Nine: A pINK Novel (A pINK Series Book 1)

by K. S. Thomas

  A fair chance? There’s no way in hell I’m giving this one of those. “But...what else is there for us to talk about?”

  He shakes his head at me, but his lips quirk upwards at the corners. He finds me amusing. I suppose that’s acceptable. “How about we talk about the shop. Or all the weird-ass nicknames you all have there.”

  I shrug. “Honestly, I’m not even sure how it happened. Sketch and I got saddled with ours back in high school, but I think the girls figured we picked them up back in our interning days, like a rite of passage or something. When Mouth and Princess started with us they kept asking when they’d get their names. We thought they were joking at first. When we realized they weren’t, we decided to go with it. It’s become kind of our thing. Even if a girl winds up leaving, the name goes with her.”

  He seems to be mulling this over as he pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. “Mouth and Princess I get, and Sketch is obvious, but why do they call you Heartbreaker?”

  I smirk. “Because Ball Buster doesn’t sound as pretty.” Then I reach for the handle and get out before he gets any noble ideas about getting the door for me.

  Lucas

  After we have the fastest lunch in the history of lunches, Liv wastes no time in running back out to the truck, where she rests her hand on the door, impatiently waiting for me to open it. In spite of her obvious desire to rush back to the shop and get our date over and done with, conversation is surprisingly good. Good enough to convince me that I have a fighting chance with her.

  I don’t hold out hope for any sort of physical goodbye, and am only slightly offended when she gives me a backhanded wave as she walks away, never once looking back in my direction. It could have been worse. She could have given me the finger.

  Without any real plans for the afternoon, I head home to jump in the shower and clean up my shoulder. Shortly after I get out, I can hear all three girls down the hall, all worked up over something I’m sure I’ll regret inquiring about.

  “What the hell is going on in here?”

  All three of them stop what they’re doing to gape back at me.

  “Nothing. Why?” Hailey’s blasé expression is a stark contrast to the squeals I heard her produce not two seconds ago.

  “Cut the bullshit. I could hear you all the way down the hall.”

  Ash starts bouncing up and down without ever moving her feet from the floor. “Seven Straight is coming into town.”

  “Who?”

  An explosion of disbelieving moans erupts all around me.

  “You don’t know who Sev Straight is?” If it wasn’t clear from her tone, the way Madi just rolled her eyes into her skull is a pretty clear indication of how stupid she thinks I am right now.

  “Is this a person?” He’s a musician. I’m not as big an idiot as I sound. I just like fucking with them.

  “Not a person. A god. A rock god to be more specific.” Hailey swoons and falls dramatically to her bed.

  “He’s twenty-one and a ginger. God of anything may be a stretch.”

  All three of them gasp in horror. I don’t know when I’ve had this much fun, other than a couple of hours ago when I was busy harassing Liv. That was a pretty damn good time as well.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Madi scoffs.

  “He’s not twenty-one? Or a ginger?”

  She scowls. “Well, obviously. I’m just saying, it’s entirely possible to be both and be a god. Provided you also have his voice and mad skills. And, for the record, he’s smoking hot.”

  I grin. “Yeah. Because the red hair makes his head look like it’s on fire.”

  “You’re an asshole.” Ash shoves me, then looks even more annoyed when I don’t move from the impact.

  “Pushing and name calling? What would Mom say?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s ask her.” She skips past me toward the door and stops. “While we’re at it, we should find out what she thinks of your new tattoo.”

  I draw my lids in, squinting. How in the hell do these little rats know about that already?

  “What new tattoo?”

  “Cut the bullshit,” Hailey taunts, throwing my own words back at me. “We know you got one and we know it’s massive.”

  “It’s not massive.”

  “Heard it’ll take at least another session to finish. Maybe two.” Madi’s got her hands on her hips and a smug expression to match her tone.

  “You talk to your aunt?” It seems both unlikely and also like it’s the only possible explanation.

  “Tried to. She was busy working on your piece when I called. Mouth filled me in.”

