As soon as Hi Kyto was gone, Jalen pulled out the phone that was already vibrating in his pocket. “Hey, dude,” Jalen said, wincing for what he knew was coming.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wyatt yelled on the other end.
“Yeah, the yacht club was a little stuffy, so after the boat, we biked, and—”
“I told you to take me with you,” Wyatt fumed. “And not only did you hop into a boat and head out to open water with a potential serial killer, you kept your phone off—for hours—so I couldn’t even track you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not ready to go off by yourself, dude.”
“It was a split-second decision. And Morgan was there. She wasn’t going to do anything with that blowhard around. By the way, that dude is a little crazy. He started asking about how long I’d been playing video games, and I nearly freaked. You think Darsie—”
“Yes. It’s covered. He gave you a fake game history.”
Jalen looked out over the city, the inky night blinking with headlights and buildings. He felt invigorated—less boy, more man. “I’m sorry, okay? Come pick me up?”
Just then, Wyatt pulled up in the truck Darsie had left them. He leaned out the driver’s window. “On this mission,” he said calmly, “you do what I say.”
“Got it,” Jalen said, reaching for the door handle, but Wyatt slowly eased the truck away.
“Seriously, dude?” Jalen threw his hands up.
“Seriously. Follow orders. You can think about that on your jog back.” Wyatt checked his watch. “Our apartment is four miles away. I’ll see you in thirty-five minutes. Don’t be late.”
“Jerk,” Jalen muttered as the blue truck sped away.