“I saw you tonight. If any of the others had seen your little show, you’d be dead.”
My jaw is clenched. He must not appreciate my I-don’t-give-a-shit expression, because he points a hefty finger at my face.
“You listen to me right now, kid, and you listen good.” His eyes. He is beyond furious about what happened tonight. “You stay the hell away from my daughter. You understand me?”
I swallow hard, but my throat is still dry. “I was planning to, sir.”
“You’re no good for her.”
Stab.
“I agree, sir.”
He narrows his beady brown eyes as if searching for sarcasm. I am too numb to manage any sort of sarcasm or wit.
“You think you’re in love with her?”
I don’t answer this, and he plows forward.
“You think she loves you? That she’s meant for you? Wrong, lover boy. My girl’s meant for bigger things. She loves everybody and everything. You’re just a stray she’ll eventually forget about. Understand?”
Everything he’s said is true, but that doesn’t mean my insides aren’t ripped out. It doesn’t mean there’s not a part of me that somehow hoped I was wrong and that Belial might see whatever good thing Anna sees in me. But Belial sees the real me. The unworthy me.
My lips move, “Yes, sir,” but only dry sound comes out.
“You are not a safe option, not as a friend, and not as anything else. If Anna wants to pal around with Neph, it sure as hell’s not gonna be you. She can fall for that son of Alocer all day long, but I’ll be damned if I let the son of Pharzuph fuck with her heart.”
I grit my teeth. It feels as if a boa constrictor has encircled my chest. I give a tight nod.
“I know you thought you were cute tonight, playing Romeo like a God-damned fool, but the bullshit ends right now. If you ever endanger her again—if you dare to contact her or so much as look at her, I have friends who will make your death look like an accident. Am I clear?”
To see myself through his eyes—to be reminded so sharply and clearly of all the reasons I’m unworthy of Anna . . . it’s like a series of stinging slaps across the face. Belial’s eyes bore into me and his nostrils flare. I give him another nod, my neck stiff. He rubs his goatee down and pushes back from the bar.
Belial leaves me there in Hoboken, where I sit until they kick me out. I walk the streets in darkness, hoping to be finished off by drug dealers or gangs, but it turns out the bad guys are never around when you need them.
Perhaps I should pray for an angel of mercy to put me out of my misery. No, I will not pray again. I’m thankful Anna was saved, but having my own life spared feels like a fluke, and I dare not remind the Maker I’m still here. Still, I will make good on my end of the bargain.
I walk.
At six in the morning I ring our lead singer, Michael, from a street in Jersey City.
“What the fuck, Rowe?” he grumbles.
“I’m in.”
It takes him a moment to catch my meaning, and then he chuckles. I’ve been the only Lascivious member who hasn’t yet agreed to make the suggested move to L.A. We can focus on our music full time. I’ve been holding out, wanting to remain close to Anna.
“Hell yeah, baby.” His voice is raspy with sleep. “You been up all night?”
“Yeah,” I say.
He laughs again. “We’re gonna rock that shit in L.A. Wait and see how much ass you get out there, man. You won’t regret it.” He yawns into the phone.
I feel none of his enthusiasm. I feel nothing. “Go back to sleep, mate.”
“Yep. Later.”
We disconnect and I hail a cab for the Newark airport, wondering if I’ll ever feel anything again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Postcard
“It’s like somebody stole the biggest piece of me,
I may never see it again, I may never see you again.”
—“Before the Fall” by The Rescues
I should have hired movers, but I didn’t trust anyone to touch my drums. I leave behind my bedroom set but take everything else from the basement with the help of Michael, Raj, and Bennett. I don’t think Father is thrilled about not having me under his thumb any longer, but he approves of my continuing on as a musician. I haven’t told him I plan to drop out of school when I turn eighteen in March.