Ugly Truths: A Contemporary YA Romance (Astrid Scott Series Book 2)

by Blake Blessing

  “This is weird. Please don’t talk to me about your sexual conquests and please, for the love of God, don’t name them to me. Do you want me to start spouting out my sexual history?”

  “You don’t have any.” The smugness in his voice made me seriously want to pierce his nipples with a dull pencil.

  “Fine, as I gain some. I’ll share it with you in great detail.”

  He promptly shut up at that. I could almost see what he was thinking as he twisted his lips left and right. Like Rhys, he was probably wondering whether I planned to carry on with all of them. And if his kiss had swayed me to choose him. I didn’t want to have this conversation right now. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes when I told him I couldn’t choose. Nor did I want to lose the friendships that had come to mean so much to me in such a short time.

  “So you sucked at art in elementary school.” I prompted, giving us both an out.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t until middle school that I saw a reason to pay more attention.” He shook his head. “You know, I started this story because I thought it would make you laugh. Now I’m thinking it will solidify your opinion of me. Let’s talk about something else. Do you like Scrabble?”

  “Wait. You can’t say all that and then expect me to let it drop. Now you have me on the edge of my seat, wondering what was so bad in middle school that you don’t want to share it.” I leaned closer to study his face as I waited for him to finish his story. His expression would give more away than his words.

  “Fine, I’ll tell you. But sit back, it makes me feel weird when you stare at me like that.”

  “Whatever,” I huffed.

  “There was this teacher, Ms. Andrews. She was young and it was her first year out of art school. To a twelve-year-old, she was everything I never knew a woman could be. And by that, I mean she had boobs. See, this is a bad conversation. What’s your favorite movie?”

  I laughed. “No! Finish it.”

  He sighed and slumped down in his seat. “I started paying a lot of attention, asking for help and going to her class after school for tutoring. She didn’t mind because I showed an actual interest in learning. Anyway, it wasn’t long before I found out she had a live-in boyfriend, and it broke my preteen heart. But by then, I’d already discovered the therapeutic side effect of art. My dad wasn’t a good one. Drinking too much and bringing too many people into the house. I constantly worried about Trinity when she was there and I wasn’t. Painting was an escape. It was easy to forget about my dad and my fear whenever I held a paintbrush in my hand. Now I made the conversation dreary. I’m sorry. I apparently can’t people tonight.”

  I actually loved this conversation. It was a look a Thatcher as a kid, and what shaped him into who he was today. It didn’t matter if there were uncomfortable emotions attached to his memories; in fact, those were the memories that were the most important.

  “Thank you for telling me that. Why does Trinity still live with him?”

  “I’ve begged her to come live with me. It’s not safe for her there, but she refuses. She said she knows to watch for the signs and leaves when he drinks too much or has too many people in the house. She locks her door and slips out the window.” He took a shuddering breath. “That’s when she comes to stay with me. And why I told you that I didn’t have a spare room. She stays with me two or three nights every week.”

  “I’m sorry.” Those were the most overrated words anyone can ever say. If you broke a plate, and apologized, it was still broken. Only, I couldn’t think of any other more appropriate words. “You don’t think she’s ever been…?” The retched words literally would not pass through my lips.

  He tensed, then seemed to forcibly relax. “I don’t think so. She’d tell me if she’d been hurt in any way.” He didn’t sound so sure, and that made me extremely sad. I really needed to meet this girl that meant so much to him.

  “Good.”

  We fell into our own thoughts, and I was content to flip through the pictures on my camera. That was something we had in common, Thatcher and I. Since I started taking pictures, before I even acknowledged it as an art, it was an escape. It was a way for me to forget what was going on in my own life, as I became the unassuming voyeur of other’s lives.

  We trudged up the stairs to Thatcher’s door, and I skidded to a halt, causing Thatcher to plow into my back.

  “Where are your phones?” I shrieked. The composure I’d kept all night was unraveling and a fine tremor ran through my body. I hadn’t allowed myself to really dwell on it, but I had been sure something horrible had happened to them when they hadn’t answered our calls.

