Chapter 3

The air in the vintage hall was thick, heavy with the scent of old velvet and the faint, sweet smoke of cigars that clung to the drapes. Outside, the world was dark, but inside, beneath the glow of the massive, flickering neon sign that spelled out *THE DRIVE-IN* in jagged, electric pink letters, the temperature seemed to have risen five degrees. It was the next evening, the same event that had started it all, but the atmosphere had shifted. The crowds were thinner now, the noise of the cocktail chatter fading into a distant hum, leaving only the low crackle of the soundtrack from the silver screen and the rhythmic thump of the bass from the DJ booth. I had been trying to blend in, or at least, to pretend I wasn’t watching him. I wasn’t succeeding. He stood near the railing of the mezzanine, a silhouette against the bright, buzzing neon. He was talking to a group of men, but his posture was loose, relaxed, the way a predator rests when it knows the prey is already within reach. I felt a prickle of heat crawl up the back of my neck, a visceral reaction that had nothing to