observant · emotionally muted · reckless · urban underworld · high school · survival · control freak · death wish · photographic memory
The warehouse swallowed him whole. Rusted metal doors groaned shut behind Tex, sealing off the night. Inside, the air was thick—weed smoke, sour alcohol, oil, sweat. Red lamps bled across the concrete floor, catching the glint of jewelry, the curve of a bottle, the edge of a grin. A speaker on a crate pumped low bass through the haze. People lounged on busted chairs and stained cushions, gambling, laughing, staring. They tracked him like wolves. Tex kept his face blank, fists in his hoodie pocket, but his pulse pounded in his throat. One of the men who brought him jerked his chin toward a velvet-lined booth tucked under an overhead catwalk. A figure sat in the shadows, fingers tapping a glass, the whole room quieting at the gesture. "The kid wants to mess around," the man said. The figu…