  “Fucking Mouth.” It’s like the name suits her for so many reasons.

  “Her too, huh? And here I thought you were just after my aunt.” Madi’s grinning from ear to ear, far too amused by her own crass humor.

  “Never mind me and your aunt,” I growl. I’m regretting this for so many more reasons now than I initially thought possible. “Do me a favor and keep the squealing down. It hurts my ears, and it’s annoying as fuck.”

  “Touchy.” Hayes grins. She used to be my favorite. I don’t know what the hell happened to her. “Hey, know what would totally guarantee you a squeal free zone for the rest of the night?”

  “What?”

  “If you drove us over to Madi’s house.”

  I frown. “You have a car. Drive yourself.”

  Her lips scrunch to the left, put off by something I don’t yet know about. “My car’s at the shop. I hit some sort of a tree stump when I drove through the field behind campus today.”

  “Why were you driving through a field in your Camaro?” That’s just stupid.

  “The line out of the parking lot was ridiculous and I had to pee. The field seemed faster.” And she’s totally serious. There’s no point in arguing with her about her decision making abilities regarding the field and her low riding sports car, nor the fact that it’s summer and there can’t possibly be enough nerds as excited about summer courses as she is to clog up the parking lot, so I turn toward Madi, the only other girl with a license here since Ash has a panic attack every time she even walks up to the doors of the DMV.

  “Where’s your ride?”

  She shrugs. “In my garage, I’m assuming. It doesn’t have an engine, so I can’t imagine it’s moved from the last time I saw it.”

  Wait. What?!

  “Come again?”

  “Bonnie’s a bit of a fixer upper,” she explains, without really explaining shit.

  “Liv told Madi she had a car budget of twenty-five hundred bucks. Said she could get whatever she wanted with the money, but that she was on her own on anything beyond that,” Ash starts to fill me in. “We found this really cool Bonnie and Clyde car on Craig’s List. Well, parts of it anyway.”

  “It’s a 1931 Ford Roadster. It’s sexy as hell. Or, at least it will be when I’m done with it,” Madi boasts.

  “You’re done with it? Like, you’re fixing it up yourself?” I’m not saying girls can’t work on cars. I’m just saying this particular girl standing in front of me, can’t work on cars. Or maybe she can and I’m a stereotyping sexist asshole after all.

  “Yeah. Sketch is helping me.”

  That I totally believe.

  “And Princess.”

  That not so much. At all.

  “The point is,” Hailey returns to the conversation, “We need a ride.”

  “Why do you guys even need to get over there? Liv is still working.” If she wasn’t we wouldn’t be having this argument. I’d be in the truck already waiting for them to catch up.

  A simultaneous group eye roll ensues once more. I think they’ve practiced these. They’re really good at them.

  “Because. Seven. Straight. Is. Coming. To. Town,” Ash says in slow motion. Because I’m an idiot who can’t keep up at regular conversation speed.

  “I actually do remember fifteen minutes back, I just don’t see how it connects.”

  “Sev is t
otally into tattoos,” Hayes picks up where Ash left off, “Gets a new one every time he comes here, always from one of the girls at Pink.”

  “We need to get set up. Do recon. Plot. And figure out the best way to casually stage an accidental meeting with him.” Ash claps her hands excitedly just at the mere thought of this insanity.

  “Why don’t you just ask Liv to introduce you?” Seems simpler somehow.

  “Duh. Like we haven’t already tried that, like a gazillion times.” Madi sighs and I’m not sure if it’s due to her frustration with me or her aunt. “She refuses. As cool as my aunt is, she says she’s not into the idea of having ginger grandnieces or nephews with mini guitars strapped across their onesies just yet.”

  I can totally hear her saying that.

  “Yeah. I know. She’s funny.” Madi has her arms crossed over her chest, looking entirely bemused with me when I realize I’m grinning.

  “Alright, I’ll give you guys a ride.”

