Ink Exchange
Page 48
"Is Keenan with them?"
"Yeah, he's there too." Glenn scowled, but he didn't say more.
The door opened behind Leslie. Glenn turned to the newcomer. "Ten-dollar cover."
Leslie leaned in and asked, "Inflation?"
"Nah. Doorman's prerogative." He quirked his mouth in a crooked smile.
She shook her head and started to walk off, but Glenn put a hand on her arm.
"Watch yourself. All sorts of freaks in town tonight." Glenn shot a glance over the crowded room. The usual familiar faces were there, but a lot of strangers were in the crowd too. Maybe that's what all the fights were about: maybe gangs were moving in.
No. It felt weird to think it, but somehow she suspected that the fights were tied to her. It seemed solipsistic to consider it, but the idea felt true.
Or I'm losing it.
"You okay?" Glenn raised his voice to be heard over the increasing din, and she felt a wave of something— protectiveness—roll from him. "I could get Tim to watch the door and—"
"No, I'm cool." She didn't feel nervous, not tonight, not anymore. Her hand strayed to her tattoo, hidden under her shirt. "Thanks, though."
She squeezed her way through the crowd to Seth and Aislinn. They sat as close together as they could while still remaining on separate chairs.
Aislinn looked up. "Hey."
Beside her, Seth nodded and looked meaningfully at Aislinn and then back at Leslie. "You should talk."
"Sure." Leslie slid into the chair Seth pushed toward her. She leaned toward Aislinn. "Seth says you have something to tell me. Secret spilling and all that."
"I'm sorry about not telling you; I just wanted to keep you safe" — Aislinn bit her lip—"from things. When I heard about Ren's—"
"Don't," Leslie interrupted, waiting for the panic to hit, but it was just a dull roar. "You know my secrets. Got it."
"You're right." Aislinn took a deep breath before looking at Seth for assurance.
Keenan approached the table with sodas for Aislinn and Seth and a glass of wine for himself. He handed Seth the drinks and turned to her. "Niall's not here yet. What shall I get you?"
"Nothing." She didn't have much cash on her, and accepting anything from Keenan made her uncomfortable, especially after the other night.
He scowled briefly at the crowd between him and the bar. "Soda? Tea? Water?"
"Nothing."
"Would—"
"Nothing," she interrupted in a firm voice. She stood back up. She needed to get away from Keenan. Now. She told Aislinn, "Come find me when you figure out what you're trying to say."
But Keenan came closer, beside Aislinn, putting himself between her and Leslie.
Get away from him. He's danger. Enemy. Not us. Leslie stared out at the throng of bodies. The band was awful but she wanted to move, burn some energy, ride out whatever rush she had going from the ink.
"We need to talk, Leslie." Aislinn sounded so serious, so worried.
Leslie forced herself to look at Aislinn. "Sure. I'll be on the dance floor when you're ready."
Leslie stepped away from the table, feeling the increasing pressure to get away from Keenan, to run. Her hands trembled from trying to stay still.
"Leslie, stop," Keenan said as he grabbed the bottom of her shirt.
Aislinn took hold of his wrist but couldn't push him away. "What are you doing?"
Keenan put his other hand on Leslie's hip and turned her. He lifted her shirt, baring Leslie's whole back to Aislinn and anyone who was near. "Look."
Aislinn gasped. "What have you done, Les?"
"Got a tattoo. You knew that." Leslie pulled out of Keenan's grasp. "Lots of people have them. Maybe you should be asking your idiot boyfriend here what he's doing. I don't appreciate being treated like—"
"She doesn't know, Aislinn." Keenan sounded weirdly gentle, soothing as if warm breezes were riding on his voice.
But Leslie felt her anger rising with each word that fell from his lips. This anger was not fleeting or fading.
Danger. He's dangerous to us. She paused. Us?
Keenan looked inhuman as he stepped closer to her. Some trick of the club lights made him glow like a golden effigy come to life. His voice burned her skin when he demanded, "Who did it?"
She crossed her arms, half-hugging herself, refusing to give in to the urge to run. Fear vied with anger, but she tilted her head to glare at him. "Why? You want one?"
"Tell me." Keenan gave her a look so predatory, she felt her stomach twist in fear. It was a terrifying look—but no one else saw it. Aislinn and Seth were watching her, not Keenan.
She'd had enough. Her anger and fear fled again; she smiled with a cruelty she didn't remember owning. "Back off, Keenan. I'm not yours to command. Not now. Not ever. Don't cross me, kingling."
Kingling?
They weren't her words. They didn't make sense. But she felt better for saying them. She walked away and wiggled through the crowd until she reached the front of the stage. She felt like she was looking for someone, the one who would make it all better. Where are you? The thought repeated like a chant in her mind, so much so that she must have said it aloud.
He answered, "I'm right here."
