by KT Strange
“You deserve nice things,” Cash said solemnly, before tweaking my nose. “Go to work. We’ve got the instrument delivery today, and I’m gonna make my famous spaghetti for dinner.”
The domesticity was just what I needed right then, and that feeling of contentment followed me all the way in to the record label.
“Darcy!” Willa stopped by my desk, which was piled high with all the components of the media kits for Milen’s new release. My job for the day was to get them put together and out the door to street teams across the country, along with anything else Willa needed. “I’m so glad you’re back.” She made a face and sighed heavily. “And you’re going to kill me, but I promise you it’s absolutely temporary.”
I raised an eyebrow and she winced.
“Look yesterday was rough on you, and I really, really hate to dump this on you —”
“There she is,” the familiar, totally unwelcome voice of Jake Tupper rang across the production floor. I stared at Willa.
“No,” I groaned softly.
“You won’t be alone with him, but he needs an escort to his radio tour to manage things, and —” Willa winced again as Jake came up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He grinned down at me.
“You’re looking good, Llewellyn,” he said. “That stuff,” he waved at Milen’s media kits, “can wait. We’ve got two radio appearances today.”
I stared at him and then mentally steeled myself. I could deal with him for a few hours. Hopefully whatever unicorn-brainwashing Chelsea had done to him had given him an aversion to being a complete creep.
“Tupper,” a new voice cut in and I glanced past Jake, hoping for a reprieve. A good-looking guy in his late twenties stood there, and acoustic soft-shell guitar case slung over one shoulder. He had dark tousled hair that fell into his eyes, and a thick map of stubble across his jaw. Green, piercing eyes moved over me before he glanced at Jake. “Is this our label rep for today?”
“Darcy, meet Ethan Vengeance,” Jake said, his arm still around Willa’s shoulders. She looked like she was about to kick him in the balls. Ethan seemed to notice and he rubbed one hand over his other arm, which was tattooed heavily from the wrist to where it disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt.
“Nice to meet you Darcy. Can you call us a ride? We need to head out. We don’t have much time to get there,” Ethan said, pausing and giving me a shy smile. “It’s a stage name, by the way. My last name. I’m not really vengeful or anything.”
“It’s because he slays with the guitar,” Jake said, giving Willa’s shoulder a squeeze. Ethan frowned.
“More like I picked it out when I was an idiot fifteen year old and now I’m stuck with it,” Ethan corrected. His gaze lingered on the Jake’s hand on Willa’s arm, and for a moment it looked like he was about to grimace.
“Let me call that car,” I said. Willa took a breath.
“I’ve got to go get the volunteers from a street team sorted,” Willa said, and extricated herself from Jake’s grip with the diplomacy and grace of a saint. She shot me an apologetic look and held up her phone. She’d text me and fill me in on what the fuck. At least Ethan looked like he might be decent? Time would tell.
Willa escaped by the time I had called the car, and Ethan went to get water bottles for us, leaving me with a very silent Jake Tupper. He hovered by my desk awkwardly.
“Oh,” he said after a moment, “I forgot —” He reached into the backpack he was carrying, and emerged with a small clear gift box, wrapped with ribbon. He set it down on the desk. “I saw your desk was kinda devoid of greenery.”
Without thinking, I reached for the box, my hand stopping an inch from it when I saw what was inside.
A tiny cactus, its spines pressing up against the clear plastic.
“I —”
“They’re great because they don’t die easy,” Jake said cheerfully, like he hadn’t given me a cactus when I’d first come to the label and didn’t know about him. Like he’d forgotten entirely.
A cactus, if I remembered clearly, that I’d stabbed myself on. A sick realization and rise of panic in my gut froze me in place for a second. It wasn’t possible. Jake was a mundane. He didn’t know Creston. Creston didn’t know him. It wasn’t possible that the cactus he’d given me before had been the corrupted plant that had allowed Creston to layer my whole being with spells meant to torment and torture me.
