My exit was interrupted by someone rudely bumping into me. I sighed, knowing this could turn south at a party with drunk students. He looked a bit drunk, and his eyes lit up as recognition hit him. “Hey! You’re Brent?” Words slurring, his face contorted into something that looked like anger.

“Yup,” I said, emphasizing the ‘p’ and expressing my annoyance with a grunt. I crossed my arms, looking him over.

I saw what he was doing before he knew what he was doing. An arm wound up and aimed a punch directly at my face. Easily slipping his sloppy punch, I caught his arm. “Whatcha doing?”

He spit in my face. “You slept with my girlfriend!”

A few eyes turned in our direction and I heard a couple of chuckles from the back as I wiped my face.

“So?” I smirked.

Anger grew behind his drunken gaze. “You’re a–a bitch! That’s my girl, man...” He tried to yank his arm from my grip.

“Nah,” I said, shoving him back. “She wasn’t your girlfriend. Sounds like it was just your turn, bro.”

With that, he snapped and charged for me. Another easy slip–he was far too drunk for this. Shoving him to the ground as I chuckled from the pure stupidity of our interaction, I left him in a mess on the floor while he muttered some other insults and slipped out the back to enjoy a cigarette in peace.

Contemplating the meeting with my grandfather, I took mental notes of what I’d gotten out of John before his inevitable–too early–death. Damn Reaper for being trigger happy. Work had been picking up with whispers of traitors and rumblings of something I wasn’t privy to just yet.

Nothing a cigarette couldn’t fix.

I leaned up against the railing, flipping my zippo out of my pocket with a case of cigarettes. The nicotine settled the feelings in my bones and gave me a rush at the same time. The best of both worlds, I thought as I took my first puff, looking at the party goers in the yard living their best lives.

A lot of these kids did dirty business like I did–just without the death part. We all held our places in this filthy little world of the elites. Some of them were here for fun before joining the family business, and others were here to keep tabs on the others. Not all was what it seemed at Willow Bay.

The back door opened and that cute little blonde that lives across the street from me rushed out looking a hot mess. Hmm, I wonder what has her flustered like that. She adjusted her hair and outfit, looking like she felt out of place here. She looked like the type of fun I was looking for tonight, but her posture said something else that I couldn’t quite put my finger on...