Sinner

You Shoot, I'll Ride

Chapter 2

“You Shoot, I'll Run"

The two of them stopped at the front entrance of a run-down building down a dark alleyway, the burnt orange of a distant streetlight slapping against the pale door etched into a brick wall.

“Hey kid, what’s your name anyways?” Adriana asked, her eyes roaming.

“Drake” he simply replied, knocking on the wooden door.

“Drake? What’s your last name?” As the door creaked open he replied.

“Youngblood.”

***

Drake led her down a narrowing hallway as Adriana’s eyes interrogated the dull, grey walls, lumpy wooden-panel floors, and the giant bulldozer of a man who’d opened the door silently trailing behind them.

The hallway ended into a large square room, completely void of anything but a few crates, empty beer bottles, bits and pieces of glass, four boys and one girl.

Several eyes turned her way, and Adriana’s eyes narrowed uncomfortably under their gazes, her expression slipping into a poker face. Her heart thudded against her chest, her mind going a mile a minute in the silence of the dank, hollow room.

“Drake, where’ve you been, buddy?” A shaggy blonde-haired boy with narrow, brown eyes asked, stepping off of a crate he’d been sitting on, his gaze returning to Adriana. 

“What’s going on?” Drake ignored the lean-toned boy, his gaze meeting a handsome boy’s who was making his way toward the two of them, his hand tucked into his side-pocket, muscles rippling behind his plain t-shirt as he moved, his dark, spiky hair jutting out over inquisitive, brown eyes.

Drake spoke up, “where’s Nicholai?”

The word client flashed past Adriana’s eyes, and she suddenly recalled why she’d been brought here in the first place. 

Adriana parted her lips, but was unsure of just what to say. The atmosphere of the room, of these people, it was strange to her. Her hazel blue eyes drifted past the walls, resting on a pile of crates as she kept away from the people.

“He went out looking for you.” The room went silent, and the previous blonde haired boy pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, leaning against a wall.

“What’ve you been doing?” The dark haired boy asked, his gaze flickering toward Adriana and back.

Drake shook his head somewhat childishly, whipping his pale blonde hair back and forth.

“I need Nicolai here too.” Adriana’s eyebrow involuntarily quirked, he was most definitely the client.

“Where the hell have you been?” An angry voice growled. Their heads snapped toward the opening in the hallway, and Adriana’s eyes landed on a muscular boy in a plain, black t-shirt and baggy jeans with spiky, black hair jutting out over his left eye in a fringe; he had a motorcycle helmet propped against his side with his right arm.

He confidently strode over toward Drake, staring down at the boy with his intense, brown eyes.

“Who told you you could just leave?” He asked in his husky voice.

Drake, who’d been staring at the latter’s shoes, tilted his head up, casting the boy a puppy-dog pout.

The boy, Nicolai perhaps, leaned down, ruffling Drake’s ash blonde hair. “Where’d you go, man?” He asked, and Adriana could hear the smile in his voice.