by Kacey Shea
“No. It doesn’t.” His lips form a thin line, his chest puffing as he takes two steps forward. His eyes darken as his pupils dilate. “Not for me anyway. Because those ugly fuckers are gonna pay for everything they took.”
I swallow as I’m hit with the very real fear that Coy might be crazy enough to hurt me. No one has reason to come to this green room. Not until the show is over, and that’s hours away. Getting out of here alive is up to me, and I better come up with a plan soon.
“Sit,” Coy barks. “Now!”
“I’m sitting. I’m sitting.” I lower myself into the chair, not willing to spook him any further. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but he can’t pull a gun on me and expect to walk away, which only means one thing. He doesn’t. This man has nothing to lose, and that not only makes him dangerous, it makes me screwed.
Sitting on the chair, I force myself to breathe and not fidget under the stress.
For minutes he paces almost manically, cursing under his breath as he takes in the room with wild eyes. “Fuck. This is all wrong.” He scrubs a hand over his beard and looks from me to the door, and then back again. “I wanted him to be here,” he mutters, and his gaze narrows. He takes a few long strides, closing the space between us.
I consider charging forward off the chair, but I’m not certain I can get to his gun fast enough. Not from this position, and not when he’s so much bigger than me. If he would only come a little closer.
“Get comfortable.” He grabs a chair from across the table and drags it back against the wall. Positioning it to face both me and the door, he finally takes a seat. He sets my bag at his feet and leans back, his arms crossed over his chest. Unfortunately, he doesn’t set down his gun. “We’re gonna be here a few hours.”
My body tenses and my senses prickle with fear. Maybe I should stay quiet, but I can’t help myself from asking, “What happens in a few hours?
He catches my stare and there’s no doubt I’m looking directly into the eyes of a man unhinged. One who is capable of ending my life, right here and now. He plays with the clip, locking and releasing it a few times before he lifts his hand and points the gun between my eyes. “I get my revenge.”
My pulse beats so loudly I swear I hear it in my own ears. Is this it? Is this how I leave the world? I’m not ready. I don’t want to leave my family. Or my friends. Austin. My heart aches at the thought of never seeing him again, which is all sorts of fucked up given where things stand.
Move! Scream! Fight! The impulse to do all these things bang around in my brain, but rational thought and years of training keep me in my seat. This isn’t the time to freak out, or do something stupid. I need to appeal to this crazy man’s better judgment. To keep him talking. To build some semblance of rapport so he hesitates before he attempts to kill me. But right now, all I see is the barrel of his gun, pointing straight at me.
34
Austin
God, I really fucked up this time. It’s almost time to take the stage and Jayla’s not here. She never showed up in the green room to escort us as she’s done for every single show, and now I’m worried she won’t talk to me ever again. Where the hell is she?
“Come on, man.” Sean clasps me on the back. He’s been listening to me whine about Jayla’s lack of presence all evening. “The fans wait for no one, especially not a lovesick rock star.”
The sound crew hands over my in-ear equipment, and I look over to find Opal and Lexi hanging off to the side. I don’t know, this all just feels off. Is Jayla really so pissed? I mean, I take full accountability for ruining the good vibe we had going this afternoon. But Jay isn’t petty, and I can’t see her skirting her work just to avoid me. That’s something I’d do, but not her. She’s a bigger person. Professional. She takes pride in her role as director of security for this tour. No way in hell she’d bow out for the night because of some stupid shit I said. My spine prickles with actual worry and I march over to her right-hand man to find out what the hell is going on.
“Yo, Terrance, where’s Jayla?”
His frown and glance at his cell do nothing to alleviate my concern. But before I open my mouth to ask him where I can find her, he’s pulling out his radio and muttering into it. I can’t hear what he says, but his reaction turns my worry into fear.
The crowd chants from beyond the stage. The audio and lighting crews have cut the interim music and dimmed the overhead lamps, and like Pavlov’s dogs, our fans are conditioned for what comes next.
“What?” I ask, stepping away from the entrance to the stage and closer to Terrance. Trent, Lipshitz, and a few others shout for me to come back, but my body is buzzing. Something’s wrong. I just know it.
