Malcolm is razor, keeping the energy up, and sweat glides down my back as I savor the rush of playing again. Sticks, a favorite Thunder Bay hangout, has been closed for renovations for over a month, but the owners are still great about letting us use the space when we need to practice without an audience.
Dane’s guitar whines as he cuts off the note and stops playing. “Alright, stop, stop, stop!” he interrupts. “I think we should break it up at the point, add a riff.” He points to Malcolm at the drums. “You back me up with something creative, before we dive back in with vocals.”
“Keep it high-energy,” I say.
But he just sneers at me, like duh. “Yeah, I know what you like.”
“Alright, count it off,” Lotus calls out, but I hold up my hand, pulling the guitar strap over my head.
“I need a drink.”
I step off the stage and walk to one of the tables, taking a swig out of the water bottle.
A girl stands behind the bar—one of the owner’s daughters, I think—her chin resting on her hand as she looks at me. She’s about my age. Maybe a year younger.
She looks like Annie. Blonde hair, pert nose, slender shoulders… Annie never listened to me play, though. She wasn’t unsupportive. She was just too busy to take an interest. Of course, I could say the same thing about myself and her hobbies. The only reason I attended as many girls’ volleyball games as I did was because she asked me to be there. She needed people to be proud of her, and I knew why.
The girl smiles at me, and I smile back and then quickly look away.
There was a time when she might’ve been my type. Cute, soft, sweet. But just the memory of Ryen’s nervous breath across my lips before she kissed me that first time in the truck has my body stirring. She’s a complicated, temperamental little mess, but she gets me going.
I pick up my phone and check to see if I have any messages. I’m hoping for anything. A rant. Insults. A bitchy text, telling me to fuck off.
But nothing. I know I should leave her alone and give her space. There are just so many things yet to say, so much she doesn’t know, and I need to tell her before she pushes me away for good.
Maybe she’ll meet me. Tomorrow at my house, and I can tell her everything. I don’t want to ambush her, but maybe she’ll give me a chance if I open myself up and lay everything on the line.
Clicking my Facebook app, I type in her name and go to her profile, deciding I’ll just send her a message and leave the ball in her court. I have to try. If she doesn’t go for it, then I’ll wait for as long as I need to.
But when her profile pops up, I see a video she’s tagged in, and I hesitate. Without giving myself time to think, I click on it, noticing it was only posted a few minutes ago.
Ryen is standing by a pool, surrounded by people drinking and dancing, with one of her thighs turned out as some guy kneels between her legs.
What the fuck?
I watch as he dives in, licking a long stroke up the inside of her thigh, as she breaks into laughter and everyone cheers.
The asshole has his back to the camera, tips back a shot as the crowd eggs him on, and Ryen laughs, sticking a lemon wedge in her mouth and inviting him in to suck it from her.
The music is blaring, and Ryen wraps her arms around him, their mouths touching before she breaks away and starts shaking her body to the music.
“Son of a bitch.” I squeeze the phone in my hand, scrolling the comments to see the party is at Trey’s house. She’s at his house?
And people are sharing this video of some guy licking her, too.
“What’s up?” Dane asks.
I grab my keys off the table and stuff the cell in my pocket. How the fuck is she at a party at that asshole’s house, and who the hell is she screwing off with?
“Let’s go,” I bark at the guys.
“Where?”
“I’ll explain in the truck.”
I head through the pool hall, hearing them put their instruments down and run after me. Once outside, I hop in the cab. Dane climbs in the passenger side, and Lotus and Malcolm jump in the bed behind us.
Firing up the engine, I speed away from Sticks and hop onto the highway. I lay on the gas, determined to make the thirty-mile drive in ten minutes. Is she actually drinking at his house? She has to know how stupid that is.
She wants to party? Fine. She wants some space? Okay. But going anywhere near that asshole or being entertainment for some horny little shit who wants to touch her is pushing me too far. Ryen doesn’t do fucking body shots. She’s trying to piss me off, and it’s working.
And I think of Annie and what she did to herself, because she wasn’t thinking straight, either.
By the time we make it to Trey Burrowes’ house, I’m more worked up than I’ve ever been, but I know if I go in there half-cocked, she’ll just fight back, and I’ll walk out of there without her.
