Save Yourself Read Online Free PDF

the bathroom. I had the smaller room, because Jet was the size of a tank and needed the space. I didn’t mind. I didn’t have much stuff anyway. A couple of band posters tacked to the navy-blue walls, some clothes in the wardrobe, and a stash of condoms in the nightstand. Not that I had or could even get any STDs, but some girls wouldn’t let me in them without protection anyway. There was also a photo of my parents and me from when I was younger in a silver frame, hidden away in the bottom drawer of the nightstand, under a pile of boxers and DVDs.
    I didn’t look at the photo often. Maybe a couple of times a year. Always on the anniversary of their deaths. I didn’t like to think about it. I didn’t talk about it. Not even Jet knew what had happened to them, and he didn’t push. That was part of what made him a good flatmate. He didn’t bug me about personal shit.
    I walked into my room and opened my wardrobe. Ducking inside, I tossed a couple pairs of shoes out of the bottom and found the loose panel. I pried it up, uncovering the small cubbyhole where I kept my cash, a spare key for the front door, and a disposable mobile phone—never knew when I’d need it, but I liked to be prepared.
    I took out one of the thick rolls of cash, money I’d earned at various jobs or picked up doing odd errands for shady people, and plucked out a bunch of twenties. After counting out Brent’s two grand, I had about fourteen-hundred left. Obviously, I wasn’t giving him all of my savings. I’d find the rest of the money for him somewhere else—if I had to. I knew a lady who’d pay me good money for a fun night, but that was an absolute last resort. Despite what I was, and what I did, I hated the idea of selling myself like that. I wasn’t going to reduce myself to some rich housewife’s whore unless I was damn out of other options.
    Returning to the main room, I found Brent pawing through the fridge. He came out of it holding a beer, nudged the door shut with his hip, and turned to me as he twisted the cap off.
    I slapped the money down on the counter. “There’s your money. Now get out of here. I’ve got shit to do.”
    Brent slugged back his beer and slid the money off the countertop. He grinned at me, wiping his grubby hand across his mouth. “Thanks, bud. I really owe you one.”
    As he headed for the door, I muttered, “You owe me two grand actually.” Either he didn’t hear me, or he pretended not to. I didn’t push, just glad he was leaving.
    He paused in the doorway, frowning, as if he had something else to say. Instead, he hesitated, and then shook his head. He flashed me another grin and said, “Thanks again, Brogan. You’re a life-saver.”
    I didn’t doubt it. 
    As soon as he was gone, I sighed in relief and collapsed against the back of the sofa. I ran a hand through my hair, cursing. This is going to be trouble , I thought, and not the good kind .

 
    Chapter Five
     
     
    ** Kester **
     
    “Thanks for the lift, Zack. See you later.” I hopped out and slammed the car door. He laid into the horn of his silver Peugeot as he drove away, undoubtedly waking all the neighbours—again. I grinned as I made my way across the empty road to the pavement. A gust of wind rattled dry leaves down the street, swirling strands of my hair around my face, and I shivered. It was chilly, a sign of the impending autumn. The oily sky was choked with frosty grey clouds swimming across the leering face of the half-full moon.
    My street was lined by small, comfortable low-rent houses all cosied in behind low fences and high hedges, lit by a handful of abused lampposts. The one closest to my house had the word SKANK written in black marker. I liked to believe it wasn’t aimed at me, since I wasn’t actually a skank. But in truth, I didn’t care what some random punk thought of me, though I knew perfectly well who’d written it.
    There was a boy, about sixteen, who lived down the street and leered at me from the window