Page 58 of Cry Baby
Four.
The farther I walked into this weird hell, the quieter it got. The house blocked out whatever little noise came from the road until all I could hear was the wind rattling old tree branches and Ryan’s drunken rambling somewhere ahead.
I rounded the corner, and the backyard was even bigger than the front.
An overgrown garden swallowed what used to be stone walkways, and I couldn’t even make out the pattern anymore. A greenhouse leaned dangerously to one side, like that famous tower or whatever, and half its windows were busted out,littering the ground with broken glass that reflected the moonlight.
Ivy had climbed the back of the mansion, wrapping itself around balconies and gutters like it was trying to drag the whole damn place underground with it.
Ryan and Jailbait were near the tree line, and Caliger wasn’t walking anymore. He was mostly hanging off Cocky Asshat’s shoulder while he patiently steered him through the yard to some unknown destination only he knew about, apparently.
“You weigh a fucking ton, like your annoying ass friend,” Jailbait said with a wheezing laugh.
Ryan grinned and shook his head. “Nah…you’re just a tiny cutie and that’s my boss. Sir Grumpy Pants. He may be grumpy, but he’s got such a nice dick.”
“Hmm, must be why he’s so cocky then. I’ll take your word for it.”
I frowned and wiped my face.
These two fucks are chortling about my cock?
Who the hell did Jailbait become?
He looked…normal. Comfortable, even as he laughed with Ryan’s dumb ass. Nothing like the nervous kid I remembered first meeting.
Hell, maybe he always had some balls. He did throw that drink on me, even then.
He carried himself differently now, though. His shoulders were always back, his head held up high. Every fucking movement from him was relaxed, like he’d finally grown into his own skin.
It was fucking weird.
Or maybe just annoying, if I was being honest.
I ducked behind an old oak tree as they reached a pair of weathered cellar doors built into a small hill connecting to themansion. They were the kind you’d see on an old farmhouse, not a creepy mansion.
Ryan squinted at them and looked around nervously, like the moron had finally sobered enough to see this was sketchy as fuck.
“Why’re we down here?”
Jailbait shrugged with a smile, reaching down and opening the doors with a louder creak than the gate had made.
“Quieter.”
Ryan nodded, as if that made perfect sense, and watched Jailbait’s hand.
“Yeah…”
I winced as Jailbait let the doors fall to the ground.
Holy fuck!
Those hinges hadn’t seen oil since the Reagan administration at least.
Does he own this place?
Ryan leaned forward, trying to look inside the impossibly dark space.
“Dark…”
