by Kacey Shea
“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 shouts 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.
“Jayla, baby.” Austin’s wide eyes zero in on my blood-stained shirt. He pulls his own shirt off in one swift move and presses it to my side. “Don’t move.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I mutter, and cover his hand with my own to lower the placement.
He regards me with surprise. “Did you just make a joke? Because that’s something I would do.”
I’m in so much pain and if I weren’t sobbing, I might actually laugh.
“Paramedics will be here in five minutes,” Terrence says from the door’s entrance. “Police too.”
I realize everyone’s here now, Terrance, Lexi, Opal, and of course, the band. They’re all staring, and by their concerned expressions and lack of comment, I must look in pretty bad shape. Someone must have stuffed Coy’s mouth; his muffled cries pulse throughout the room. It’s infinitely better than
his pleas for us to kill him.
“It’s just a graze,” I say, but don’t look down to verify my injury. The fact is, I have no clue how bad it is. I’ve never been shot before, but I take solace in the fact I’m still breathing, alert, and talking just fine. Hell, two minutes ago I wrestled a madman. I think if he hit anything major I’d be unconscious by now.
Austin’s brow furrows and he angles his body closer, using his free hand to cradle me to him while the other still holds his shirt to my side.
I lean into his warmth and take comfort in the strength of his body. The urge to cry again is there, but I fight it this time.
“Hiya—oh!” Casey comes to a sudden stop just inside the doorway. He glances from me to Coy, and then to the others with a gaping mouth. “What happened?”
No one answers for a beat. It’s a lot to explain.
The room fills with chatter, murmured conversations between couples, while Sean fills Terrence and Casey in on the CliffsNotes version of what just took place.
“I’m going with you,” Austin says. “When the ambulance gets here.”
“I’m fine. I promise.” Though I do a poor job of showing it. I try to sit up a little higher and bite back the pain. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“Don’t apologize. You saved Sean and me. All of us.” His eyes dart down to where our hands press his shirt to my side. His face pales a little. “Fuck, that’s a lot of blood.”
“Just needs a few stitches.”
“Jayla, there’s something I need to tell you . . . if you don’t . . .” He blanches. “If something happens . . . and you—”
“Austin.” I cup his cheek in my free hand and draw his gaze to mine. He’s sweet, even if it’s a little dramatic. The fear in his eyes is real, and I see how scared he still is. “It’s over. We’re safe. The bullet grazed my skin. I’m not dying. Promise.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He takes a hard swallow and leans forward until our foreheads gently press together. “I can’t let another minute pass without telling you exactly how I feel. And Jayla Miller, I’m fucking out of my mind in love with you.”
There’s agony in his confession, an intimate honesty that makes me wonder whether this is the first time he’s ever said those words aloud. The thought that I’m his first for something as big as this fills my chest with so much joy I wonder if it might burst. Any reservations about how I felt before evaporate. Glen’s warning from earlier today lingers in the back of my brain, but as I look into Austin’s eyes I realize there has to be some logical explanation. Maybe I’m being stupid, or ignorant, but I’m going with my gut. It’s never steered me wrong before.
Emotion catches in my throat and I feel as if I might cry. “I love you, too.”
A throat clears. “Uh, guys.” It’s Casey. “I hate to break up this moment, but we have a very excited and impatient crowd out there. One that’s been waiting for an hour. Maybe you could take the stage now? Or should we call Vince?”
“We’re a little busy here, Lipshitz,” Trent still stands guard over the gagged and cuffed Coy.
“Busy? Busy!” Casey’s eyes bug out and he clenches his hands into fists before shaking them at all of us. “First you disappear, and right before the show, with no ETA, no information, and leave me to calm thousands of screaming fans. You didn’t even give a reason!”
“Sorry, man. That was a shit thing to do,” Trent says.
“Meanwhile, I’ve been putting up with Vince and his verbal lashings! Letting y’all call the shots while my boss chews me out every damn day. Sometimes twice a day!”
“Kinky,” Austin mutters.
Casey’s face turns beet red, and he might actually pop a blood vessel if he doesn’t calm down soon.
“Bro, we didn’t know,” Leighton’s forehead furrows with concern. “That sucks and I’m sorry if we put you in the middle.”
“Middle? Middle! Having my parents argue over who got me at Christmas was being in the middle. That was nothing compared to how bad these last months have sucked for me! No one appreciates what I do, and if you did, I’d never know it! Would it kill you to throw me a compliment or invite me to dinner once in a while?” His eyes bug and he throws up his hands. “I don’t need much!”
“We appreciate you, Lipshitz,” Sean says seriously, but when Casey’s eyes go wild I catch him mutter, “Mostly.”
“And my name’s not fucking Lipshitz! It’s Schmitz!”
Sean cocks his head. “Wait, what?”
