He must hate me, I thought. He must want nothing to do with me. He must still be furious, and that’s why he’d made no effort to contact me.
The trouble with that train of thought was that it only made me angry again. Here I was, worrying about him, but chances were, wherever he was, he wasn’t worrying about me. He’d said he wasn’t going to just swallow my decision to break up, but that’s exactly what he’d done. He hadn’t texted or called. He hadn’t anything. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a reason. He could knock on my door right this very minute and tell me what he’d been doing at Marcie’s two nights ago. He could tell me why he’d driven off when I told him I loved him.
Yes, I was angry. Only this time, I was going to do something about it.
I slammed the home phone down and scrolled through my cell phone, looking for Scott’s number. I was going to throw caution to the wind and take him up on his offer. Even though I knew it was for all the wrong reasons, I wanted to go out with Scott. I wanted to give Patch the finger. If he thought I was going to sit home and cry over him, he was wrong. We’d broken up; I was free to go out with other guys. And while I was at it, I was going to test Patch’s ability to keep me safe. Maybe Scott really was Nephilim. Maybe he was even trouble. Maybe he was exactly the kind of guy I should stay away from. I felt a hard smile cross my face as I realized it didn’t matter what I did, or what Scott might do; Patch had to protect me.
“Have you left for Springvale yet?” I asked Scott, after keying in his number.
“Hanging with me isn’t so bad after all?”
“If you’re going to rub it in, I’m not going.” I heard him smile. “Easy, Grey, I’m just playing with you.” I’d promised my mom I’d keep my distance from Scott, but I wasn’t worried. If Scott messed with me, Patch would have to step in.
“Well?” I said. “Are you going to pick me up or what?”
“I’ll swing by after seven.”
Springvale is a small fishing town, and most of it is crammed onto Main Street: the post office, a few fish-and-chips diners, tackle shops, and the Z Pool Hall.
The Z stood one story high, with a plate-glass window offering a view inside to the pool hall and bar. Trash and weeds decorated the exterior. Two men with shaved heads and goatees were smoking on the sidewalk just outside the doors; they ground out their cigarettes and disappeared inside.
Scott parked in an angled slot near the doors. “I’m going to run down a couple blocks and find an ATM,” he said, killing the engine.
I studied the storefront sign hanging above the window. THE Z
POOL HALL. The name tickled my memory.
“Why does this place sound familiar?” I asked.
“Couple weeks back a guy bled out on one of the tables. Bar brawl. It was all over the news.”
Oh.
“I’ll come with you,” I offered quickly.
He swung out, and I followed suit. “Nah,” he called over the rain. “You’ll get soaked. Wait inside. I’ll be back in ten.” Without giving me another chance to tag along, he hunched his shoulders against the rain, shoved his hands in his pockets, and jogged down the sidewalk.
Slicking rain off my face, I tucked myself under the building’s overhang and summed up my options. I could go inside alone, or I could wait here for Scott. I hadn’t waited five seconds before my skin started to itch. While the sidewalk held little foot traffic, it wasn’t completely desolate. Those who were out in the weather wore flannel shirts and work boots. They looked bigger, tougher, meaner than the men who loitered around Main Street in Cold-water. A few gave me eyes as they passed.
I looked down the sidewalk in the direction Scott had taken off and saw him round the building and disappear down the side all ey. My first thought was that he was going to have a hard side all ey. My first thought was that he was going to have a hard time finding an ATM in the all ey next to the Z. My second thought was that maybe he’d lied to me. Maybe he wasn’t going in search of an ATM after all. But then what was he doing in an all ey, out in the rain? I wanted to follow him but didn’t know how I was going to stay out of sight. The last thing I needed was for him to catch me spying on him again. It certainly wouldn’t promote trust between us.
Thinking maybe I could figure out what he was doing by watching through one of the windows inside the Z, I tugged on the door handle.
The air inside was cool and coated with smoke and male perspiration. The ceiling was low, the walls concrete. A few posters of muscle cars, a Sports Illustrated calendar, and a Budweiser mirror offered the only decoration. No windows paneled the wall dividing me from Scott. I strolled down the center aisle, wading deeper into the shadowy hall, and kept my breathing shallow, trying to filter my intake of carcinogens.
When I got to the back of the Z, I fixed my eyes on the exit leading into the rear all ey. Not quite as convenient as a window, but it would have to do. If Scott caught me watching him, I could always feign innocence and claim I’d stepped out for fresh air.
After making sure no one was watching, I opened the door and stuck my head out.
Hands grabbed the collar of my jean jacket, yanked me out, and backed me against the brick exterior.
“What are you doing here?” Patch demanded. Rain hissed down behind him, spilling off the metal awning.
“Playing pool,” I stammered, my heart still frozen from the surprise of being ripped off my feet.