The guys who filled the expansive room were a weird mix of hipsters and Goths. I’d never seen so much nasty facial hair, so many tight pants, piercings, and tattoos in one place. I couldn’t help thinking of the party I’d happened upon at Daniel’s old apartment on Markham Street—the one that had sent me running scared into the night—only this was twenty times worse. This was definitely the kind of place I always imagined the adults in Rose Crest were trying to keep us away from when they told us stories about the Markham Street Monster.

“There’s the Wi-Fi station,” April said. Her voice still shook a bit. “That’s gotta be where Jude contacted me from.” She started toward a group of narrow metal tables with rows of bolted-down laptops on the far left-hand side of the club, slightly removed from all the commotion.

“What are you doing? I thought the plan was to stick to the shadows?”

“You’re supposed to stick to the shadows. Keep an eye out for your brother, maybe ask around. I’m the bait.” She fluffed her curls and plumped her pink lips. “If Jude’s here, then I want him to see me. We’ll lure him out into the open.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” Even from our spot in a dark corner, I could tell we were drawing more attention than I cared for. I knew April had been going for sexy with her choice of outfit, but her denim jacket and pink-sequined tank stood out like a neon HELLO, I’M CLUELESS AND VULNERABLE! sign in this sea of black leather and piercings.

And vinyl pants or no vinyl pants, I’m sure I looked just as poseresque as she did.

“If Jude’s here, then the person he’s most likely to approach is me. Just stick to the shadows and keep an eye out.” April sauntered over to the Wi-Fi station. With a flourish, she swept her blond curls over her shoulder and sat at the computer. I cringed at how innocent she looked, sitting there out in the open.

I decided to stay close to the perimeter, circle the room, and keep one eye out for Jude and the other eye on April. I made it once around the whole club without making eye contact with anyone, but then realized that I probably did need to ask around if I planned on finding anything out about Jude. I stood in a corner for a minute, working up my courage, and then noticed someone I actually recognized among a group of guys at one of the gaming stations. Under their tattoos, most of the guys looked like they couldn’t be much older than me, and the one sitting with a wireless game paddle off to the side of the group looked all too familiar.

Pete’s friend … the one he called Ty. I glanced around me, wondering if that meant Pete was somewhere nearby—he was the last person I wanted to run into in this place—but it seemed like Ty was here without him. I knew the guy had thrown me against a brick wall the night before, but I hoped he was still freaked enough by Daniel leveling his friends that he wouldn’t give me any trouble if I tried to question him. Besides, he seemed relatively docile compared to most of the guys at his gaming station.

Ty frantically pushed buttons on his controller and chanted, “Come on, come on,” under his breath, so he didn’t notice me sidle up behind him. I was about to tap him on the shoulder when the tattoo-painted guy next to him shot straight up and started screaming obscenities at the screen.

“Who just killed me?” he roared.

Ty dropped his controller on the metal table in front of him and tried to scramble out of his chair, but the angry gamer grabbed him by his jacket and yanked him up so hard his feet dangled just above the concrete floor.

“Did you just kill me?” the gamer shouted into Ty’s face.

“I’m sorry, man.” Ty’s voice quavered. “I’ve never played this game before.”

“Who let this newb in here?”

The gamer threw Ty against his chair. It tipped backward and almost knocked me over. I hopped out of the way just in time. The gamer kept screaming at Ty and then shoved another guy who hadn’t even been involved in the argument. If this was how they felt about new people around here, then I needed to get away fast before an all-out brawl broke out. I turned to dash from the scene, but I’d taken only a few stumbling steps in my stupid heels when I ran straight into what seemed to be a flannel-covered brick wall.

“Whoa, there. You okay?”

The brick wall speaks?

I took a slight step back and looked up to see that I’d smacked right into the chest of a guy wearing a flannel shirt. He looked down at me with wide green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and took another step back. “I didn’t see you there.”

But really, I didn’t know how I hadn’t noticed this guy before. I mean, if I thought I stood out here, how had I not noticed someone like him in a place like this? While the current fashion statement in the club involved ink and an abundance of black, this guy wore a green flannel shirt, light blue jeans, and a large bronze antiquey-looking belt buckle that resembled a Texas marshal’s star. He had wavy hair the color of milk chocolate that stuck out from under the edges of his blue baseball cap, and his tan face was completely free of weird markings or bad facial hair, unlike most of the guys here. I looked down, expecting him to be wearing cowboy boots, but instead he had on a pair of gray Nike running shoes—otherwise, he would have looked like he’d sauntered right in here off a ranch or farm or something.

He gave me a friendly smile—making his tanned, chiseled cheeks dimple—and he wrapped his warm fingers around my elbow. “A pretty girl like you should be more careful in a place like this,” he said, and pulled me farther away from the fight that brewed behind me.

“Yeah. Um. I know. Sorry.”

His large, callused hand was still on my elbow. His words—pretty girl like you—finally sank into my brain. I bit my lip as heat rushed into my cheeks. I wanted to excuse myself and run off to hide in the bathroom or something.

The guy’s smile widened, and it struck me that there was something about him—perhaps the shape of his mouth, or the tone of his voice—that seemed inexplicably, yet comfortingly, familiar. Like the first wafting scent of warm caramel-apple pie on Thanksgiving Day after a full year of not having tasted it. I realized then that for the same reason this guy stood out like a sore thumb in this place, he was probably the only person here I’d actually feel safe asking about Jude. “Hey, can I ask you something?”