Sketchy is not alone.

“Door!” A deep, but muffled voice called out from within the Sketchy's apartment.

"Shit," Max muttered to herself and stepped back from the door, that wasn't Sketchy's voice. Which meant he wasn't alone in there.

“Someone’s at your door man,” the voice said again. Max leaned in trying to listen but even with her enhanced hearing she couldn't hear much over the music. A few mumbles then the sound of someone stumbling towards the door.

She took a step back and made a finale glance down the hallway towards the stairs. She could leave if she wanted to. She just needed to want it bad enough.

"Walk away Max," she whispered to herself, "Just go home," She stared intently at the door. She couldn't go home yet, she needed to at least talk to Sketchy. Get inside his apartment, then maybe. Her thoughts twisted in her head, “You can leave after you see him,” she told herself, suddenly unsure.

She knew Sketchy, had so for years. He was a good guy, a slacker maybe, unlucky, maybe a little dumb, but a good guy. Always managed to have pretty girls hanging all over him, must have been good in the sack.

Max closed her eyes, what would it hurt? She knew he found her attractive, he had come onto her pretty heavily when they had first met. A warmth filled Max's body and she sighed. He could bend her over against the wall right here, take her from behind. She shifted her stance slightly, she was wet enough for it. Give whatever friends he had over a nice show, it would make a legend. Max smiled at the thought.

The door creaked as the warped wood shifted in its frame. The metal knob squeaked as it twisted. Max opened her eyes and shook her head, why the hell had she been thinking of that.

“Who-“ Sketchy stood in the doorway and paused when he saw Max. His eyes subconsciously did a quick up and down look of her before he caught her gaze. His eyes were bloodshot and half closed and he was already leaning heavily on the door frame. His face red. “Max!” he exclaimed as a lopsided grin crossed his face. “It’s Max!” Sketchy said turning towards the guests inside his house.

Max peaked her head inside trying to see who was in there with him.

“You never..” Sketchy began but paused lost in thought. He shook his head, “come in,” he told her and took a step back.

Max entered the apartment was immediately hit with the smell of spilt booze and the hint of weed in the air. From the entrance she could see two other men in the room. Both sitting with drinks in their hands. They were sitting around a small crate. Empty beer bottles, playing cards and two ashtrays littered the make shift table. One of them sat on half broken lawn chair, the other on a beat up red sofa Sketchy had found on the side of the street a month ago. She remembered the day she helped him carry it to his apartment.

“You know Jimmy,” Sketchy said pointing over to a young athletically build man. She did know him; he worked at a competing messenger service and would hang out at Crash often.

“And that’s Trip, I told you ‘bout Trip,” Max eyes narrowed as she looked at the much larger man. Up one arm was a scattering of gang tattoos. Max knew about Trip. A wanna be gangster that Sketchy had known since he had been kids, and one of the major reasons Sketchy found himself in trouble so often.

Trip smiled, his grin marked with a gold tooth beside his right canine, “Max. Finally get to meet ‘the Max’ Sketch has told me so much ‘bout you, and it looks like he ain’t been lyin’.” his gaze lingered on her approvingly.

Max **** herself to return the smile, “Sketchy, can we talk somewhere private?” she asked wanting to get out this room before something unfortunate happened.