Terrance glances up and meets my gaze.
“Where is she?” I ask again.
“I don’t know,” he admits, and by the apprehension on his features, he’s not happy about it.
“You don’t know?”
“She should be back by now. She’s not picking up.” He holds up his radio and says something again. His cell is ringing and when I glance at the screen I see it’s an outbound call to Jayla. It goes straight to voicemail.
“Where was she?”
“There was an altercation in Section 328 near the restrooms, but it’s been handled. She should be here, or at the very least, picking up her phone.”
I glance around, hoping to catch sight of her, but it’s only the roadies and crew. Maybe she’s mad at me, but that doesn’t explain why she’s ignoring her team. I can’t go on stage and perform when she’s unaccounted for. Fuck this. Jogging back to the guys, I rip out my in-ears and hand them to one of the techs.
“What the hell are you doing?” Leighton’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jayla,” I say, my knee bouncing with anxiousness. “I’m gonna go find her.”
“Dude.” Trent draws out the word, and the chanting from off stage seems to grow even louder. “We’re up. Like now.”
“So, stall.” I shake my head. “Something’s not right. She should be here.”
“You two had a fight,” he says. “I’m sure she just doesn’t want to see you right now.”
“Maybe give her space?” Lexi adds.
“No. Jayla wouldn’t do that. I won’t go on until I know where she is.”
Sean removes his audio equipment with a nod. “We’ll help you look.”
“Lipshitz,” Trent yells. “Cover for us.”
“Cover?” His eyes go wide and his brow scrunches as we start walking away. “Wait. What?”
We don’t stay to explain. There’s no time.
Without asking or giving us a hard time, Terrance falls into line as we make our way back to the golf carts he drove us over in just a few minutes ago.
“Got any ideas?” Sean asks.
“None,” I say and bite the inside of my cheek. Something doesn’t sit right, and it’s not the weed I smoked earlier or the plate of wings I destroyed afterward. “I’ll check the green room. Maybe we missed her. Trent, you search the VIP area. Take the girls. Talk to everyone. Maybe someone’s seen her backstage. Sean and Leighton, do a sweep of the halls.”
“Take the cart.” Terrance throws a set of keys my way and hands the second set to Trent. He nods to Sean and Leighton. “I’ll help you cover the halls.”
“Keep your phones on. Call when you find her!” I say and shove the key into the cart. Without another glance back, I shift into drive and race back the way we just came.
This is the most rebellious thing I’ve done in years. I don’t bail on shows. Ever. But I can’t shake the feeling something is wrong.
Jayla doesn’t disappear. Ever. And that only causes my pulse to race as I gun the cart for what little juice it’s capable of.
The green room door comes into view and I stomp on the brake, pulling to a sliding stop. My phone buzzes with a few texts and I check the screen to see a group chat’s been started as I walk to the door.
Trent: No sign of her. Updates?
I move my cell to my left hand and reach for the door to yank it open. I step inside the room, intending to type out a reply as soon as I check, but instead I’m met with a scene that stops me in my tracks. Shit. The door slams shut at my back, bumping my body forward with its force.
“Jayla.” Her name flies from my lips in a prayer. Right before dread overshadows my relief in finding her. Fucking Coy is here. With a gun pointed at her head. I want to lunge forward, take him out, scream. But I can’t risk her welfare. I lower my hands and take a few tentative steps forward. Working by touch alone, I tap on my cell and hope I’m sending off a warning flare to my friends. We need time and backup, to get out of this situation safely. It’s two against one, but Jayla and I could take him if it weren’t for that gun.
I think back to the videos we made and a stroke of brilliance hits me. We need a distraction. Enough to catch Coy off guard. Without another glance in Jayla’s direction, I step closer to Coy and do what I do best: I bullshit. “Having a party without me?” I force a lightheartedness to my tone and look to the man I once considered a friend. “Not cool, dude.”
“On the contrary. We were waiting on you.” The smug lift to his lips sparks outrage in my mind. I’d like to knock that look right off his fucking face. But I can’t do that without putting Jayla’s safety at risk.
I shuffle forward a few more inches. “Aww . . . you miss me?”