“Hey let’s go.” Ethan was back with a handful of water bottles, breaking through the numb fear that had gripped me. He paused and looked down at the cactus, then frowned at Jake. “I thought we talked about this.”
“It’s just a cactus,” Jake muttered, glaring at Ethan. My gaze bounced between the two of them, my curiosity ratcheting up.
“We’re going to talk about this later,” Ethan said, his voice steady and even. “You know you’re skating on thin ice.”
“Not now, V,” Jake growled, “it’s just a fucking plant.”
“Car’s here in a minute,” I said, interrupting the tense moment. Was Ethan Jake’s, like, accountability partner to keep him from going off the rails and hitting on everything with legs?
Without another word, we walked outside and got into the waiting car. After a few minutes, Ethan broke the silence and asked Jake to look over the setlist for his radio appearance that morning one more time. I watched the city slide by the car windows, the nagging feeling that the cactus was maybe more than a cactus in the back of my mind.
I shot off a quick text to Wolfe, asking if we could talk later that day and when he might be down in the city. The cactus, I resolved, was going to stay in its packaging until he could look at it. As much as I wanted to throw it out, I needed his expertise.
Plus if I junked it, Jake might just buy me another damn cactus.
Radio appearances felt less new and exciting, and I sat quietly in the corner of the studio, taking pictures for Jake’s social media, and watching Ethan play. He was an effortless player, challenging even Eli’s skills, I thought with a pang. His fingers floated over the fretboard, and he never overplayed or walked over Jake’s singing. He wasn’t flashy, he was just there.
Jake stayed back for a few minutes to use the restroom before we moved onto the next radio station, and I waited outside with Ethan. He lit up a cigarette and took a slow drag, closing his eyes.
“That’s bad for you,” I said, unbidden. He smiled, eyes still closed.
“Everybody has a vice. Jake’s is women and being unable to take no for an answer,” he said with a reluctant laugh.
“So you’re helping him with that,” I hazarded. He shot me a look.
“Willa wouldn’t put you with Jake if she didn’t think you already knew his problems. He’s got an issue, and I’m not just a good guitarist. I’m also a life coach. I help artists stay on the straight and narrow. I don’t drink, and I don’t do drugs, and I don’t treat women like they’re disposable. Jake needed some guidance, so the label brought me in.” He took another drag on his cigarette. “Nobody asks questions because I play guitar, so it’s normal for me to be around an artist 24/7.”
“That’s genius,” I said. “He’s gonna need a lot of work.”
“Fuck, don’t I know it,” he said with a sigh. “I know he’s been a little shit, but I believe in rehabilitation and redemption. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“I guess,” I said, not sure how I felt about that. “Some people can’t be saved. Some people aren’t worth saving.” Ethan gave me a long, intense look.
“That’s a pretty fatalistic opinion,” he said slowly, stubbing his cigarette out on a lamppost and tucking the butt back into his carton.
“I guess I’ve been in some near-fatal situations,” I replied. Ethan’s eyebrows skipped up his forehead and then he nodded.
“That’d do it. I’m not sure Jake’s in that space where he can’t be brought to see a better way of living his life. We’ll see. Right now he isn’t even sure he has a problem.”
“Oh he definitely fucki
ng does,” I said with some heat, thinking of the way he’d been disrespectful and borderline-rapey. Ethan watched me with caution.
“You know if there’s something that happened, ever, or if something happens in the future, you can come talk to me. I’m not here to cover for him. I’m here to help him find the right path in life and stick to it.” There was a heavy sincerity in his eyes.
“I’ll let you know,” I said, not wanting to get into it, especially because Jake came out of the building a moment later. He had a big dumb smile on his face.
“That was freaking awesome. I think we totally owned it. What’s next?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ambled up to us.
“Lunch break on the way to the next station,” I said, checking my phone. “Tell me what you guys want and I’ll add the stop.”