  Beck stood up slowly, dusting his jeans off, and Jonah pushed away from the wall where he was leaning.

  “Let’s go inside.” Beck sounded tired and worn out. Something had happened. My heart went into overdrive and I stepped aside so Thatcher could unlock the door.

  I stared each guy down, starting at the tops of their heads, down to the tips of their toes, looking for any sign of a fight. Neither looked even the least bit ruffled, so I guessed that was good.

  Inside, Thatcher flipped on the light and grabbed four Colorado craft beers and a water out of the fridge. This time instead of piling into the living room we each took a seat around the small, round kitchen table. The chairs squeaked against the cheap linoleum floor as we got comfortable. Thatcher and I waited for Beck and Jonah to start. Apparently, they were waiting on the same.

  “What’s wrong?” We all said at the same time. We knew each other so well now, it must have been second nature for us to recognize all was not right in our world.

  “You all go first, then I’ll go.” I took a beer from Thatcher once he’d opened it.

  Jonah rapped a steady beat on the table with his fingers as he answered. “Reaper, the guy you all met at my house, he’s going to be a problem. Beck and I were going to go early, because the waiting was killing me, but we had to stop at a gas station to fill up. Beck walked inside to get some gum while I stayed in the car. Then Reaper, and two other guys from the other club, Skull and Hatchet, pulled in. I don’t know if they saw me before they turned or only once they were already in the lot, but they circled Beck’s car with their motorcycles.” He gulped and chugged half his beer.

  Beck picked up where he left off. “I ran out as soon as I heard the pipes. There was lots of yelling and threats, but for the most part, it was all bluster. They weren’t going to do anything under very public, very bright florescent lights. There was minimal shoving, and then the gas station attendant yelled out the door that they called the cops. The three stooges hauled ass and we followed their lead. But they parked off to the side and started following us as soon as we passed their hiding spot.”

  Where Jonah’s face was bloodless with fear, Beck acted like he hadn’t a care in the world, sprawling back in his seat and easily sipping on his Fat Tire.

  “Skull and Hatchet are barely initiates, so they don’t hold any sway with anyone. And Reaper is a lackey at best. But Reaper’s taking this personal. I think he feels it makes him look bad that I’m reneging doing jobs for them. And I doubt he feels any better about Beck getting in his face.”

  “Fuck the dick squeak.” Beck spat. “He’s not important.”

  “How did you lose them?” Thatcher clasped his hands on the table, around his beer.

  Jonah turned a shade paler if that was even possible. “Beck believes himself to be the next Joey Logano. We took so many turns and broke speed limits twice over. I see why he drives the Mustang now. Honestly, I don’t know how we didn’t get pulled over.”

  Beck scoffed. “Please. I’ve lived here my whole life. I know where the speed traps are. The cops are predictable.”

  I shook my head. These guys were going to be the death of me, one way or another. “What’s up with their names?”

  “Each member has a street name that has something to do with death or killing. It’s their thing.” Jonah twisted the bottle in his hands.

 
“Do you have one?” I squinted at Jonah. I couldn’t imagine my clean-cut, pocket protector friend running with some kind of nickname like Ghost or Gonorrhea. Wait, that was an STD, not a death sentence. Or maybe it is if left untreated?

  Do not snicker. This was not a laughing matter. Although, there was no way I’d be able to hide my laughter if I actually met someone called Clap. Or Clammy.

  “No. I was very straight forward that I didn’t want to be an initiate. They thought they’d wear me down after I saw how easy money could be made from making drops and pickups. That’s nothing compared to the money the members make.” Jonah sounded disgusted by the thought of accepting money from the club. Had he always, or just since he had his come to Jesus moment?

  “What’s the plan now? If they’re chasing you, you’re not going to be able to waltz into their lair.” Thatcher got up to grab another round of beers for the guys. I was still nursing my water.

  “Lair?” Jonah showed the first bit of emotion that wasn’t negative by snickering.

