Repent (The Disciples Book 3)

by Cassandra Robbins

  “Okay.”

  I look at her. “What?”

  “I said okay.” She takes a drag and blows smoke into the air. “I tried to warn you. You want to learn the hard way… well, the hard way it will be.” And before I can say anything to defend my feelings, she slams the bathroom door.

  “Perfect.” I spin and grab my phone. I’ve checked it a hundred times already. Why hasn’t he called? He should be texting… anything. The silence has me falter for a second. It’s almost like if I don’t voice it and he doesn’t voice it, my brain will think it didn’t happen.

  But it did, and I’m not quite sure how to deal with my aching heart. It’s almost as if it’s been ripped out of me, yet I still breathe and walk. I square my shoulders and shut the front door wondering why I bother locking it. Like anyone is going to break in. A blue BMW idles at the curb looking out of place.

  Troy got a Beamer for his birthday. I got a crappy flip phone.

  Before I can reach for the door handle, he hops out, smiling so cheerfully I have to look away as I grind my teeth.

  “Good morning, Doll.” His gelled-back hair and his Drakkar Noir cologne almost make me gag.

  “Hi,” I croak. “Thanks for the ride.” I spit it out fast so I can breathe in fresh air.

  “I’ll pick you up every day if you’ll let me.” He smiles again, his white teeth so perfect I wonder if he has veneers. God, I’m a bitch. He’s being the sweetest and all I’m doing is mentally making fun of him.

  Smoke and cinnamon, that’s what I need to smell. It’s like I can’t help but compare Edge’s scent, which belongs only to him, to…

  I smile back. It’s the least I can do as I slide into his all-black interior. The car smells like him, and I wonder if rolling the window down would be too obvious. Opening one of the zippered pockets in my backpack, I pull out a pack of Big Red gum.

  “Hey, can I have one?” He leans over and I shrink back. This was another one of my shitty ideas. I should have called Morgan to pick me up. I hate her, but it’s better than having to share a space and gum with Troy.

  “Sure.” I toss it at him, causing him to frown for a second then smile again as he starts the car.

  He turns up Coldplay and peels out. I’m tempted to roll my eyes but stare out the window watching my neighborhood’s shitty houses pass by. I must be in shock—for the first time in my life I don’t care what he thinks.

  I glance over at him as he shakes his head. One of my neighbors walks past in ratty jeans, a long beard, and a tattooed body.

  “I can’t believe you’re part of a motorcycle gang.”

  “Club. It’s not a gang. And I’m not,” I snip.

  He looks over at me, and I’m almost ready to defend the club when he bursts into song. I blink at him. Are you kidding me?

  He’s not holding back. Holy shit… he’s belting it out.

  I have to bite my lip and look out the window. This is freaking pathetic. I’m so fucked. I wanted to like him, I desperately need to like him, but with the cologne, teeth, and fucking singing, I’m stunned. Oh my God, what is happening?

  “Can I turn down Coldplay for a second?” I don’t wait for him to turn it off. I’m not a big fan of Coldplay or background noise and his singing might have scarred me for life.

  “Um, dude… this is my car. But for you”—he reaches over and puts his large hand on my leg—“you can do whatever you like.” I look down at his hand and almost say, “Don’t call me dude,” but whatever. I cross my leg, causing his hand to slide off awkwardly.

  Then I clear my throat. “I’ve decided to go to Homecoming with you, and I broke up with Edge.” My voice cracks and I bite my bottom lip.

  “Fuck yes.” He pounds the top of the car. “It’s about time, Doll. Do you need money for a dress? I’m wearing white and red.”

  I’m about to scream, If you call me dude or Doll one more time I won’t be held responsible for my actions. Instead, I take a breath and look down at my nails, which I painted lavender this morning after I scrubbed all of Crystal’s blood from underneath them.

  I’m too tired to care that he insulted me by saying I’m poor. I’m more aggravated that he took my gum and calls me Doll, which reminds me of Edge, than him telling me to get a dress that matches his outfit and he’ll pay for it.

  I give him a fake smile and say, “I’m fine. Thanks for telling me your colors.” He swerves into the school parking lot.

