“Okay. Might take me a while to set it all up, but I’m on it.”
“Great.” I snagged my goodie bag.
“You hanging around?”
“Yeah.” Here was as good a place as any. I certainly had no reason to go home. I tilted my head. “The back bedroom occupied?”
“No, man. Have at it. Stay as long as you like.”
“’Kay.” I gave Kyle a chin lift. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to fist bump him while he still had his jeans around his ankles.
Turning, I left the bathroom to get Missy and found her on the stairs with the junkies. “C’mon.” I waved the baggie in front of her, and her eyes brightened. It was too easy.
In the bedroom, I laid out a line on the dresser. After I did a bump, I tapped one out for her.
“BJ first,” I said. “Then you get the blow.”
“Okay.” She took an elastic band off her wrist.
I unbuckled my belt and worked on the buttons on my jeans while she secured her long hair in a ponytail. It was all very matter of fact.
A few minutes later, her head bobbing in my lap, I closed my eyes as my heart raced from the cocaine. I wanted to get off. What guy didn’t want to get blown? But I imagined someone else while Missy went down on me. Even with coke in my system, it didn’t take long.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lace
Tossing and turning that night, I couldn’t sleep.
Thoughts of Bryan—the sweet boy he was and the handsome man he’d become—assailed me while I was lying on my right side. War laid siege to me when I flipped onto the other side. Trying to get it straight in my mind, I switched to lying on my back, but even in that position, I failed to find any clarity.
By three a.m., I’d had enough. I grabbed my sketch pad and tiptoed downstairs, careful of the second-to-last step because I knew it creaked. My uncle was home from work, I’d heard him come in earlier, and I didn’t want to wake him.
Dirty dishes were piled next to the kitchen sink. I smiled, pleased that Uncle Bruce had eaten the meal I’d left for him. It wasn’t much. I had a limited budget to work with for grocery shopping, and I wasn’t a great cook. But unlike Dizzy, I did my best to please our uncle.
After washing the dishes and utensils he’d left behind, I dried and put them away in the cabinet. Then I took a seat at the small kitchen table and began to draw.
Fluid lines on the empty page represented my thoughts of Bryan, the boy who once had listened to me and seemed to care about my dreams and valued my smiles. The jagged lines represented War. He pushed me, made me angry, but he also stirred my sensual desires. That kiss had been unforgettable. Factoring in the way he sang with the way he kissed, I suspected there was more to him than arrogance. But I couldn’t be sure.
Restless, I shifted in my chair. I was attracted to War, but he was a big unknown. On the other hand, so was Bryan. My heart longed to reconnect with him, but if I tried, would I find remnants of the boy I’d known, or more cool rejection by the man?
Catching my bottom lip between my teeth, I began to shade in the outfit with the side of my pencil. I felt like my drawings sometimes—just an outer layer. All most people cared about was that. But there was a girl inside me, one with big hopes and lofty dreams beneath the surface. But I was the only one who really knew or cared about her.
“What are you doing up?”
Startled by Uncle Bruce’s voice, I glanced up. “I . . . I couldn’t sleep.”
Messy black hair overshadowed features that were too boldly drawn to be pleasing, and eyes that were a darker gold than Dizzy’s or mine.
“It’s a school night, Lace.” His disapproval bored holes in me.
“I know.” My stomach tied itself into knots, much like my tongue did when I was around him.
“If you know, you should be in your room.” He pointed with his head.
“No place to draw there.” The words escaped before I could stop them.
He frowned. “If you want a table, you should buy one. Spend your salary on furniture rather than clothing.”
Uncle Bruce was always going on about money and responsibility. I got it. My mom had been the ultimate example of the opposite. Everything she possessed, even her own children, had been bartered to feed her out-of-control drug addiction. But lectures about responsibility delivered by my uncle without any warmth or affection left me feeling as lonely and cold as I’d been when living with her.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Can I get you something?” I asked, staring down at my drawing, the lines blurring with stupid tears I refused to shed. I never cried anymore. The last time had been the night of the Metallica concert.
If Dizzy were awake, he would chastise me. My brother didn’t understand why I let Uncle Bruce get to me, or why I was always trying to please him.
Sure, how our uncle treated us bothered Dizzy too, but my brother and I weren’t wired the same way. Dizzy buried his feelings deep and was content to live his life on the superficial level. I hadn’t yet developed that knack. The little-girl part of me kept chipping at the ice around my uncle’s heart, feeling colder and number every time he rejected me. I retreated, not because I chose to, but because I was forced to.
Uncle Bruce shook his head, scowling. “No, Lace. What I want is for you to go back to bed. This is my house. The situation what it was with your mother, I stepped up and gave you and your brother a place to stay. But only until you’re of age.”
“Thank you for that. For everything,” I murmured, like I had many times before.
“While you’re here,” he said sharply, pointing a finger at me, “you need to remember that you have your space, and I have mine. It works that way. Understand?”
“Yes.” I gathered my drawing pad and my pencils to my chest. “Sorry.” Standing, I ducked my chin and quickly padded away from him across the chilly floor.
