Page 103 of Antihero

“Of what?”

“The pain. That she’s even real?”

Tell you what, Kenzie. I’ll give you until midnight.

Evan said, “No,” and hung up.

He got out of the truck. The door slammed shut behind him harder than he’d intended.

He took the pavers swiftly. Felt that storm brewing, the cutting edge of hostility razoring his insides.

He banged on the screen-door frame.

His fist didn’t loosen when he lowered it.

Tyler Joseph Russell came into shaded view. “Who are you?”

Evan said, “Friend of Kenzie’s.”

His voice was dead flat, devoid of affect, psychopathic. It was completely under control. The rest of him, less so.

Tyler’s head reared back. “You can’t come here, man.” He unclipped the hook for the screen, stepped outside, hand in Evan’s chest, pushing him back a few steps. He was a big kid, six feet, around 210 pounds.

From the shadowy glimpse Evan had caught of Kenzie, she’d looked petite. Slender neck, thin arms. Next to a kid this size, what chance would she have?

Evan looked down at the hand on his shirt. Tyler removed it.

“You her dad?”

“No.”

“Look, dude,” Tyler said, “I don’t know what creepy shit you’re up to with her. But what’s between me and her? Is none of your business.”

Evan looked at him.

“I’m not fucking around, man.” Tyler reached behind him, picked up the metal baseball bat.

Evan looked at him some more.

Tyler lunged forward, shoved Evan back another step with his free hand.

Evan let him.

Tyler drew the bat back.

Evan let him.

Tyler feinted with the bat.

Evan let him.

He felt heat shifting inside him, magma brewing, working toward eruption.

“Young man.” Evan’s voice was low, so calm it scared him. “You’re hopping around, waving that bat, sounding off. But I want to you look at me. Look at me closely. And ask yourself: Do I look scared?”

Tyler’s lips compressed and his nostrils flared, head tilting back.

Evan noted the arrangement of his features, his limbs—what tensed, what did not.