Which is great, since my English teacher hates late students like I hate riding my motorcycle in forty-degree weather while it rains.

Calm down,” comes a voice, and it’s not Razor’s. I rip my focus away from the water and there’s a man [Pigpen] with blond hair and a cut like Razor’s slowly approaching the bridge. His hands are up—a sign of submission. “Just calm down.

[-] Pigpen rounds to face the crowd. Like a lot of brothers in the club, he's ex-military. The voice of the six-two, massive former Army Ranger rumbles against the walls. "If you ain't a brother, clear out!

Now you’re holding her over a bridge. How do you see this playing out, kid?” - Pigpen

The blonde checks out the legs of the car like Pigpen checks out the legs of my English teacher--like a dog in heat.

There's this guy in my club, Pigpen. He's about the same age as Ms. Whitlock, late twenties, and he's a walking hard-on for this woman even though she would never give him the time of day. He practically runs into walls when she's around because he's too focused on checking her out.

Pigpen pushes off the wall. "Won't be far."Which means he'll be outside the door, standing guard.

The nurses are pissed Pigpen gave me a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt to change into.

A new beer with sweat running down the sides slides into view and Pigpen sidles up beside me grinning like a crazy man. “Everyone’s dying to know who you’re texting with. It’s like you’re a twelve-year-old girl chained to that damn cell. Have you started your period yet?