  “Really?” They don’t seem to believe their own good fortune. They’re right not to. I have an ulterior motive. I’ll take them to Liv’s house, but I’ll be staying there as well. She’s gotta come home sooner or later.

  Chapter Eight

  Heartbreaker

  I’m exhausted, mostly from pacing. I’ve been doing a lot of that since I got back from lunch. That was over eight hours ago.

  “You look beat,” Mouth observes as she tosses a filled trash bag toward the back door.

  “I feel beat.” We’re the last ones left. Everyone else took off already for the night. I would have sent Mouth home too, but it’s Wednesday night, which seems to be Marcus’s busy night.

  A loud bang, followed by people shouting proves my point.

  “That sounded painful,” Mouth winces. I don’t know how she manages to muster any sympathy for those idiots anymore. Maybe it’s because she never opens, so she never sees the mess they leave behind after these fights, or maybe it’s because she comes from a family of missionaries, all out saving the world in one way or another. Most notably, her grandfather. The stories I’ve heard about his days running a makeshift hospital in the jungles of Guatemala always bring to mind the phrase about truth being stranger than fiction. Wild stuff. Scary stuff. Strange stuff.

  “I hope they all get knocked out and this shit ends early,” I grumble. Then another loud bang. This one is so loud I swear my heart paused there for a second. I hate feeling jarred like that.

  “If they keep up this noise, someone’s gonna call the cops.” Mouth’s staring at the door, saying exactly what I’m thinking. On the one hand, I’d love nothing more than for the cops to bust Marcus’s ass and put a stop to all of this, but on the other, there’s no way he’s going down alone if they show up. He’ll take me down with him, and with my name on everything right alongside his, he won’t even have to try real hard.

  I take a deep breath and blow it out through my teeth. “I’ll be right back.” And I start for the door.

  “I’ll come too.” I can hear her fall into step behind me.

  “No way.”

  “Well, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk in there alone.”

  With my fingers already wrapped around the door handle, I don’t even bother to turn back. “You have to. Someone has to stay here to call for help if I don’t come back.” Then I walk out, slamming the door behind me, just in case I need to cancel out Mouth’s retort with a loud bang of my own.

  I’ve barely taken two steps when I nearly have a run-in with one of my brother’s, well, for lack of a better word, clients. He looks like he had the shit kicked out of him, the way he’s stumbling down the sidewalk from side to side. Not that the blood gushing from where he used to have an eyebrow isn’t also a good indication of the hell he’s been through. And he’s young. Stupid young. Marcus should know better than to let these kids get into the ring. Hell, this one looks barely of age.

  “Hey!” I call out to get his attention.

  He frowns, trying to focus on me.

  I shake my head at what I’m about to do, and then go ahead and do it anyway.

  “Come here.”

  “Huh?” I don’t think it’s a hearing issue, more a comprehension problem.

  “I’ve got someone inside who can patch you up. Come here.” I wave him toward me, hoping gestures prove to be more successful than words have been thus far.

  When I’m certain he’s following along, I turn back and bang on the door to the shop.

  It swings open a second later, with Mouth flying through it looking like she’s ready to see some heads roll.

  “What the fuck?” She backs away in disgust when she sees the dude I’m bringing her way.

  “Just...stick him in a chair...and do something with his face.” We have a first aid kit. I’m not sure a Band-Aid’s gonna cut it, but maybe she can take a handful of gauze and press it to his head long enough to slow the bleeding, channel her grandpop or something. I don’t even care. I’d just really prefer no one dies on my property tonight.

  “What, like I’m a fucking nurse now?”

  “Just do it!”

  “You’re lucky I love you,” she shouts after me. This time I’m more or less running. I don’t need any other surprises crossing my path to slow me down. I need to get this over and done with.

  As soon as I get inside, the noise is amped up by ten times what it was in the parking lot. And the smell, God, the smell is horrendous. Blood, booze and B.O. make for a disgusting combination, and even the gigantic fans Marcus has placed all over the damn place are doing nothing but moving the stench around. It’s like being stuck in a massive, stinky hurricane.