  “You know what I mean, smart ass.” Thatcher popped the tops and shoved a beer in Jonah’s hand.

  “I hadn’t wanted to do it this way, but I think I have a way of getting us a meeting.” Beck looked like he swallowed a vinegar-drenched lemon.

  Jonah sat up, seemingly shocked at Beck’s connection to the Devil’s Hands.

  “What? Please tell me you’re not a secret member.” Jonah sneered, disgusted with the thought.

  “No,” Beck pushed against the back of his chair as like he was just as repulsed. And after all he’d said about Jonah and the club, I was sure he was. “Nothing like that.”

  “Care to share?” Thatcher raised a brow.

  “No, not right now.” Beck looked a little green, but determined. “Now your turn.”

  Thatcher and I exchanged a glance, then I launched into a retelling of the night’s events.

  “What the hell!” Beck shoved his chair backward. “We don’t know what happened to Rhys?”

  “No, we stopped by the cottage and his house. No one was home at either place. They have to be at the station. I’ve been waiting for Rhys to call me.” I glanced at the phone as if willing it to ring.

  It rang. Rhys’ name flashing across the screen.

  I nearly dropped it as I fumbled to answer the phone.

  “Hey,” I breathed.

  “Hey.” The sound of his hopelessness screamed from that one word.

  Oh no. I closed my eyes, wishing this whole day away, for us all to have a do over.

  “Are you okay?” I opened my eyes and all three guys were leaning as close as they could to hear Rhys.

  He grunted. “Yeah, where are you?”

  “Thatcher’s.”

  “Got it. I’ll be there in fifteen.” He disconnected.

  “Rhys is on his way here. He can fill us all in.” I gingerly set my phone down and pushed it to the center of the table as if it was going to burn me.

  “I’m going to make a phone call. I’ll be back.” Beck shoved out of his chair and walked out the front door, his steps sluggish as if he was forcing himself to make the trek.

  “This has been a barrel of fun tonight.” An ugly laugh escaped Jonah.

  “It definitely hasn’t been pleasant.” Thatcher agreed.

  My head throbbed and I gingerly poked the tender skin at my temple. The medicine was wearing off, so I took another dose to ease the pain. I bypassed the table and went to the living room. We’d have to migrate here anyway; there were only four chairs. I flicked through the channels, but I hadn’t found anything by the time Beck came back. In reality, I wouldn’t have found anything interesting tonight. Too much had happened.

  The door slammed behind Beck and he stomped over to the couch, picking my feet up and draping them across his lap.

  “Dude, don’t slam the door. The walls are paper thin and we don’t need any complaints.” Thatcher perched on the loveseat.

  “Like it was on purpose. You’re only complaining to let off some steam anyway.” Beck pressed magical thumbs into the ball of my left foot. A small groan slipped out and Beck smirked at me, before turning his attention to the TV. He never stopped the massage, though.

  “Maybe,” Thatcher said.

  A few minutes later the door opened and Rhys walked in. The right side of his face was almost an exact match to the left side of Jonah’s. How long had the fight been after I passed out? Or did Trey have one hell of a left hook?

  “Hell, Rhys.” I shot up and pulled his shoulders down so I could get a better look. No, his face wasn’t quite as bad. His eye wasn’t swollen, just the area along his jaw and the redness along his cheek was starting to give way to a dusky purple.

  “It’s fine.” He murmured and scooted me back to the couch, positioning me between him and Beck.

  “Hey, glad to see you.” Thatcher dipped his head. “Astrid filled us in up to the point that she passed out.” He gritted his teeth on the last part.

  The skin around Rhys’ eyes tightened and he turned toward me, lifting a finger to my temple. I winced at his light probing, which made his face turn into a death scowl. He sifted gentle fingers through my hair, and when he was satisfied, his hand dropped away.

