by Rachel Jonas
“Scar, give me my phone,” I snap, mostly because tonight’s gone to shit and I’m so, so over it.
Redness spreads across her nose and cheeks. “I just… I didn’t want you to see. Mike’s already ruined things and… I didn’t want you to see,” she repeats.
My brow tightens and I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Didn’t want me to see what?” I ask, suddenly even more eager to know.
As soon as she hands it over, the screen brightens with one of many notifications I’ve missed. Mostly from Pandora’s incessant posting.
Bitch doesn’t even take holidays off, apparently.
My ringer’s been on silent all day today. Like I said, it’d been peaceful, and I didn’t want anything to ruin it.
Now, as I stare at Pandora’s dreaded, black and pink icon, I’m starting to think shutting myself off from the rest of the world may have been more than a hunch.
Something’s happened. I feel it in my gut. See it on my sister’s face.
She tried to take my phone to shield me from something, like I do for her, but all it takes was one click to discover what that ‘something’ is.
My breathing’s erratic and I’m shaking all over, staring at an image of West that has my blood boiling inside my veins. He told me he didn’t care about Parker, claimed she means nothing to him, but that’s not what these images say.
In one, he’s going into her house. In another, he’s coming back out. And based on Pandora’s recap, they were in there alone for a while.
I haven’t known West all that long, but I know him well enough that this shouldn’t surprise me. This is exactly who he is, who he’s shown me he’s been all along.
A liar.
A con artist.
It’s me who keeps wanting to think otherwise.
“Are you okay?” Scar sounds sheepish, like she’s expecting me to implode.
“I’m fine,” I lie, accidentally speaking coldly to her again, but… damn. I don’t even know what to say.
Why do I let him do this to me? Break me in ways I never even realize he has the power to do? Like now, I’m brimming over with rage and hatred, yes, but there’s something else rearing its ugly head from the shadows.
Fucking jealousy.
At the mere thought of him going to her.
I feel like he’s gotten me all over again, humiliated me like I should’ve expected he would.
Entering her name into my phone twice—because my hands are vibrating with anger—I dial Lexi. Before she even picks up, I’m already headed to my room where I rip the ponytail holder from my hair.
“Sup, woman!” she answers, too chipper to have seen the update I just saw. If she had, she’d know I’m pissed and wounded.
“I need your help.”
“What’s up? We going on a crime spree?” she teases, falling silent when I don’t respond. “Shit! I was kidding, but are we?”
I don’t give a direct answer as I slip out of my sweats and tee, into something a bit less conspicuous. Something darker.
“Meet me at the train tracks near the school. Wear black. And if you own a baseball bat… bring it.”
“Be there in ten,” she says excitedly, not asking a single follow-up question before ending the call.
I shouldn’t even care that West was with Parker tonight, but I’m raw, aching in ways I haven’t before, broken in ways I don’t know how to fix. Guess he just picked the wrong day to hurt my fucking feelings.
Now, he’s gonna pay.
Like he should’ve months ago.
Chapter 20
WEST
Broken glass crunches beneath the soles of my sneakers. I circle what’s left of my car and vow to crush whatever asshole snuck into the parking structure and did this shit.
Headlights, taillights: busted.
Tires: punctured.
Hood, trunk: bashed to fucking hell.
Windshield, side and back windows: completely smashed, scattering glass all throughout the interior.
Hell, it’d be quicker to list what isn’t fucked up.
“I have the footage, sir,” Nelson says, rushing to my dad’s side with a tablet in hand. He hits play and the four of us—me, Vin, Dane, and Sterling—all lean in to watch.
First, there’s nothing to see but my once pristine car and flawless paintjob. Then, two bodies rush into the frame. Both dressed in black hoodies, one in black yoga pants to match, the other in sweats. The one with the tight fabric hugging a remarkably familiar ass, wields a pink softball bat, making the first dent in my hood.
I’m breathing heavy now, coming into the realization of whose handiwork this is. Glancing toward Dane and Sterling, they’re already eyeing me. There’s no need to question whether they’ve reached the same conclusion.
This was fucking Southside. She didn’t work alone, either. Seeing the wild, dark hair of the other guilty party, I’m guessing she called Rodriguez in for reinforcement.
Both keep their hoods up and they’re also careful not to look toward the camera, but I’ve watched Southside so long, her every move, I don’t even need to see her face.
What the fuck’s gotten into her crazy ass?
“I pay you well. Do I not, Nelson?” Vin asks a little too calmly.
“Yes, sir,” Nelson stammers.
Vin nods. “And you’re one job is to secure this fucking parking structure so shit like this doesn’t happen. Is that right?”
Nelson’s face is red as hell now, but he nods like he’s not about to piss himself. “Yes, sir.”
“Yet… your worthless ass let a couple bitches slip in under your nose and beat the shit out of my son’s car,” Vin seethes. “Nice work. Very nice work.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I—”
“Where the fuck are the cops?”
Nelson just about jumps out of his shoes when Vin snaps at him.
“You told me to always call you first when things happen out here, so I… I haven’t reached out to them yet. Should I do that now, sir?”