We climb out of the truck, and I can feel the vibrations of the music out to the street. “Bad Girlfriend” plays, and I glance around, seeing the houses all a good distance away from each other, but some of them have to be able to hear this noise. I’m tempted to call the cops myself, if they haven’t been called already, just to break it up and send Ryen home. But no. I’ll let her choose.
As we walk into the house, a group of girls runs past us to the stairs, laughing and falling into the wall as they stumble up the steps.
“Nice,” Lotus laughs, making like he’s going to follow them.
But I grab his black ponytail and pull him back. We’re not here for that.
“Hey, man.” J.D. comes up, shaking my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. You going to set off some fireworks?”
I laugh to myself, knowing he knows I would rather swallow needles than be in this house. “I wasn’t planning on it. Have you seen Ryen?”
He shakes his head. “Not in the last fifteen minutes.” And then he narrows his eyes on me. “You going to tell me what’s going on between you two?”
“No.”
He snorts. “Okay.” And then he moves around me toward the family room. “I’ll be close. If you need me.”
I nod and look back at the party, scanning the crowd as we step down into the living room.
“Well, well, well,” Trey says, stepping through the crowd and approaching me. “What the fuck do we have here?”
He’s flanked by a couple of his friends, and I steel my spine, keeping my expression hard as I stare at him.
“You want trouble?” he says. “We can give you trouble.”
I feel my bandmates inch in closer, and Trey’s eyes flash to them as if finally realizing I’m not alone.
“Not in my parents’ house, though,” he clarifies, suddenly nervous.
Enough. “Where’s Ryen?” I demand.
He laughs. “Have you checked in one of the rooms upstairs? Little cock tease had some liquor tonight, so she might finally be giving up that pussy. I can’t wait for my turn.”
I lunge out and grab him by the collar of his T-shirt, both of our crews moving in.
But I catch sight of something to my left, and I look down, seeing a cuff wrapped around Trey’s wrist.
And on the cuff, secured by two straps, is an antique Jaeger-LeCoultre timepiece.
My heart pounds in my ears. “Where the hell did you get that watch?”
His eyebrows dig in, and I shake him, feeling a thick swell of bile rise in my throat. He didn’t get it from her. She wouldn’t have given it to him. No.
“Misha!” someone calls. But I ignore them.
All I see is Trey.
“Misha?” someone murmurs. “Who’s Misha?”
The music is still going, but I stare at him, feeling more people start to crowd around us.
I push him away, releasing him as I tighten my fists. She gave it to him?
“Leave,” Ryen orders, appearing at my side.
I jerk my eyes to her and stare down, hovering. “Don’t talk and don’t move,” I bite out, taking in her tits, plain as day in her bikini top and off-the-shoulder shirt that hangs on her like a shredded piece of fucking Kleenex. “You’re all over Facebook, shaking your ass and doing body shots. I’m not happy.”
Her eyes go wide, shock and anger flaring. “Excuse me?” she yells as a couple of girls giggle.
But I turn back around, advancing on Trey. “Where the fuck did you get that watch?”
“What’s your problem?” he snarls. “Go fuck yourself!”
I rear back and punch him across the face, knocking him to the ground. The whole place erupts as his friends and my friends go for each other and partygoers scream and jump out of the way. I dive down and dig my keys out of my pocket, unsheathing the knife on my key chain and leaning over Trey. Everyone above me goes crazy, and I grab Trey’s wrist as he winces from the pain in his face.
“Get off me!” He tries to yank his arm away from me.
But I slide the dull knife between the watch strap and his wrist and pull hard, slicing it off his arm.
“Misha!” I hear Ryen call, and I stand up as everyone stumbles around me.
“Everyone stop now!” a deep male voice bellows from behind. “Turn off the music!”
I look behind me, seeing two cops in black uniforms enter the house, one of them holding his hands around his mouth and shouting.
Shit. I guess someone did report the noise. The whole crowd scurries, running out the sliding glass doors or into the kitchen, where there’s probably a back door.
I shove the watch and key chain at Dane. “Take my truck. Get the guys and go!”