  “You can’t really tell there’s a bump. It’s mostly in her hairline.” Rhys announced to the group. “Trey clipped her in his fucking insane anger. I dropped with Astrid to make sure she was okay, then we heard the sirens coming fast down the street. Trey, the bastard, started to run into the house, but the cops whipped into the driveway and he had the sense to stop. Old lady Collins next door glanced out when we started to fight and called the cops. Unfortunately for us, they happened to be close by.”

  “Did they charge you?” I asked, sliding my hand into his. If he had, this could seriously mess up his chances for a scholarship, right?

  He didn’t verbally answer, only giving a sharp nod of his head. I gasped and the air around us cooled significantly. Everyone here was upset on Rhys’ behalf. So upset, the vibe in the room changed. I’d never been a part of a group that felt so strongly for each other, they felt each other’s pain. If it wasn’t so heartbreaking, it would be beautiful.

  “What does that mean for you?” Jonah was so quiet; I could barely hear him.

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to call Coach in the morning. If I had to guess, my hockey career is over, and I’ll have to fall back on dear old dad to pay for college. Exactly what I never wanted. Hockey was my ticket out, you know?” He leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. His breathing turned erratic, but it was deathly quiet. I only knew because I was inches away from him.

  “Can your dad get you out of it?” Thatcher got up to get a beer for Rhys.

  How much beer did he have in the fridge? It was like an unending supply.

  “Maybe? I’m not sure. I’ll accept his help. I have to if I want to have any shot at a good life. It’s that or have this permanently on my record since I’m over eighteen. This just gives him more leverage to hold over my head.”

  “You obviously can’t be around that twat of a cousin, so you can stay here.” Thatcher decided as he sat back down.

  “What about Trinity?” We’d already had this conversation about how he needed to have a safe place for Trinity to stay.

  “The couch is a pull out.”

  “Thanks, man, but what about Astrid? There isn’t enough room here for all of us.” Rhys glanced around the room.

  “I have a king, and the pullout is a queen. We could all have a sleepover here. It’d be a little cramped, but I don’t want to put you back in that hellhole of a home where you have a chance of running into Trey.”

  Rhys stared long and hard at Thatcher before twisting to me. “What do you think? Can we stay here?”

  Thatcher was sincere. Honesty brimmed in his eyes as he waited for us to answer.

  These guys showed more compassion and care with each other than I’d witnessed in all my life. There was no ulterior motive. The wo
rld wouldn’t applaud them for their good deed. They were genuinely caring people, and weren’t afraid to accept as well as give help to each other. That made me fall a little bit in love with each of them.

  “I think we can make it work. What about you guys? Will you stay here? And when is your meet up?” I turned to Beck and Jonah.

  “I’m already staying with Beck, so it’s up to him.” Jonah deferred to Beck.

  “If you don’t mind me grabbing my guitar out of the car we’ll stay. I’d feel better if we all stayed in a group anyway. I don’t think Reaper and his goons followed us, but I’d rather prepare for the worst just in case.”

  Thatcher nodded. “Sure, I don’t care.”

  “Good. And we meet tomorrow night at nine.” Beck addressed Jonah. “So we’ll all come here after school and wait together. We can play Twister or something to pass the time.” He smirked. I sent him a small smile to let him know I appreciated the effort.

  “I thought you said criminals didn’t rise before then?” I joked back.

  He chuckled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Well, I guess I was wrong about this particular criminal.”

  And just like that, we pulled out the sofa bed and essentially had a huge slumber party, minus the facials and chick flicks. For a few hours, we forgot about everything outside the front door.

  “Rise and shine mother fuckers!” Beck yelled cheerily as he slapped on lights and slammed cabinets as I imagined he was searching for coffee.

  “I rescind my offer to let you stay here. Go back home.” Thatcher tossed a yellow pillow that went nowhere near Beck in the tiny kitchen. It actually smacked Jonah in the head where he was sprawled uncomfortably over Thatcher’s loveseat.

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, then made a mad dash for the bathroom. The polite thing to do would be to let the boys at least pee first since I wanted to take a shower, but they couldn’t expect that kind of behavior out of me until at least an hour after I’d woken up. The only thing on my mind right now was standing under the hot spray of water.