  “No problem.”

  This time, I’m quicker than he is and I bolt from the car, taking a huge drag of fresh air.

  “I’ll walk you to your locker,” he grumbles.

  “Um well… I have to meet Morgan. I’ll see you in History.” I feel like a racehorse at the gate waiting for it to open so I can bolt.

  He cocks his head. “Do I scare you?”

  “No.” What a weird thing to say. This guy is an idiot. But if Edge can fuck around, then I guess I need to make sure he sees that I’m great without him. And unfortunately for me, Troy is the easiest way to hurt him.

  I flip my hair over my shoulder and walk toward my locker. I don’t look back because I can sense him staring at me. Turning the corner, I move around the flood of feet and chatter in the hallway. Hopefully I can get to my locker and not have to talk to anyone.

  I feel him before I see him and my heart starts racing. As I move closer, it’s all I can do not to throw myself into his arms and beg him to tell me it was all a bad dream. His dark auburn hair is perfect in an I-don’t-give-a-shit way. And oh God, he smells like clean, fresh, spicy cinnamon. My eyes are killing me and I wish I could close them, cuddle in his arms, and simply smell him. Maybe then Troy’s massive amount of cologne would not still haunt me.

  Edge leans on the end of the lockers with his arms crossed, his biceps on show. Tattoos cover his right arm and a few on his left. Without a doubt, he’s the most beautiful guy, and I won’t ever get over him.

  “We need to talk,” he growls, reaching for my arm.

  I look down at his strong, tan hand, which screams security, and wonder if I’m losing it because I almost said okay.

  “Please, don’t make a scene. I don’t want to tell my dad or Prez but I will,” I mumble as I concentrate on making my shaky hands work to open my locker.

  “I’m sorry.” It’s barely vocal with all the noises around us, but I heard it and I reach up to steady myself.

  “Why?” My raspy voice gives me away. It’s hard to swallow from choking back the tears.

  “She meant nothing.”

  I look up at him and take in his beautiful turquoise eyes. They’re filled with remorse and I close mine against the power he has over me.

  “Just why?” I stomp my foot. “You couldn’t wait? You always say I’m a follower, but look at you,” I spit with venom.

  He cocks his head. His eyes caress my face, almost as if we’re the only two people in the world, yet those eyes tell me he loves me and do nothing but lie.

  I jump when the bell rings, a loud reminder that no matter what he says, it can never erase what I saw.

  “If you thought that saying you’re sorry”—I grab my books and shove them into my backpack—“can make me forgive you or forget…” My voice cracks and I look up at the ceiling to stop the tears.

  I hold up my hands, my backpack dropping to the floor with a loud thud. “Edge, please. I have to go to class. I can’t do this.”

  He slams the locker shut. “I said I was sorry. It’s done, over. I can’t take it back. All I can say is that you are mine—my girl and I never want to hurt you.”

  “But you do. You have done something I never thought you would. You have made me my mom.” I back away as if he is going to come and get me. If he did, would I have the strength or desire to say no?

  His eyes narrow as he watches me inch away. “I’ll pick you up after school. We need to talk more,” he says, his voice firm.

  I shake my head. “No. Troy is taking me home—and he’s taking me to the Homecomi
ng on Friday.” For the first time in my life, I turn and run from him. I run like I’ve never run before. And from the one person I never would have believed I’d need to get away from.

  EDGE

  Seventeen years old

  I’m sitting in a crowded bar with a bunch of Disciples and crazy groupies listening to Axel and his band The Dicks.

  “I love you, Axel. Fuck me tonight,” Tammy screams in my ear, using my shoulder to hold her up as she reaches for Axel.

  “Christ.” I detach her spikey nails and watch as she falls straight onto the table. Bottles and glasses shatter and roll under the booth, but she laughs and keeps screaming.

  “What the fuck, Edge?” Ryder snarls at me as he picks her up and dumps her next to me.

  “She’s shit-faced. I don’t want her,” I scream over Axel’s guitar as Ryder frowns and ignores me.

