Sam
The bar is called The Rusty Spoke, and it's exactly the kind of place I expected—dim lighting, neon beer signs on the walls, the smell of cigarettes and stale alcohol hanging in the air. There's a pool table in the back corner where a couple of guys are playing, and the bar itself runs along the left wall, lined with stools that have seen better days.
I chose this place because I heard some of the guys at the graduation party mention it. One of them said something about "the Spoke" and another guy laughed and said, "That's Jackal territory now."
Jackals. Another motorcycle club. One my dad's crew has had issues with before.
If Tina was taken, if she was at that party and someone grabbed her—this is where I'd start looking.
I sit at the bar, trying to look casual, like I belong her