“I’m tired of your shit, and your nicknames, and everyone treating me like I’m a pain in the ass.” Wow. This guy is on a roll. I never knew he had it in him. It’s almost impressive, really.
“But you are a pain in the ass,” Trent mumbles so everyone hears.
“I’m doing my fucking job! Making sure you do yours!” Casey gestures with his hands, driving his point further and managing to appear one circuit short of crazy. “How difficult is that to understand?”
Trent clears his throat. “Your name’s really Schmitz?”
“Sorry, dude,” Sean says.
“You should’ve said something, man. It’s not healthy to repress anger like that,” Austin adds, and I swear if looks could kill he’d no longer be breathing. Austin recovers before Casey’s head explodes. “Dude, I’m sorry. We thought your name was Lipshitz. Why didn’t you say something sooner? Now I feel bad.”
Casey drops his gaze and kicks at the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I didn’t want to start trouble. It’s not in my job responsibilities.”
“We’re sorry, brother.” Sean walks over and clasps him on the back. “We only give you shit because we love you. Seriously. You’ve done an awesome job. You’ve been amazing on this tour. We couldn’t do this without you.”
“Th-thanks,” Casey stutters, and his face reddens with embarrassment.
Commotion and voices float through the open door and within seconds the room fills with a slew of emergency personnel. The EMTs quickly assess my health and I’m strapped to a board for easy transport to the nearest hospital.
“I’m coming with,” Austin announces, walking alongside the wheeled stretcher. The chants from the crowd in the stadium call out for Three Ugly Guys—fans completely unaware of the chaos.
“You’ll have to meet us there,” one of the paramedics says. “It’s policy. Sorry.”
“I’m fine.” I reach for his hand and he takes it immediately.
“Jayla, I’m not leaving you.”
“I know. I don’t want you to.” I swallow and suck in a breath. I’m talking about more than a hospital visit, and by the expression in Austin’s eyes, he knows it, too. “Come see me after. We’ll talk. I promise I’ll be in good hands.”
“Sir, we’re gonna need to take down your statement,” a police officer interrupts. “You can meet her at the hospital as soon as we’re done.”
He hesitates and I see the war within him. He has a responsibility to stay, but he doesn’t want to leave my side. He bites at the inside of his cheek as his gaze finds mine. “You’re sure you’ll be okay?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” I say. “Promise.”
There’s a flash of hurt in his stare, but I don’t have time to question it. He raises his hand in a wave and mouths “I love you” at the same moment my stretcher is wheeled out the doors and into the waiting ambulance.
143
Jayla
It’s a whole new experience being on the other end of an emergency. In my time on the force I’ve sent hundreds to the hospital by way of an ambulance. Most times never seeing them again, and some only for an interview once they were in recovery.
I shouldn’t be scared. Logically, I understand I’m being sent for treatment of a wound, and the doctors and nurses are trained professionals. Yet, there’s something uncomfortable and overwhelming in watching everyone talk about me, but not to me. There’s a moment as I’m rushed to an exam room that I regret not begging Austin to stay.
The exam room is bright,
and everyone works so efficiently—doctors bark orders, nurses ask questions—and my mind grows foggy as I struggle to keep up.
Does this hurt? Rate your pain. Do you know your blood type? We’re going to take you to radiology for an ultrasound. Only a precaution. Monitor. Internal bleeding. Get some rest. The words pile up in my mind, stacking precariously on top of each other until I can’t keep up. I fight to keep my eyes open, but my lids feel so damn heavy. My body no longer hurts, though, and as I finally give in to the urge to sleep, the peaceful darkness is a much needed refuge.
“Jayla, baby.” Austin steps into my room, rushing to my side to reach for my hand. He leans his hip against my hospital bed, his gaze running the length of my body as if he’s worried I might crumble and disappear. His hair falls forward on his brow, casting his features in shadows.
“Good show tonight?” I manage to say through my chapped lips. I’m still a little groggy and I don’t know exactly what time it is, but my guess is he came straight from the venue. The pain meds they gave me earlier send me in and out of consciousness, and while I dislike the lack of control, it’s also nice to not feel much pain.
“No show tonight. The cops shut it down, what with a crime scene to investigate.” Austin attempts to smile, but his eyes narrow with concern. “That’s what took me so long. They wouldn’t let us leave. I’m sorry. I came as soon as I could. Everyone’s outside waiting. They won’t let more than one of us in at a time.”
“That’s good, because I don’t feel much like company.” I try for a joke but he doesn’t laugh.
“The nurse said you’re going to be fine.” I think he says it more for his own reassurance as much as mine.
My hand goes to my right side and I rest it over the bandage hiding beneath my hospital gown. “I told you, just a graze. A few stitches,” I say, but we both know how lucky I am. A few inches more and I wouldn’t be alive. Coy would have killed all of us, and that’s what I will tell the detectives when they show up to take my statement.