“Lace,” he called softly.
I turned around, my heart beating fast and my expression hopeful.
“Remember, this arrangement with you living here is only temporary.”
“Just until I graduate.” My heart slowed and my expression fell. “I remember.” Swallowing the bitterness, I retreated once more.
• • •
War
I stumbled up the front steps to my place. Jazzed up on too much coke and not enough sedatives to slow my adrenaline, I cursed silently at how my legs shook and my hand trembled. It took me three attempts to insert my key in the lock.
Inside the small tile entryway, I turned to close the door and quickly twisted the three deadbolts. At the sound of light footsteps, I froze, hoping my mother would turn aside and go into the kitchen rather than approach me.
“Warren?”
Yeah, I wasn’t surprised I got the opposite of what I’d hoped for and got served a big pile of shit instead. Hope was a sorry son of a bitch. He didn’t like me.
“You smell like pot and cheap perfume.” She frowned as she looked me over. Being on the receiving end of her attention was like being doused in ice water. A total buzz kill. “Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s three fucking a.m.,” I snapped, pissed that she’d ruined my high by giving me the business.
“We have an agreement.” Her thin brows drew together beneath a tangle of messy hair that was the same mixture of dark and light brown as my own.
“You talked. I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”
“You get in trouble again,” she said, her coppery eyes glistened in irritation, “you’re going to end up right back in jail.”
“Not going back there.” I’d fucking die first.
“Where were you?” she asked, her delicate features pinched.
“You know where I was.” I pulled the bandanna from my head and stuffed it into my pocket.
I was a disappointment. I’d always be that to her. But what I didn’t do was lie to her. The piece of shit married to someone else who knocked her up with me had done plenty of that.
“Kyle’s not a good influence.”
“He isn’t an influence at all.” I used him like I used everyone to meet my goals. After all, if I didn’t look out for myself, who the fuck would?
“Was Bryan with you?” she asked.
“No, we parted ways after the party at Dizzy’s house.”
“You should hang out more with Bryan. He’s a good son. Respects his mom, loves his sisters, and he’s loyal to you.” My mother twisted her hands so tightly around the TV remote that her fingers blanched.
Her dispensing unwanted advice was both unexpected and uncomfortable. I could count on one hand the number of times she’d pretended to give a shit about me.
“I respect you,” I bit out.
“Right, sure,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Fuck it. I frowned. “Bry’s not the saint you think he is.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her it had been Bryan’s idea to hotwire my old man’s car, and him who had crashed it, but I bit back that bitter truth. I wasn’t a pathetic little boy desperate for his mommy’s approval.
“Sorry to be such a burden to you.” My lips pulled back from my teeth.
“Warren, let’s start over . . .”
I was done doing this bullshit dance with her. I’d been done a long time ago. Her keeping my old man’s identity a secret from me after I’d begged for a name had been the last straw. She worked hard, and I respected her for that. But I didn’t let her anywhere near my black and unsalvageable heart anymore.
“You do your thing, Mother, and I’ll do mine,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice. “After graduation, I’m gone.”
It would only be a year and a handful of months.
Sooner, if the band hit it big.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lace
The morning after the party, I didn’t see Bryan or War when I arrived at school. Must not have made much of an impression on either one. After a sleepless night, and a reminder from Uncle Bruce about being an unwanted burden, I was in a pretty bad mood, so it was better that I didn’t see them.
After a quick stop at my locker, I hurried down the hall with the masses. I filed into Mr. Schubert’s classroom with the other students as the first bell rang, but found my path to an empty seat in the back row blocked by Randy.
“Step aside, please.” I ground out the words.
Stepping closer, he said firmly, “Go out with me.”
“No.” Annoyed, I glared up at him. “I made myself clear on that matter yesterday.”
His lips curled into a sneer. “Things are different today.”
“Different how?”
“Today I know your standards are appallingly low.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Angry, I tightened my grip on my backpack straps.
“Warren Jinkins is what I mean. He’s a loser and an asshole. Don’t you get that?”
“He’s not a loser.” I cranked up my chin. “Unless by loser, you mean he’s not a spoiled, entitled prick like you.”
“Burn!” came from our classmates, along with some hisses.
How wonderful—insert sarcasm. Everyone is watching.
“Warren is the prick,” Randy said, still hammering at me. “Acting all into you at your house, then having Missy Rivera suck his dick afterward.”
“What?” I whispered as my stomach lurched.
“You heard me.” Randy’s gaze took on a spiteful gleam. “If you get off on being treated like shit,” he said, getting so close I had to crane my neck to keep his face in view, “I can certainly oblige you.”
Foolish, Lace, letting War kiss you and thinking that it meant anything.
“Screw you, Randy.”
My eyes stung and I blinked back tears. I wanted to run away and hide, but I also wanted to lash out. What Randy said in front of everyone was humiliating, and it hurt. More than it should have. Yet I clenched my hands into fists and held my ground.
Sudden, unexpected warmth hit my back. I turned my head, then cranked my chin up. Way up.
Chad from the party gave me a grim nod and then shifted his gaze to Randy.