Vin’s jaw ticks with rage and he slices a furious look toward Nelson. A look that answers that last question.
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
As soon as Nelson turns to grab the phone from his booth, I speak up.
“No, not the cops. Just a tow truck.”
Vin’s wrath is on me now, and I practically feel the heat of hell rolling off the man.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘not the cops’? Have you lost what was left of your mind?”
I meet his gaze, aware of this being the most we’ve spoken in weeks.
“The car’s in my name and I said no cops.”
We stare one another down and I know he saw the same thing I did. A tall blonde we both know has a long list of reasons why she could’ve vandalized my car tonight. Even if I don’t know what I’ve done recently that pissed her off, but that’s a whole other conversation. A conversation I intend to have about thirty minutes from now.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Vin scoffs, huffing with an incredulous laugh as he takes a step back. “Have you seriously gotten this weak? That you’d let some bitch smash up your whole damn car and get away with it?”
Nelson looks more nervous now than when it’d been him on the hotseat.
Vin, on the other hand, looks disgusted. Like the only reaction any son of his should have is to fly off the handle in a rage. Sort of how he’d handle it. Only, I’m not him. At least, I hope I’m not.
“I can’t even stand to look at you right now,” he says scornfully. “I didn’t raise any of my boys to be doormats. You’re kings in this damn city. That’s the legacy I handed all three of you on a fucking platter. Maybe, one day, you’ll start acting like one again, West.”
He casts a disappointed glare my way that has both my hands knotting into fists. I want to swing on him. More than usual. It isn’t until my brothers step up, flanking me at either side, that I’m reminded they’re in this with me.
We stare in the general direction of where Vin’s just disappeared on an elevator, dialing someone on his phone seconds before the doors close between us.
“So… to be clear, just the tow truck, right?” Nelson asks, sounding confused as hell by the show of dominance he just witnessed between my father and me.
“Yeah,” I answer with a sigh. “Have them drop it at the nearest body shop for now.”
He’s about to walk away when I call out to him again.
“Nelson?”
He faces me, looking like he wishes he’d called in sick today. “Sir?”
“This isn’t on you,” is all I say, but it seems to make a world of difference.
He offers a dim smile. “Thank you, sir.”
With that, he returns to his booth and gets back on his job.
Dane shakes his head, staring at the car beside me and Sterling. “Guess we don’t have to wonder what happens when you piss off a south side girl,” he jokes.
“No shit,” Sterling adds. “I wasn’t gonna mention it, but watching her and Rodriguez swing those bats was actually kind of hot.”
I glare at him from the corner of my eye. Hot isn’t exactly the word I have in mind.
“At least you have your answer,” Dane cuts in.
When I shift a questioning gaze toward him, he shrugs.
“You wanted to know if she still cares, if anything you’ve done has mattered,” he explains.
I look at the mess she made of my baby again and try to understand how this is proof of that.
“A hundred bucks says this is Southside’s response to Pandora sharing that half-assed post about you and Parker. If she didn’t care, I guarantee she wouldn’t have flipped out and gone all Girl, Interrupted on your ass.”
His response has me patting both pockets for my phone. When I find it, I’m on the hunt for whatever this post is he’s talking about. I only scroll for a few seconds before the picture pops up.
“The fuck?”
Staring at the image, anger rises in me like the tide. If this hadn’t already been a shit night, it definitely is now. I go from wanting to kill Vin, to wanting to kill whoever the fuck Pandora really is.
I rush toward the Chevelle and unlock it
“You taking off?” Sterling asks.
“Just do me a favor and stick around until they take the car,” I call out, dropping down behind the wheel of the work-of-art I’m grateful Southside didn’t realize is also mine. If she had, there’s not a doubt in my mind I’d be footing the bill to get both cars fixed.
It’s still hard to believe she had the balls to come here—the building where I live—to ruin my shit. But maybe what Dane said is true, and this wasn’t just a random-ass act of destruction. If that’s the case, and this was Southside’s response to thinking something went on between me and Parker tonight, then this counts as a win.
I mean, it’s a fucking loss for my car, but in me and Southside’s twisted slice of existence, it serves as proof she’s not dead inside when it comes to me. Not like she tries to pretend when I walk her from class to class in silence. Not when she bailed on me after semifinals.
So, as I barrel through the streets of downtown Cypress Pointe, headed to the other side of the city, I have one goal in mind. Southside and I are about to own our shit. Whatever that means. All of it.
And no matter what happens, I’m not leaving until it’s done.
Chapter 21
WEST
Someone honks at a jaywalker as I move toward the front door, stepping through the dead leaves that’ve gathered in Southside’s yard. I’m not only anxious to get inside and figure out what the hell was going through her head when she swung that bat. I’m also kind of desperate to know if Dane’s theory checks out.
Desperate to know if Southside’s done with me, done with us.
From the outside looking in, a normal person would argue that there is no us, but that someone would be dead-ass-wrong. Because what they’re missing is that there’s always been an us.
Since I wanted to kill my own brother for grinding all over her at the dance.
Since I realized I can’t stand to be touched by any other girl.
