King of Forgotten Clubs Read Online Free PDF

desperate, but I still knew better than to declare willingness to do anything around Birdie.
    “Talk to Annabelle. And I mean seriously talk.” Give Birdie a cause and she turned into a one-woman firing squad.
    “I’ve been trying to talk to her.”
    “No. You’ve been half-assing it, like you do everything. Don’t screw this one up, Pak.”
    I gritted my teeth. It was already wrecked. Even I could see that. Anyway, if Birdie wanted the right to tell me what to do, she shouldn’t have left me. But Kali was in real trouble, and I couldn’t go toe-to-toe against a drug ring on my own. “Fine. After we’ve saved Kali, I’ll talk to Annabelle and use whatever stupid checklist you think appropriate.”
    Birdie lit up. “Let’s do this.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
How to Recover

    Exhibit I: I’m still broke.

    “There’s still one piece missing,” Birdie said.
    We were sitting around the table at Cheesey’s. I didn’t know why scheming and terrible food went hand in hand, but they did.
    “I think it grew legs and walked away,” I said.
    “Not from the pizza. The plan. There’s a piece of the plan missing.” Birdie tapped a finger on the table. “How are we going to get the money?”
    “Please. We’re rich beyond anyone else’s wildest dreams. I mean, I used to be. We have to be able to get some money,” I said.
    Birdie shifted in her seat. “I only have access to my account, and Mom never puts more than a couple thousand in there at a time. You’re talking about ten times that amount, Pak.”
    “Well, I don’t have it.” I turned to Madison.
    “Sorry, no.” She shrank into the backrest. “I don’t even have as much as Birdie. My parents think deprivation builds character.”
    “This is ridiculous.” I buried my head in the arms. “How could this be our holdup?”
    “Maybe we could get a loan?” Madison asked.
    “Maybe Sam could get a loan,” I said. “He could put a mortgage on the business or something.”
    “We are not asking Sam for money,” Birdie said. “You kicked him out, remember?”
    “I can still hear you,” Sam said from behind the counter.
    “Stop ruining the pretending.” I pushed back from the table. “I know how to get money.”
    “We’re not robbing a bank,” Birdie said.
    “Not what I meant. I need to borrow your phone.”
    Birdie frowned but handed it over.
    I walked outside. Took a deep breath. Dialed.
    The phone rang once before Mom answered. “Hello?”
    “Mom? I need your help.”
    “Pak?” I tried to pretend the breathless excitement in her voice didn’t exist. “Hold on a second.” Muffled shouting played into my ear. The sound returned to normal. “I’ve got your father. You’re on speaker.”
    Great. Just what I needed. “What, did you put a bet on this? How long it would take me to come crawling back?”
    “No, Pak, we just want to talk to you.”
    “No, you want to shuffle me off somewhere else where you can conveniently use me for photo ops.” I knew this would happen. First rule of living in glass houses: Never trust anyone. They’re all just waiting to watch you fall.
    “That’s not what we were trying to do.”
    “Stop acting like a child,” my dad growled over the line.
    “I’m seventeen! What do you want from me?” My explosion was met with silence.
    Until, “Pak,” my mother whispered, “we’re just trying to help you.”
    Except I couldn’t bring myself to believe her. I hung up. There were plenty of places to get money.
    Right. Like jobs. And banks.

    I walked until I found a park bench I could collapse on. This couldn’t be how my rescue mission ended. I hated how desperately important money kept turning out to be.
    I didn’t know how long I sat there before she sat down beside me without a word. I tilted my head to take her in. Her brown hair was wild, her hands occupied with tearing apart another Styrofoam cup, as though she were trying to recreate the day we broke up.
    “Hey,” I said, because it was all there