The massive set of balls you have tucked between your thighs.”

“Excuse me?”

Another hit, and again, he blew smoke into my face. “I’m not hating, baby. I’m just saying … if you got ’em, flaunt ’em.”

“I don’t get your point.”

He moved closer; the smell of liquor and dope invaded my space. “I’m saying it takes some big fucking balls for you to walk into my house like you belong here.”

My spine went stiff. I hadn’t known I was in Joker’s house.

“Did you come here to fuck with him?” he asked, sticking the remaining piece of the lit joint into his mouth and swallowing it.

I had never seen a person eat a lit joint, but then again, I knew I was dealing with a crazy guy.

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