  I look around at the small black room, which somehow houses a stage and a bar but is known to be the starting point for a lot of bands. A frazzled cocktail waitress comes over with a busboy to clean up the glass. I’m the only one sober, not because I’m underage and can’t legally drink but because I’ve been fucked up for days and think I’ve drunk myself sober.

  I shouldn’t have come, but it’s Axel and I love his music. My head is not right tonight though. Fucking Homecoming, and Dolly is making me someone I want to punch.

  Rhys belts out some lyrics I heard Axel and him putting down the other day. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and try not to see her. My heart hurts, but I can’t tell anyone this. I have no one to talk to. My best friend, my reason to get up and smile every day is gone.

  A prick of jealousy snakes up my spine at how happy everyone seems. Even the fucking old-timers are partying and have their arms wrapped around their old ladies.

  A girl screams and my eyes pop open. Her arms are wrapped around Axel’s neck as she screeches for the Rock God Twins. A bouncer jumps onto the stage and removes her.

  I feel like a pariah. I’ll never be him, or even Ryder. My eyes dart to the tall, bulky body across from me. Ryder is Chuckie’s friend and got patched in about six months ago. Rumors are floating around he’s going to be Chuck’s enforcer when Prez retires.

  “Axellllll.” Tammy is up again and I swear to God I’m two seconds from leaving, but the glare Ryder shoots me makes me grab the bottle of Jack the waitress dropped off.

  I guzzle the spicy whiskey relishing in the burn as it makes its way down my esophagus.

  I wonder what it would be like to have a passion, a healthy obsession rather than one that makes me think about locking myself in a dark room and not coming out. Axel could be a rock star. He has the talent, the looks, and Rhys has the looks, voice, and drive.

  I used to wonder what Axel would do if he got a shot at truly being a musician. But as I watch him, it’s apparent that he is all Disciple. He’ll never leave; it’s not an option for him. Black or white is how he views things. I envy that. Clearly, I have issues and if I don’t get out of here, I might go insane and do something I regret.

  Homecoming.

  It’s tonight. My mind wanders to that dark place where it shouldn’t, and I bolt up and look over at Ryder. “I have to go. Tell—”

  “Sit down, man.” Jason is behind me with some small dark-haired girl who, for a second, makes me think it’s Dolly.

  But Dolly is with Troy and her cunt friends and I’m here.

  “I have to go.” It’s not rational but suddenly, some kind of weird force, drive, need has taken over my brain and I have to get to her.

  “Is he okay?” Jason looks at Ryder.

  “Fuck no. Look at him.” All eyes turn to me and I want to punch all their faces.

  “Has he been drinking?” Jason says all this as if I’m dead or something.

  “What the hell?”

  I go to pass them when David grabs my arm. “I’ll take you.”

  I rip my arm away and stumble into another table. “Fuck you” and “Get your ass out of my face” fill my ears. I smile. This is more like it—this is exactly what I need. I hope someone starts something with me—I would love to beat someone up.

  “Christ. I’m just getting back and he’s still like this?” Jason slinks into my spot in the booth. Tammy’s eyes get huge as she slithers up to him along with the brunette.

  “I’ve got to go.” This time no one stops me as I stumble around the dark club and throw open the door. The night air makes my fuzzy brain start to work. Grabbing my phone, I call her.

  Of course, it goes straight to voice mail. “Fuck.” I start to pace in circles. I’m so sick of not having anything. I’m lucky I have a phone. It’s only because my dad’s last girlfriend left hers behind and I’ve been using it wondering when she’s going to turn it off. Or maybe she knows and feels bad for me and she’s leaving it on. She was one of the better ones, so of course she didn’t last. My dad’s abusive nature makes even the loneliest decide they need to move on.

  “Edge, get the fuck in.” David pulls up next to me in a new Tahoe.

  “Fuck off, I don’t need your pity,” I grumble at him as I start to walk.

  He revs the engine then lays on the horn.

  “Fucking, David,” I mumble, shaking my head. Then again, I’m being a dick to a friend who is willing to take me to her, so I get in and slam the door.

  “You can stop with the horn.”

  He snickers and peels out of the crowded parking lot.

  “You’ve got to pull your shit together better.”

  I don’t respond and stare at the passing streetlights.