The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, without incident. It wasn’t lost on me that Ethan kept himself positioned between me and Jake, as if Jake needed a 6’2”-ish beefed up guitarist to remind him to keep his hands and comments to himself.
Ethan had his work cut out for him, I thought as we returned to the record label, and I said goodbye to the two of them.
The cactus sat on my desk, encased in it’s packaging… something so small and so sinister wrapped up with a purple ribbon. I eyed it as I started putting together the street team kits, waiting for the day to be over. I was still feeling hollow inside from the fight I’d had with Finn the night before, and I just wanted the day to be done with. I needed Charlie, or Ace, or Cash, or all three of them, to pull me into their arms and hold me tight. Wolfe hadn’t gotten back to me yet, but that wasn’t unusual given his eccentric habits. He was probably sleeping or something.
“Hey,” one of the front desk girls stopped by. “You’ve got a visitor? Says she knows you, she followed someone else in who didn’t follow door protocol, I nearly called security, and she kinda pitched a fit —” I blinked up at her and then gazed past her. In the doorway to the production floor stood Max.
Eighteen
Darcy
Max looked like hell, her red hair pulled back in a tight bun to keep the dirty strands out of her face. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked like she was wearing someone else’s clothes. They were way too big for her, even hanging from her relatively tall frame. When she lifted a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, I saw the yellowing of an old bruise on her wrist.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach and i lurched to my feet.
“Yeah that’s my friend,” I said. “Is the casual conference room in use?"
“No," the front desk girl said, pausing for a moment. “Do you want me to get you guys tea or something?"
“Thanks,” I searched for her name for a second, “Missy, thanks." She smiled at me and disappeared into the kitchenette. I crossed the production floor, anxious not to trip over myself as I approached Max. The expression on her face shifted from pained to relieved when I held my arms open for her.
She let out a shaky breath and hugged me tight, burrowing into my embrace. A shiver ran through her as I held her.
“Hey," I whispered into her hair. “Let's go into this room over here." It was hard to pull away from my best friend, but she nodded, giving me a too-bright smile, her eyes watery.
“Sounds good." She followed me and I let her into a the room that I'd first met my pack in. It was weird to be back here now, with Max looking like she'd been dragged through hell.
“You look like shit," I said as the door closed. Max let out a burst of laughter and sank down on a leather couch, her hands trembling as she clasped them in her lap.
“It's been — it's been a time."
I watched her as she wrung her hands together, her shoulders hunched like she was afraid to take up space in the room. There were more bruises up her wrists than I’d noticed before, disappearing under the long plaid sleeves of her buttoned-up shirt. She caught where my gaze was landing and she tugged the sleeves down to cover her knuckles.
“I — I didn't know where to go," Max finally admitted. She shivered again and flinched when there was a knock at the door. Missy let herself in, carrying a tray with tea.
“I let Willa know you had a guest," Missy said, smiling briefly at Max before ducking out the door again.
“God I'm sorry, you're working, I just —" Max stumbled over her words, looking like she was about to take off.
“No, no, please, it's fine," I said. “I didn't really get a proper lunch break today because I was on the road with one of the artists doing radio... shows..." I trailed off. It didn't matter what I'd been doing that day. I didn't need to talk about it. “I thought Wolfe was looking after you?"
Max's eyes slid shut and her throat tightened as she swallowed hard.
“He was, his friends were," she said. “It's funny when you don't have a lot of choices, you just trust whoever's there and sometimes that's the wrong decision. I mean, Wolfe tried, it's just, some things happened, and..."
“What —"
“I don't want to talk about it," she said, biting the words off, a pained look crossing her face a second later. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."
I poured her a cup of tea and she took it with a grateful inhale of the steam, her hands wrapping around the mug. Her nails were broken and dirty, the ragged edges had been caught and torn. A shiver of anger was growing inside of me. What had Wolfe been doing? He'd promised me she was safe.