And she knew who it was without looking. "Irial."
"Yeah, he's there too." Glenn scowled, but he didn't say more.
The door opened behind Leslie. Glenn turned to the newcomer. "Ten-dollar cover."
Leslie leaned in and asked, "Inflation?"
"Nah. Doorman's prerogative." He quirked his mouth in a crooked smile.
She shook her head and started to walk off, but Glenn put a hand on her arm.
"Watch yourself. All sorts of freaks in town tonight." Glenn shot a glance over the crowded room. The usual familiar faces were there, but a lot of strangers were in the crowd too. Maybe that's what all the fights were about: maybe gangs were moving in.
No. It felt weird to think it, but somehow she suspected that the fights were tied to her. It seemed solipsistic to consider it, but the idea felt true.
Or I'm losing it.
"You okay?" Glenn raised his voice to be heard over the increasing din, and she felt a wave of something— protectiveness—roll from him. "I could get Tim to watch the door and—"
"No, I'm cool." She didn't feel nervous, not tonight, not anymore. Her hand strayed to her tattoo, hidden under her shirt. "Thanks, though."
She squeezed her way through the crowd to Seth and Aislinn. They sat as close together as they could while still remaining on separate chairs.
Aislinn looked up. "Hey."
Beside her, Seth nodded and looked meaningfully at Aislinn and then back at Leslie. "You should talk."
"Sure." Leslie slid into the chair Seth pushed toward her. She leaned toward Aislinn. "Seth says you have something to tell me. Secret spilling and all that."
"I'm sorry about not telling you; I just wanted to keep you safe" — Aislinn bit her lip—"from things. When I heard about Ren's—"
"Don't," Leslie interrupted, waiting for the panic to hit, but it was just a dull roar. "You know my secrets. Got it."
"You're right." Aislinn took a deep breath before looking at Seth for assurance.
Keenan approached the table with sodas for Aislinn and Seth and a glass of wine for himself. He handed Seth the drinks and turned to her. "Niall's not here yet. What shall I get you?"
"Nothing." She didn't have much cash on her, and accepting anything from Keenan made her uncomfortable, especially after the other night.
He scowled briefly at the crowd between him and the bar. "Soda? Tea? Water?"
"Nothing."
"Would—"
"Nothing," she interrupted in a firm voice. She stood back up. She needed to get away from Keenan. Now. She told Aislinn, "Come find me when you figure out what you're trying to say."
But Keenan came closer, beside Aislinn, putting himself between her and Leslie.
Get away from him. He's danger. Enemy. Not us. Leslie stared out at the throng of bodies. The band was awful but she wanted to move, burn some energy, ride out whatever rush she had going from the ink.
"We need to talk, Leslie." Aislinn sounded so serious, so worried.
Leslie forced herself to look at Aislinn. "Sure. I'll be on the dance floor when you're ready."
Leslie stepped away from the table, feeling the increasing pressure to get away from Keenan, to run. Her hands trembled from trying to stay still.
"Leslie, stop," Keenan said as he grabbed the bottom of her shirt.
Aislinn took hold of his wrist but couldn't push him away. "What are you doing?"
Keenan put his other hand on Leslie's hip and turned her. He lifted her shirt, baring Leslie's whole back to Aislinn and anyone who was near. "Look."
Aislinn gasped. "What have you done, Les?"
"Got a tattoo. You knew that." Leslie pulled out of Keenan's grasp. "Lots of people have them. Maybe you should be asking your idiot boyfriend here what he's doing. I don't appreciate being treated like—"
"She doesn't know, Aislinn." Keenan sounded weirdly gentle, soothing as if warm breezes were riding on his voice.
But Leslie felt her anger rising with each word that fell from his lips. This anger was not fleeting or fading.
Danger. He's dangerous to us. She paused. Us?
Keenan looked inhuman as he stepped closer to her. Some trick of the club lights made him glow like a golden effigy come to life. His voice burned her skin when he demanded, "Who did it?"
She crossed her arms, half-hugging herself, refusing to give in to the urge to run. Fear vied with anger, but she tilted her head to glare at him. "Why? You want one?"
"Tell me." Keenan gave her a look so predatory, she felt her stomach twist in fear. It was a terrifying look—but no one else saw it. Aislinn and Seth were watching her, not Keenan.
She'd had enough. Her anger and fear fled again; she smiled with a cruelty she didn't remember owning. "Back off, Keenan. I'm not yours to command. Not now. Not ever. Don't cross me, kingling."
Kingling?
They weren't her words. They didn't make sense. But she felt better for saying them. She walked away and wiggled through the crowd until she reached the front of the stage. She felt like she was looking for someone, the one who would make it all better. Where are you? The thought repeated like a chant in her mind, so much so that she must have said it aloud.
He answered, "I'm right here."
And she knew who it was without looking. "Irial."
