“Em, what’s up?” Thatcher removed his arm so he could face them more fully. His face was polite and friendly, but it didn’t express the emotions one would have expected of an ex-lover. Or maybe still lover? Shit, I hadn’t even considered he might still be sleeping with this girl.
What was wrong with me? I didn’t like the feelings and instincts surfacing lately. Unsuccessfully, I tried to stuff them back into a tidy little box, but it didn’t work. I knew it didn’t as relief coursed through my body when he didn’t immediately get up and leave us. Hormones were weird.
“Girl’s night to see the show. Why are you sitting up there? And who are your friends?” An edge of suspicion finally crept into her voice, as if she wasn’t sure why Thatcher was hanging out with high schoolers. Maybe she didn’t realize we were all still in high school, but she must have suspected we were much younger.
“You know Beck’s a friend of mine. These are some of our mutual friends, and Astrid prefers to watch the show without the push of the crowd.” Thatcher tugged on a loose strand of my hair and I stiffened, unsure how the people around us would interpret his action.
He smiled like he knew exactly what I was thinking and turned back to the girls.
Completely ignoring his response, she replied, “Well, we’re sitting in our usual spot if you want to hang with us for a bit.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder and grinned. The two girls with her murmured their agreement.
“Nah, I’m with these guys tonight. See you around.” He settled back against his seat, in his original position.
I took one last look at the girls who seemed completely baffled by his reaction, before they tottled away.
“Man, you guys are chick magnets. I don’t know how your egos aren’t the size of the Mount Sinai. Your egos could literally be so big, they’d classify them as their own personality.” My gaze darted between Thatcher and Rhys. Hell, Beck was definitely included in this conversation. Jonah was too, but more in a nerdy way. All the straight A chess girls lost their shit for him.
All three guys rolled with laughter and I joined in. It was hilarious. And it also made me wonder what it was about our group that they would leave their golden lives behind and hang out with people that were so different than they were. But we were also kind of the same, weren’t we? We each were broken in some way. Maybe instead of trying to fit ourselves back together on our own, we thought we could create something even better and stronger together.
Rhys nudged my leg with his knee. “Sure, the attention was nice for about five minutes. But then it’s all fake. I never know when someone likes me for me or they’re trying to ride the coattails of my hockey or family popularity. I’m sure my distaste for thirsty bitches has kept me levelheaded.” He smirked.
“I’d have to agree. College is one eternal hook up. I don’t have the fame like Rhys, but popularity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You have the right idea hiding in the background.” Thatcher said, patting me on the head. I glared at him.
“Hmm.” I looked to Jonah, but he kept his silence. He was wearing an amused expression, though. I guessed that was better than not participating at all.
The lights dimmed and we abandoned our conversation. A hush fell over the crowd and I got out my camera, ready to capture some epic shots.
Then Beck stepped onto the stage.
Fuck. This night hadn’t started at all how I’d planned. Astrid was supposed to hang with me in the back until it was time. But Thatch had to ruin it. He basically commandeered her away from me as soon as we were backstage.
Okay, so Will and Rhett started their party early. I shot each of the bastards glares as they picked up their instruments. It wasn’t common, but it wasn’t uncommon either. Then Thatch made me feel like an ass for having Astrid witness their debauchery. And of course, he swept in like a knight in shining armor, saving her from my man whore ways. Not my ways. Just the overall stink of the band.
I would never admit it to him, but when I really looked at what was going on, I felt two inches tall. Astrid was pure and sweet, despite her clear view of the world. I didn’t want to be the one responsible for staining her. A small part that would never see the light of day was thankful he had the foresight to get her out of there before bare tits were everywhere.
The crowd was quiet, anticipating the first song of the show. Slowly, sensually, I walked to the mic. Astrid was front and center, surrounded by her heroes, as Thatcher dubbed us. I almost snorted and pulled myself out of the zone. Her camera covered her face as she did what she exceled at. Capturing moods. Creating pictures that were so full of emotion, the viewer couldn’t help but feel whatever she wanted them to feel. She was a puppet master, pulling our emotional strings as she saw fit.
It was perversely satisfying that she constantly took pictures of me. Working on cars, practicing, playing, performing. Her need to study me was a good sign, and brought out a possessiveness that was unusual for me. Tonight was supposed to be the night I took the next step and asked her on a real date. A proper date. Not that I’d ever needed them before, but I wanted that with her.
As I stared into her camera lens, the lights from the stage illuminated just enough of their bodies that their seating arrangement was clear. Rhys was practically plastered to her side; Thatcher had his arm around her as he smiled up at me without a care in the world.
My mind completely blanked. It was time to start the show, I could feel the eyes of my band mates on my back. I just couldn’t start. Seeing the guys hovering around Astrid, I had one main thought running through my head.
What the fuck?
Hadn’t I asked them point blank if any of them planned on pursuing her? And their response had been a big, fat, hard fucking no. What the hell happened?
There was really only one answer. And it was fuck that.