“Not at all.” He laughs, and there’s an edge to the sound that scatters literal goosebumps across my skin. “But it’s only fair you’re here for this. You did foot the bill for my trip, after all. This gun too.” He’s still pointing the damn thing at Jay. I need him to move it around, preferably away from her.
“Should’ve saved your money and stayed home.” I tisk and shake my head.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Well, you’ve got to be breaking a few laws. I’m pretty sure guns aren’t allowed in this venue. You know, someone could go to jail for that.”
“Good thing we’re not going anywhere.” With that sure as shit smile and wide crazed eyes, it hits me. Coy Wright is here to kill us all. Which means if I was lucky enough to blindly shoot off a string of random texts, then I just led everyone I love straight to the slaughter.
There’s a sound at my back, a lot like the door handle being jostled, but I don’t turn to see who it is. I don’t have to. Coy’s eyes widen with excitement and his smile grows.
Oh, fuck.
35
Jayla
Trent bursts through the door. “What the f—?” His footsteps falter with his words and it takes a moment for him to fully process what’s at play. It’s not until Leighton and Sean follow that Trent steps back, his eyes wide and fearful.
Through the open door I catch Terrence’s gaze. There’s a flash of red hair beyond—Opal—and Lexi’s platinum blonde too. Oh, God. This situation is complicated enough. The last thing we need are more potential victims if Coy decides to hold shooting practice. Terrence can’t see Coy, or the gun he’s got trained on me, but I hope to God he reads lips because I mouth “run” before the door slams shut. I breathe a sigh of relief when the door doesn’t open again.
“Hey, look. The gang’s all here,” Austin practically shouts. I’m not sure what he’s trying to accomplish by rattling the gunman’s nerves, but while Coy’s attention is divided, I ready myself for a swift and powerful takedown. All I need is a big enough window, and if Austin keeps talking I’ll have one.
“This is what you wanted, right?” Austin opens his arms wide and glances at the rest of the guys in the band.
Coy’s smile turns to a scowl as he moves the gun to point at Sean. “Where’s Jess?”
“Jess?” Sean says as if he’s never heard of her. It’s a bold move for someone who’s got a Glock pointed at his face.
Coy’s eyes go wild and his words spill out in anger. “My fucking girlfriend! Where the hell are you keeping her?”
“Jess? Oh, that Jess!” Sean snaps. “And it’s ex-girlfriend to you.”
“Dude, you need better recon,” Trent says in a lazy drawl. “Jess isn’t here.”
It hits me what they’re doing. It’s brilliant, actually. Each man shuffles a few steps closer while their friends volley with words to distract him.
“Better luck next time, bro.” Austin winces and it drags Coy’s attention away long enough that I’m able to stand without him noticing. I swear, if I wasn’t so mad at Austin I would kiss him! After taking Coy down and sending him to jail, of course. I move back a few steps and attempt to stay out of Coy’s peripheral.
“You’re lying!” Coy swings the gun around and points it at Austin’s chest. “Like you always do. That’s why I’m here. To make her see. To make you pay. To make all of you pay!”
Fear bubbles in my gut at all the ways this could go wrong, but I can’t think about that. Instead, I inch closer.
“Don’t look at me.” Leighton holds his hands up in the air. “I wasn’t even here.”
“What lies, Coy?” Sean’s tone is hard and he takes a big step forward.
The gun trains on Sean again.
“You stole Jess.” He shakes his head wildly. “You got in her head. Made these two manipulate me so I didn’t even see it coming, you piece of shit.”
“You hurt her, Coy. That’s why she left. The only thing I did was show her she deserved better.”
“I can’t wait to kill you.” Coy’s voice lowers, completely void of emotion with his level tone. “I’ve been planning for months. Thinking how satisfying it’ll be to watch you bleed out in front of her.”
Sean’s nostrils flare and his hands clench, but his feet stay rooted.
“She’s mine. Mine!” Coy laughs bitterly. “Remember this is all your fault when she walks through those doors.”
“Uh, someone want to break it to cuckoo brains that his plan sucks?” Austin shakes his head and shrugs as if he were talking to a small child. “Sorry, bud, but Jess ain’t coming. She’s not here. That kinda ruins your evil payback, doesn’t it?”