“Stay out of this, Phillips,” Randy told him.
“Quit being an asshole,” Chad said, not seeming to care or was unaffected by the threat Randy represented.
Randy’s expression turned thunderous. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Lace is a nice girl.” Chad kept his voice even as he gave my shoulders a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “She’s my friend, and you’re bullying her just because she refused to go out with you. So I guess what they say about bullies is true.”
“Which is what?” Randy asked.
I wanted to smile. He’d fallen right into the word trap, not bothering to deny he was a bully.
“Only people who are unhappy with themselves are mean to others,” Chad said simply, and I nodded at his wise words. He was right.
Mr. Schubert loudly cleared his throat. “Class, take your seats. Show’s over. The bell has rung. Time to learn something.”
I shot Mr. Schubert a grateful look, and he gave me a nod.
Turning around to face Chad, I said, “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You didn’t need a rescue. But you’re welcome.” He gestured to an empty desk, closer to the middle of the room than the back. “Wanna sit here beside me today?”
“Yeah, I would. Thanks.”
I took off my backpack and slid into the seat. He started unpacking his stuff, and I did the same.
“Tempest.” Mr. Shubert drew a line beneath the title he’d written on the blackboard. “Let’s begin this discussion with what we can learn from Shakespeare that’s relevant to today. Valerie.” He pointed with his chalk to a blonde in the front row wearing a cheerleading outfit. “Power and control. Calliban’s pursuit of justice. Is it subjective manipulation or personal revenge? What do you think?”
I zoned out as she babbled a reply about costumes in the movie production of the play that had absolutely nothing to do with Mr. Schubert’s question.
My mind spun as I kept replaying everything War had said. He’d come on strong. I didn’t understand why he’d made all the fuss, only to lose interest within hours. It didn’t make any sense, but maybe it wasn’t supposed to make sense.
When the bell rang, it surprised me. In a daze, I gathered my things. A shadow fell over me.
“Can I walk you to your next class?” Chad asked.
On any other day, I might have said no. I liked him as a friend, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be alone when I was feeling emotional and vulnerable.
“Sure.” I nodded.
“Want me to carry that?” His gaze dipped to my backpack.
“No, I have it.”
I was dense, obviously, given my mistake about where I ranked with a guy like War, which wasn’t at all, but I wasn’t totally clueless. Letting Chad carry my books would give the impression that he and I were romantically involved. After what happened with Warren, I decided I wasn’t going to be serious with any guy. They weren’t trustworthy.
“All right, if you’re sure.” Giving me a funny look, Chad gestured for me to precede him.
I slid the straps of my backpack into place and marched determinedly down the aisle. From now on, I was a one-woman show. No guy was going to mess with my head.
But as soon as I exited the classroom, I saw War and stumbled to a stop. Hurt careened around inside my chest, a possessed pinball inside a machine on bonus round.
“Hey, Lacey.” War pushed away from the row of lockers where he’d been leaning, obviously waiting for me. Another white T-shirt stretched distractingly across his pecs and wide shoulders as he moved toward me. Even in a hallway crowded with students, he was given the right of way. He stopped in front of me, his wallet chain swaying as he gave me a scan. “You look nice. I missed you.”
“Not all that much, apparently,” I said. My chest was glas
s too brittle to contain careening emotion.
His brown eyes narrowing, he glanced at Chad as if he were the problem, and frowned. “What the fuck, Phillips? You making a move on my girl?”
“Got no problem with you,” Chad said.
“You’re gonna have a problem with me if you don’t move away from her.”
“Not your girl, Warren,” I said stiffly, my arms and legs locked. “Not your anything.”
“You trembling in my arms when I kissed you last night says you are.” War stared down at me, a crease forming between his brows beneath the red bandanna tied around his head.
“I had an off night. I made a mistake. One I’m not going to repeat.” It tore me up more than it should have to look at him right now and know he’d been with someone else right after kissing me.
“Not a mistake.” His expression turned dark. “The best thing that ever happened to you is what you mean.”
“Listen, Warren.” I blew out a disbelieving breath at his arrogance. “Don’t take this the wrong way, since we’re going to be in a band together and all, but I’m not the right type of girl for you.”
“Don’t really care what you think.” His chin came up. Silken layers of dark and light brown hair slid forward to shadow his eyes as he peered down the length of his nose at me. “Told you how it was going to be last night.”
“Last night is over,” I said, noting his nose had a slight bump in it. Probably had been broken before. “You don’t tell me what to do or think, Warren Jinkins.” No matter how cute he was with his strong features and his broken nose, his authoritative bullshit rankled. “You don’t own me.”
“I do when my tongue is in your mouth.” He stepped closer, his movement so abrupt, his wallet chain slapped his thigh.
“It was just a stupid kiss.” I clenched my hands into fists, noticing we had an audience, this one bigger than the last one.
Oh joy. Insert more sarcasm. Only one class completed today, but I’d already had two very public confrontations with guys.
Having had enough, I leaned forward. “I’m done with guys today thinking they can intimidate me.”
The Complete Tempest World Box Set Page 8