CHAPTER 11
All this time, and I’m finally here at Grunge headquarters. I was careful to avoid it back when my father was in cahoots with Gunner, and it’s about what I expected it would be, right down to the skulls painted along the side of the building. Do those skulls represent members they’ve lost? Are they morbid decoration? Neither would shock me.
The long gray building feels somber in its own right, devoid of life and merriment—utilitarian, though the meeting room I’m sitting in now feels a little more dorm-room homey with its long wooden table, straight-backed chairs, and the remnants of last night’s party rotting in a bag in the corner. Flies buzz around the top. If we’d had a gathering at our little cottage, which none of us would actually want to do, Mack would surely have made