“We're staying at his place, Wolfe's, I mean,” I said. “We're staying at one of his apartments. He has this penthouse I guess, he said he forgot he'd bought it, and now we're there until we can find somewhere else for the guys to live," I was at a loss for words. She looked so hollow and I didn't know how to start to talk about what happened. Something awful had happened to her, and it didn't really matter that I'd gone through hell, too. I'd asked for it. I'd made some questionable life choices and gotten involved with werewolves .
Max had never asked for anything other than a year's subscription to Netflix and to borrow my highlighters.
And there she was, sitting on a couch that looked so big it was about to swallow her whole, her eyes frightened, bruises peppering her arms.
“I was gonna go back to our dorm," Max started, and she swallowed again, blinking back tears. “But it didn't — I couldn't... it didn't feel safe." She set down her teacup without taking a sip, her lower lip trembling.
“Oh Max," I breathed. Tears spilled down her cheeks and her shoulders gave a ragged shake.
“I can't go home, cause, Dad's, he's-" She wiped angrily at her cheeks and then burst into chest-heaving sobs. I practically threw myself across the space between us, wrapping my arms around her tight.
“Shit, Max," I said as I hugged her tight. She curled into me, her arms ringing my waist as she cried herself out into my shoulder. “You need to come home with me," I said. “It's safe with the guys."
She didn't need to know that Finn and Eli had twin sticks up their asses. I'd deal with them.
Max shook her head.
“I can't ask that, not after all the things I said to you, the guys must hate me, you must..." her voice was muffled against my shoulder.
“Shut up," I said weakly, “That doesn't matter. How hard has all of this been on you? Seriously, if that's the worst fight we ever had, we're lucky." She was my best friend. I'd always forgive her, always, and it's not like she was wrong either. “Besides," I hesitated, “I kinda found out some stuff. You weren't too far off the mark when you thought that I'd caused all your problems."
“What? No, you never..." Max pulled away, looking horrified with herself. “I never meant any of that. I was being such an asshole."
“Listen," I said, and then glanced at the door before spilling my guts to her. Her eyes, red from crying, grew wider as I told her about the woods, about Creston, the spells.
“Oh my fucking god," she said, sitting there, so stunned that she couldn't even cry anymore.
“So you lighting up like a bonfire-"
“Holy." She cleared her throat. “But it's fixed?" I nodded.
“All gone. Wolfe promised me. I trust him. I should, right?"
“I think so, I mean, he did his best to help me." She sighed and rubbed her arms as she pulled away from me, sitting with her knees touching mine. “I can't believe that, it's so crazy. I feel like this whole world had been blown wide open and my reality is totally shifted."
“Yeah, I kinda know that feeling, and this is my world. I'm beginning to feel like I don't know anything."
“You know nothing, Jon Snow," she said her voice rough, and we both looked at one another for a moment before bursting into wet, semi-hysterical laughter.
“I hate Game of Thrones," I confessed. “Too gory."
She giggled, wiping her face off again.
“You serious? You're like, exploding murderous wolf-hunters, and nearly killing your ex, I think... I think you should be totally fine watching Game of Thrones now."
I shook my head.
“Somehow it's different when it's fictional."
Max's eyes softened.
“You're weird, Darce, but I get it." She cleared her throat and took a sip of tea from her mug. Her eyes fluttered closed. We sat in comfortable but raw silence for a few moments.
A knock on the door made us jump, and Willa stuck her head in. She eyed Max up for one second and then smiled at me.
“Hey Darcy, I just wanted to let you know that you're good to go home early if you want," she said. Max sat up.
“Oh, no, I'm gonna head out," she said, putting her mug down. Willa's smile was gentle, but firm.
“It's really okay. Darce did me a big favor today, putting up with something she shouldn't have had to." Willa grinned at me. “But I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" With that, she closed the door with a solid click.
“Lemme take you home," I said. “The guys will be so excited to see you."
“Really?" Max looked so hopeful that my heart felt like it was going to shatter into pieces.