“Iron Horse, old friends. How are you all doing tonight?” I strummed a loose, easy tune to warm the crowd up. Wolf whistles broke through the sea of devoted fans with rounds of loud cheering. “Tonight we were going to do the usual, but I think we need a change. I’m feeling particularly amorous.” I let my lips tilt into a devious smirk. The ladies loved it. The randy mom squad, as Astrid so kindly referred to them.
“To really get in the mood, tonight’s all about love ballads. The sexy kind. The take your woman home and love her right, kind. That good with you all?” I almost winced from the high-pitched squeals tearing toward the stage.
This was supposed to be part one of my plan. Soften Astrid up with love songs, then take her home after we all hung out together. Ask her to dinner.
But now those fuckers, specifically Thatcher, were going to benefit from my mood slinging, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
The show progressed as I’d planned and the one saving grace was Astrid was so focused on me, she hardly spared a glance at Rhys or Thatch. I guessed I should make a point of making eye contact with the rest of the crowd. They might figure out I was singing to one woman if they saw me looking at the foot of the stage the entire time.
The second before I was going to do a sweep of the immediate crowd, two men pushed their way through the fence, close to where Astrid sat. Once they stood directly behind them, they each laid a forceful hand on Jonah’s shoulder. He stiffened, but he didn’t look surprised.
That motherfucker.
He shook them off and made a short comment to Rhys, before getting up and following the two men.
I knew he was trouble. It was in his blood. I’d slacked off, because he truly seemed like he had his shit together and he was just as avid about protecting Astrid as the rest of us. But after this, no way was he getting the benefit of the doubt. With his family ties, he hadn’t stood a chance of getting out of the filth that swam on his side of the tracks. I had hoped, but it was pointless.
Astrid noticed he left and said something to both Rhys and Thatcher. Hands were flying and pointing over shoulders and soon, they were getting up too.
Helpless to do anything abou
t it, I watched them all trail after Jonah. If anything happened to Astrid, damn, if anything happened to any of them because of Jonah’s poor choices, I’d rain fresh hell on him so hard, he’d never forget what it felt like.
Wow. Just wow.
Did I say hormones were bad before? I don’t know what Kool-Aid Beck drank from, but apparently, he had two pitchers. The show tonight was deliciously hot, and his voice was mouthwateringly smooth. There wasn’t a pair of dry panties in the place. And the pictures? I was practically salivating at the thought of getting home to load them to my computer. But for now, I would be happy with experiencing it firsthand.
I needed to start a fan page for Beck with all of these images. He would skyrocket in no time.
Commotion on my right caught my attention, as Jonah squeezed through the gap in the fence, disappearing into the mass of gyrating people. Gone were the shove happy, cup sloshing crowds from previous shows. Tonight’s music incited a different kind of feel and inches behind me was a dance club two steps below a sex club. My cheeks flamed just glimpsing it in the dark.
“Where did Jonah go?” I leaned over to shout in Rhys’ ear.
He bent his head toward mine. “He said someone wanted to talk to him. That he’d be right back.”
Something wasn’t right. The way Jonah had been distancing himself from us lately, it was weird. If people were hunting him down in a club, it wasn’t for anything good. I wished I’d gotten a look at who it was. That would make me feel moderately better about him leaving us. Especially if they were the chess team or debate team.
“Did you happen to see who it was?”
Thatcher leaned over to be a part of our bubble. “What’s going on?”
“Jonah left because he said he needed to talk to someone.” I pointed back in the direction I’d seen Jonah go.
“Oh.” He started to sit back but I grabbed his arm.
“Wait. Haven’t you guys noticed something off with him lately? He’s different, almost anxious all the time.”
Rhys started to speak but then shut his mouth. After a few seconds, he voiced his thoughts. “Now that you say that, he has been absent. More in the last couple weeks than in the beginning. It could be school pulling him in so many different directions with all of his school responsibilities. He takes that stuff very seriously.”
Thatcher tilted his head. “I wouldn’t really know. He’s the one I have the least amount of contact with.”
“I think we should go check on him. Make sure he’s okay.” I opened my camera bag to insert the camera and pack it away. No way could I allow an opportunity pass by to get a deeper insight into who Jonah was. He might believe I’d forgotten, but I still remember the conversations with Mike from class. I remember the argument they had outside of the party that one night, and the tattoo.
Mike shook his head, but all the anger he’d had in class was absent. His posture screamed weary and beat down. “You don’t get it. You don’t ever get done with them. It’s not an option.”
“No, I’m doing everything I can to get out of there. I’m set to be valedictorian and I’ve already been accepted into several universities with scholarship options. I’m done.” Jonah crossed his arms and braced his legs apart.
“You’re going to end up dead!” Mike rushed Jonah and pulled on his shirt.
“Let him have his privacy. If he needs us, he’ll let us know.” Thatcher succinctly made the decision, but that wasn’t good for me.
“Sorry. I’m going. I have a bad feeling about him leaving us. I’ll come right back once I make sure he’s really okay.” I slung the camera back over my head and stood up.
“We can’t let her go on her own.” Rhys stood and said to Thatcher like I wasn’t sandwiched in between them.
Seriously, the way they treated me like I was a naïve preteen was really starting to grate on my nerves. “Go, stay, I don’t care, but I’m following Jonah.”