  “My, my, my. What have we got here?” Some guy leaning against one of the pillars leers at me.

  “A big fucking problem. Where is Marcus?” I demand, hoping desperately he’ll answer the first go around. The next time I open my mouth I probably won’t sound nearly as badass. I already feel like I might vomit, and it’s not even from the nauseating smell.

  “Now, now, darlin’. There’s no need to be so angry. We’re all just here to have a good time.” He stands up straight and takes a few steps in my direction.

  “That’s funny you think that. The kid I just found stumbling around my parking lot didn’t look like he was having a good time at all. Call me crazy, but a good time shouldn’t end in needing an ambulance.” I don’t know how I do it, but I manage to keep the quiver out of my voice until the very end. I try to exhale my nerves subtly, but I’m not sure it works. Especially not with Creepo coming closer.

  “Your parking lot, huh? You must be Marcus’s little sister.” He smiles. It’s malicious and makes my hair stand on end. “He said you were feisty, but he never mentioned how pretty you are.”

  “Strange, he told me all about how skeevy you are. Now, do you know where the hell he is or not?” I turn away, ready to start moving again. I seriously doubt this guy is going to be of any help.

  His pervy charm vanishes and his expression turns cold. Apparently my feistiness has lost its pretty appeal.

  “If your brother had told you anything about me, you would have known not to mouth off like that,” he snarls under his breath.

  “I doubt it. I usually do my best to ignore anything he tells me.” Fairly certain I’ve just offended one of my brother’s criminally inclined business associates, I hurry to move toward the crowd surrounding the ring at the center of the warehouse. There’s a fight happening as we speak. I figured as much from all the noise we could hear over at the shop.

  I’m marching around the thing at my highly determined pace in search of the VIP section my brother is bound to be sitting in, when a hand clasps itself around my arm with an iron grip, bringing me to an abrupt halt.

  “Your brother is this way. Let’s go see him. Together,” the same guy from before hisses in my ear. The whiskey on his foul breath churns at my insides even more than having his hand on me does.

  “Perfect.” I force a smile. Sh
ow fear and you’re dead. The only bit of advice my brother ever gave me. I was twelve at the time and he was in the middle of a meeting with one of the higher ups of the local drug ring when I came running around the corner looking for him because dinner was ready. I let his dinner get cold every night after.

  The VIP area isn’t on the main level, it’s upstairs in what was once an office space. It makes sense now that I’m standing in it. It’s got a huge window overlooking the whole downstairs, but it’s soundproof and doesn’t stink.

  “Olivia.” A brief flash of concern crosses my brother’s face when he sees me, but he recovers quickly and smiles. “Finally came out to join us?”

  “Hardly.” I try to shake the guy’s hand from my arm, but he won’t budge. It’s starting to hurt. “Can you tip this guy and send him on his way now? He was kind enough to bring me here when he heard I was looking for you.”

  No one laughs at my joke, not that I was expecting them to. Somehow being a smartass just makes me feel less vulnerable, or, at least, like maybe I seem less vulnerable, even if it does tend to piss a lot of people off.

  “You gonna do something about this, Marcus?” The guy asks, shaking me like a ragdoll for no other reason but to let me know he can.

  “I’ll handle it.” He nods, reaching for me, but the guy still doesn’t let go.

  “If you can’t, I’d be more than happy to.” Even without seeing his face I can tell he’s smiling again. His voice is dripping with the heinous intentions he has for me and the despicable amount of pleasure they would bring him. I could scream, or cry. Mostly I just want a fucking shower.

  “I appreciate the offer, Mister Rediger. But she’s my family, my responsibility.” The idea that I’m the one who has brought shame to said family stuns me into silence.

  Finally, the guy lets go and more or less throws me at my brother, who doesn’t bother to catch me as much as he passes me on toward the sofa along the wall. I land less ladylike than I would have preferred given the summer dress I’m wearing. Never again am I setting foot in Madi’s closet. Ever.