  “Edge? You okay?” His voice is sincere and I sigh as I turn my head. David and I are a year apart and he’s like a brother.

  “I… I fucked up. And Dolly is with that prick Troy and I don’t care if she’s with a group. I don’t care that we’re not together.” I take a breath as I unclench my fists. “She’s mine and I need to get her back.” My voice cracks at the end. Maybe all the drugs and booze are making me hallucinate because right now, my rage is like a wild beast.

  “If that piece of shit has touched her…”

  David remains silent and keeps driving, but he starts to go faster as he weaves around other cars.

  “Let me handle this.” He lights up a cigarette and I almost laugh. I’m the little brother, always the youngest, always the pity case. No matter what I do, I’m always just Fuse’s kid.

  “No.”

  “Edge, I have experience—”

  “This is my girl. I can handle it. Don’t try to stop me.” I’m out of breath. The closer we get, the more the colors outside blur into bright rainbow lights.

  “Okay.” David looks at me and then at the road.

  DOLLY

  Seventeen years old

  “Give me the bottle,” I demand as I pour myself a 7 Up in a plastic cup and look around the gym at all my classmates.

  “You want peppermint or cinnamon schnapps?” Morgan pulls out a bottle from her large, sequined bag and looks at me. She’s standing but not well. We got ready at her house. My other crappy friends and I sat and pretended we like each other. We straightened one another’s hair. Put on fake eyelashes. We even applied each other’s makeup, all the while wondering who is going to be the biggest rat tonight.

  “Peppermint,” I snap, and she laughs. It’s come to that. She’s tall and thin in a black slip dress and I’m short and wearing a red slip dress. We both look as good as we possibly can. And we both hate each other, but I have to keep her by my side or put up with Troy and his stupid friends.

  So, I smile and take the bottle. I need her.

  “How much longer?”

  “They should be crowning you and Troy so—”

  “Hey, Doll baby.”

  I swirl around in time to avoid Troy slapping my ass.

  “Don’t call me that.” I don’t try to even sound nice. He’s never allowed to call me that. And after tonight, I need to pull back. I’ve been leading him on in hopes it would
upset Edge. But fucking Edge hasn’t even been to school since I left him at my locker.

  “What is wrong with you tonight? Did you get your period or something?” My face turns red as Morgan, Christy, and Devin start to howl. Like for real. They howl as if they’re wolves or coyotes.

  “Is that why you’re in red?” He snickers as if he’s so clever. His obnoxious cologne fills the corner I’m in.

  He throws back his head and laughs taking the bottle from me. “Is that a yes? That could be a problem tonight.” He snorts and all I visualize is my five-inch spikey heels inserted into his probably small penis.

  Again, they laugh and howl, and then my best bitch friend Morgan does it: she becomes the rat.

  “Ohhh, Troy.” She reaches for him and he reaches down to caress her ass. “If anyone needs to get laid, it’s our little doll here.” She shimmies away from him almost as if his touch repulses her, which is saying something because she fucked him last year. I back away, but she has long arms and somehow manages to sling one around my shoulder. Looking down at me with an evil glint in her eyes, she says it. “You know she’s a virgin?”

  The music is loud. Avril Lavigne’s “Fall to Pieces” thankfully covers up most of her words. Troy looks surprised. Like the weirdo he is, he grabs a hold of me. Even with the peppermint schnapps, his hot breath still smells like onions.

  “You fucking kidding me?”

  I pull back, mortified and ready to kill Morgan, but that can come later.

  “Are you?” His voice goes up two notches as his beady eyes travel up and down my body.

  “None of your business.” I spin, then wish I hadn’t as a wave a dizziness takes hold and Christy laughs that I’m wasted.

  All of a sudden, Troy is by my side escorting me. His annoying voice is whiny. How have I not noticed this before?

  Gone is thinking he’s a good guy, or even cute. He’s a fucking rat, maybe even a super rat.

  “Don’t worry, Doll. I knew Edge was a fucking homo. I’ll take care of you.”

  And there it is.

  I don’t care about me, but I don’t want this for Edge. Even if he is a cheating bastard… he’s my cheating bastard… I think.