Unsurprisingly, both guys followed behind me. I realized my mistake as soon as I left the empty safe zone between the fence and stage. Stage lights flashed over the entire venue, giving a strobe effect to the floor. People crowded around me, leaving zero space to squeeze through. Rhys should have gone first, everyone naturally moved out of his way due to his sheer size.
“Here,” Rhys was a mind reader, because he tucked me between him and Thatcher and made an embarrassingly easy path for us to get out of the pit.
Soon, the crowd thinned, and I was able to walk next to him and see where we were going instead of hiding behind him. The low-lit bar wasn’t even half full, so no Jonah there. The entrance was to the right, but a dark hallway that led to the bathrooms was to the left.
“Let’s go that way and see if he’s hiding out by the bathrooms.” He wasn’t in the hallway. But there was an exit door at the end of the hallway and the back of my head itched as I thought about where he could be. Unless he went backstage, there weren’t very many options. The front of the club was almost entirely open.
I edged toward the door, listening to see if there was anything outside. When my ear touched the door, it bounced against the frame as something landed hard against it. Or someone.
Now wasn’t the time for patient stealth and shy touches. There was a chance Jonah was on the other side of this door and he could be in trouble. Big trouble.
The hinges creaked as I shoved it open and fell through, coming face to face with two men that barely looked on the better side of thug life. Tatted and grease stained, they exuded a type of menace that was lethal in more ways than one.
I let my gaze dart around the grimy alley, looking for any sign of Jonah, and there he was. Slumped over next to the door as if he was seconds away from passing out.
“Jonah!” I started to take a step toward him but decided against it. These guys needed to leave. Jonah wasn’t safe as long as they were around. “Who are you?”
The taller of the two, who let’s call Green Bean Bob because of his slenderness, and probably healthy drug addiction, curled a lip at my question. “Fuck off. You and your friends should go back inside unless you want a little taste of what Jonah here is getting.”
“Not getting.” I shook my head. “You’re done.” His look of confusion, probably from my reference of present and past tense, melted into hellacious anger. He began to lunge but Rhys and Thatcher both appeared in his path, effectively placing me behind them.
“I wouldn’t do that. Listen to her and get the fuck out of here.” Rhys slammed a hand into Green Bean’s chest and violently shoved him backward. “If you stay, you’ll get a proper ass kicking and I don’t think you’d like to go back to whoever sent you, not only not finishing your orders and barely able to hold consciousness. Don’t make me free you of your teeth and shove them down your throat. Tooth injuries aren’t pretty.” His voice was chilled and patronizing.
I shivered from the disconnected calmness that surrounded Rhys. He would know about losing teeth. I’d never asked him about his, but there were a fair number of players at Silver Ranch that were missing at least one.
The other man fisted his hands and one arm raised as if he didn’t care about the warning and yearned to lose some of his own yellow stained teeth.
Thatcher crossed his arms and readjusted his stance. It looked casual, but after spending so much time with him during class and watching him paint, there was a slightly noticeable tenseness along the lines of his shoulders and spine. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You see, Rhys is the golden boy of Silver Ranch. Not only can he skin your asses like a blanched tomato, his father practically owns this town. That would be a bad enemy to make, don’t you think?”
Although I couldn’t see his face, Rhys turned toward Thatcher and I imagined he was thinking, really? Rhys hated the connection to his father, and even more when people acknowledged it as if it made him untouchable.
Thatcher shrugged as if to say, it’s working.
Both men had already started backing away, then ran to the end of the alley
where two black motorcycles roared to life. In a blink, they were gone and we were alone. That was close. If either of them tipped even a little bit more into the crazy side of the scale, they’d have tried their hand in a fight.
I ran to Jonah, who was holding his head in his hand, moaning quietly.
“Jonah, are you okay?” I smoothed sweaty hair away from his forehead, but he wouldn’t look at me.
“I need to go.” He mumbled through his fingers.
“Like hell you will.” Thatcher yelled. “What was that? Don’t tell me it was a misunderstanding or a mistake. They were giving you a message. What was it?”
“How do you know it was a message?” I glanced up at Thatcher towering over us, but stayed glued to Jonah’s side. Since coming through the door, maybe three minutes had passed, tops. And we hadn’t really witnessed anything, unless you counted Jonah landing on the door.
“Come on, Astrid.” Rhys crouched down on Jonah’s other side. “They were a motorcycle gang. Did you see their patched vests? The only reason they would pull Jonah, specifically, out of the club was if they were making a point. Delivering a message. And the only way Jonah,” he paused and sent an indecipherable look his way before continuing, “would have left with them, was if he understood what was going on. Or knew them at the very least.”
I gulped. My gut had been telling me for days Jonah was in trouble. But outright knowing it, versus lazily suspecting it, were two completely different things. “Jonah?” I waited until he raised his head and I couldn’t have stifled my gasp if Jesus had commanded it.
One eye was already swollen shut and even under the gritty yellow light illuminating the alley, the whole left side of his face was beginning to darken and swell. It would be one nasty bruise by morning. I lifted my fingers to touch the side of his face, to convince myself tonight had really happened, but he jerked his head away.
Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2) Page 8