Noah could feel himself grinning, then laughing, but he couldn’t stop. His head jerked to the side as Gary slapped him in the face hard enough to send the world spinning. Noah frowned, then blinked, forcing himself to concentrate.
Noah’s stomach soured at the stench of sweat and beer and bad breath coming from Gary, who was an inch from his face. Gary was a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, and his meaty hand around Noah’s throat might have been able to encircle his whole neck if he wasn’t pressed against the metal siding of his Airstream. They must have looked comical to outside observers. What’s up?” Noah asked, a giggle falling from his lips. Gary whirled him around and slammed him up against the trailer, his head thudding hard enough to make him see little cartoon stars. People in cheap strip clubs often made poor decisions. It wasn’t the first time a bottle had been chucked at his head, wasn’t even the first time that month. Noah might have startled if not for Bailey’s little pink pills. Noah had almost made it to his trailer when a beer bottle crashed against its side inches from his head, beer and glass hitting his skin.
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