“N-not here?” Coy sputters.
“She’s in Los Angeles. Where she works and goes to school.” Austin taps his chin. “Wait, you already know that.”
“But she has to be here. She’s always here.” Coy shakes his head, his words frantic. All I need is two, maybe three steps more and I can tackle him in one jump. “She’s here. You’re lying. I know she booked the flight, I watched her do it!”
Sean’s deep inhalation is the only warning I get before all hell breaks loose.
“You piece of shit!” Sean charges with a guttural roar.
“Sean! No!” Austin shouts and knocks his friend out of the gun’s aim. At least, that’s what I think happens. My focus is on Coy. He pulls the trigger, but I’m already tackling him to the ground. Ouch! We crash with a bang. Or maybe that’s the gun. My ears ring and pain rips down my side. Shouts. Groans. Blood. Everything happens simultaneously, and my brain struggles to accept the influx of stimuli.
My legs and arms squeeze with desperate strength as I wrestle Coy. The gun is still in his hand; he’s going to shoot us. He shoves at my face, he knees at my body, and his free hand claws at my face. I don’t stop fighting. Austin calls my name from somewhere behind us. I can’t decipher whether it’s a warning or a cheer. I battle for control, and just as I think I’ve gained it, there’s another sharp bang as the gun goes off once more. Fuck. I’m pretty sure he just shot me! A burst of anger courses through my veins as I slam my head into Coy’s nose and he yelps with pain. Blood floods from his face. Finally, I gain the upper hand and send the weapon skidding across the floor.
Austin leaps over us both and races to retrieve the gun. In the same second, Trent joins me on the floor and yanks Coy’s arm at an unnatural angle. Coy screams, and together we pin him down. Even still, Coy doesn’t stop thrashing like a caged wild animal.
“It’s over. Stop fighting,” Trent shou
ts as he uses one arm to hold Coy’s face against the floor.
“Fucking kill me, then! Do it!” Coy’s bravado from before is replaced with anger so shrill, my body shivers in response. This guy is way more fucked in the head than any of us imagined.
“My bag,” I grit out through a heavy breath, and point to where it lies. Pain slices so sharp I see stars from the movement and I fear I might pass out. I inhale again, but it’s a struggle. “Get my handcuffs.”
Coy continues to thrash against us. “Kill me! Put me out of my fucking misery!”
Austin rushes over with my bag and unzips the different compartments. “Jesus! How many pockets does this thing have?” His hands shake, and I’m almost certain it’s the adrenaline. My body sags but I refuse to leave Coy until we have him restrained.
“Here!” Austin hands me the cuffs and I make swift work of sliding them onto Coy’s wrists. I move to stand but almost pass out, so instead I crawl away. I need space. I don’t even want to look at that mad man. And I’m really thirsty.
“Kill me. Fucking kill me,” Coy continues to ramble on and on.
“Someone shut him up,” I complain and scoot myself to slump against the wall.
Leighton stomps over to Coy, his arm cocked back like he’s gonna throw a punch.
“With a gag. Not your fist.” I roll my eyes, and try to sit up better but that pain shoots through my body. “Argh.”
“Jayla, stop moving.” Austin rushes forward. “You’re bleeding!”
“Yeah, he shot me!” I almost laugh and press my hand to my side where it hurts the most. My shirt is soaked with blood, but then I catch sight of my nails. My perfect, beautiful, newly-manicured nails. Except they’re no longer perfect. Scrapes mar the paint of my ring finger, and my pointer nail is snapped off, broken all the way to the quick. The sight of it hits me with a jolt of anger so fierce my entire body shakes. Coy almost killed me. I almost died. And the fucker ruined my nails!
A sob breaks free, and it’s a strangled, guttural sound. I don’t want to cry. I really don’t. But after today and the emotional yo-yo my heart’s played, I’m at my breaking point. The nail is a physical representation of how bad it all is, and I’m tired of holding everything together for pretense. I am not okay. Another cry pushes through my lips and I turn into myself, glancing down to witness blood seeping through my shirt.