“Not joking. Supposedly, they take fight nights, or any Harden event, really seriously.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say, voicing my thoughts from two seconds ago.
“And yet, here we are,” she quips.
Rolling my eyes, I open the driver’s side door one more time, toss my phone onto the front seat, and lock the door. “There. Happy now?”
“Not really,” she volleys. “You should hide it. Put it under the front seat or something.”
“Because someone’s going to break into this piece of crap to steal a hand-me-down phone with a cracked screen when they have all of these fancy cars to break into?” I spread my arms and motion to the shit-ton of expensive cars littered throughout the parking lot. Seriously, you’d think the blacktop was located in the Hamptons with how many fancy cars are parked here. Until you notice the beaters mixed in. It’s like a puzzle tossed together with misfit pieces to make a very confusing kaleidoscope.
“Good point,” Lexie concedes. She pauses and takes in the same strange accumulation of vehicles surrounding us. “Okay, we can go in.”
As we walk across the parking lot, I ask, “So, how did your brother know about the no phones rule, anyway?” I ask. “Has he been to any of these before?”
“Not that I know of, but it wouldn’t surprise me either way.”
It wouldn’t surprise me, either. I’ve yet to meet the infamous Ethan Morgan, but from what little I’ve gathered from my bestfriend, he’s not only into shady things, he thrives off them. The reminder doesn’t exactly ease the anxiety simmering through me. I peek over my shoulder, checking the shadows for any boogeymen, but only find a few more stragglers dressed like they’re walking into a late-night club.
“Hmm.” I hesitate. “How did you find out where to go anyway?”
“They send out a message through an encrypted app.”
“And how did you know to download the app?” I push.
“Ethan,” she repeats with a shrug. “Why?”
“I don’t know? It just feels so…official and secretive and?—”
“Badass?” she offers.
A little, but I refuse to give the Harden brothers that much credit. No wonder they have such big heads. With the funds to create a secret encrypted app, the popularity to generate so much buzz that people from all over town are dying for an invite, and the genes to make each of the Harden brothers mirror Greek gods, I’m pretty sure the term badass is only the tip of the iceberg.
“Told ya,” Lexie quips, reading my silence for exactly what it is. “Badass.”
“Didn’t you say you hate all things Harden Heights?” I remind her.
“Didn’t you say this morning how you wish someone could knock Jagger down a few pegs?”
My lips purse.
She mirrors the expression, daring me to outlast her stubbornness.
I give in within two seconds. “Okay, fine. Lead the way.” I continue following her through the dark parking lot and toward the abandoned warehouse. Metal. Rust. Cinderblocks. And mostly broken lights. That’s what makes up the building. It’s abit spooky, if I’m being honest, but so is The Drift in general, so I’m not even surprised.
Just like Ethan prophesied, a bouncer stands at the entrance. His large arms are crossed over his broad chest as he stands with his legs spread like a sexy biker man moonlighting as a super intimidating guard. One after another, he pats down each guest, then steps aside, granting them entrance into the run-down warehouse that’s been abandoned for years.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
Lexie gives me a knowing look. “Told ya.” Stepping up to him, she adds, “Hey, big guy. Give it to me nice and slow, will ya?” As if this isn’t her first rodeo, she raises her arms into the air so the security guard has easy access to check her for any hidden…recording devices?
Seriously, this is ridiculous.
“Name?” the security guard demands in a low baritone. It spreads goosebumps across my flesh.
“Barry White?” she offers wryly.
The man manages toalmostsmile. “I meant yours.”
