“This time for real, and we need a place to perform.”
“A club?” he asked.
“Hell yeah. A legit one. Five-hundred capacity minimum.”
“Hmm. That’s tricky with you and Bry under legal drinking age.”
“We’ll be eighteen soon, and don’t BS me, man. We can wear wristbands if we have to, and if clubs aren’t comfortable with having an underage band onstage, you can convince them otherwise. I wouldn’t come to you if I thought you couldn’t pull it off. ”
“Probably can, but if I do, you gotta come through for me too.”
“You do your part; I’ll do mine. That’s our arrangement. Have I ever let you down before?”
After a considering beat, Kyle nodded, but continued to look skeptical. “You’ll have to audition. Take whatever position you can get in the lineup.”
“We deserve top billing.”
“War, dude, you gotta start at the bottom like everyone else. And if you mess up, you probably won’t get another shot.”
“Won’t mess up,” I bit out. “Neither will Bry, and now we have a rhythm guy and another vocalist too.”
“Dizzy Lowell and his uppity sister?”
“Yeah.” My brows hit my bandanna. “How’d you know that?”
“It’s my business to know.”
“Who told you?” I asked, not buying that Kyle had godlike powers.
“Randy. He’s into the sister.”
My lips flattened.
“You didn’t know.” One of Kyle’s black brows inched up.
“No.” But shit. Bryan. Randy. The basketball dude at the party. Lace had only been at school one day, and she already had a line. Not that it mattered . . . it was me for her now. No one else.
“Cut her in as part of a sweetener for the deal,” Kyle said, “and I might be able to get you top billing somewhere.”
“How?” My eyes narrowed.
“Randy’s cousin is in a band, one that already has a big following.”
No way in fucking hell was I going to let another guy touch Lace. She was mine. But Kyle didn’t need to know that. “All right. Sure. Consider her in.”
“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.
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.