Since we fucked and she damn-near made my heart explode inside my chest.
I don’t know how or when it’ll get through to her, but Southside’s gonna realize she’s fucking stuck with me.
The barred security door rattles when I bang my fist against it. It isn’t until now that I even consider her dad might get pissed that I’m stopping by at nearly midnight. Then, I remember what my first impression was of the guy, and that he isn’t worth shit, and suddenly I don’t care if I disturb him.
No one answers, so I bang a second time.
Another gust of wind sweeps through and I shove both hands in my pockets to warm them. But when I glance up, I’m met by the confused gaze of the wrong Riley sister. Or maybe she’s the right one. The one who didn’t come at my car with a bat tonight.
“I need to talk to Blue,” I say through the door.
Scarlett’s response is to stand there, holding the curtain back while she stares, seemingly torn. Seeing as how she once kind of idolized me, having her snub me means she’s seen Pandora’s stupid post. Of course, she’s very much on her sister’s side, which also means she’s suddenly feeling very anti-West tonight.
That’s beautiful.
Fucking great.
I think quickly, before she walks away and leaves my ass standing out here in the cold. Because she’d totally do that. I see it in her eyes. The sisterly bond these two have going on is deadly.
“Listen, that post wasn’t what it looked like,” I rush to say. “I just want to come in and explain that to your sister. Please. She blocked my number so this is the only way I can reach her.”
Well, shit! Did I just tell the truth without being backed into a corner?
I’m not even sure I meant to until it spewed from my mouth, but from the way Scarlett’s expression is softening, I wonder if that didn’t just work.
She looks me up and down like the trash I imagine she thinks I am for hurting her sister, then I could kiss the kid’s feet when I hear that lock disengage. Only, when I reach for the security door, turns out that’s locked, too.
“Tell me why I should let you in,” she greets me through the wrought iron bars, pushing a faded pink ponytail behind her shoulder. Then, she tosses me the same chilled look her sister loves to hit me with.
I breathe into my hands because I left without a coat and it’s fucking freezing. So, I’m trying to ignore the cold while figuring out how to reason with a fourteen year-old girl.
“Because I’m a fu—”
Dude, you just acknowledged she’s only fourteen. Watch your damn mouth.
I take a breath and start again. “Because I’m a screw-up. I know it. Your sister knows it. It’s the whole reason we’re so dysfunctional. But I didn’t do what she thinks I did, Scarlett. I swear.”
She looks me up and down, crossing both arms over her unicorn t-shirt as she leans against the doorframe.
“And what else?” she asks, sounding only about half as bratty as Southside when she challenges me.
“And… I want to make things right,” I add. “I don’t like her being pissed at me for things I didn’t do.”
“What about the things you did do?”
What the hell! Is Southside selling a ‘Give Him Hell’ training course I don’t know about?
“I’m trying to fix that stuff, too,” I answer. “But I can’t do that from out here.”
She still isn’t budging and I’m starting to wonder if I would’ve had better luck with Blue answering. But then, right when I start doubting, Scarlett flips the lock on the security door and lets me step inside.
“You’ll have to wait a bit. She’s in the shower, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”
“No!” I say quickly. “I mean, it’s okay to say someone’s here, but don’t say who. Please.”
All I need is for Southside’s scrappy ass to hear my name and she’d climb out the bathroom window before I even get a word in.
Scarlett eyes me a few seconds, and then disappears around the corner. Not long after, I hear her pound on a door before yelling to let Southside know she has company.
The place is quiet, wreaking of pine-scented cleaner I can only guess is coming from the dark spot in the carpet. Where it looks like someone’s scrubbed the hell out of it. I’m guessing her dad’s here, but he hasn’t made himself known yet. Not that I’m complaining.
My nerves are fried, so I don’t bother trying to sit. Instead, I pace, using the time to glance around at family photos. Some nailed to the walls, others resting on top of aged furniture placed around the room.
I stop at one of a toothless Southside grinning up at the camera. She’s smiling, yeah, but she’s far from happy. Even back then, it looks like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. How that’s possible, I have no clue.
Moving down the line, I come to one of her when she’s a little older. Someone captured her braiding Scarlett’s hair, looking every bit as devoted to her then as she is now. The two share a bond that blows my mind, rivaling my own with Dane and Sterling. Here I was thinking we were close, but the Riley sisters have raised the bar to a whole new level.
I glance over at the next one, laying eyes on a woman who looks so much like Southside it confuses me at first. She’s hugging her three kids, and this is the only one I see where there’s genuine happiness. The smiles don’t look forced or temporary, although I know firsthand that they don’t last. Still, I imagine this is one of those moments Southside holds on to, an anchor moment—a memory that keeps us from getting swept away when life turns into a storm.
Some of us have more storms than others.
“You know better than to let someone into the house this late, Scarlett!” Southside shrieks from down the hall. “What are you thinking? It’s—”
Those words cut off the moment I turn, laying eyes on the one who both infuriates me and jumpstarts my fucking heart. Taking note of that deer-caught-in-headlights look now set on her face, I’m aware of the moment her fight or flight kicks in, telling her to run like hell.