Page 68 of Dark Notes

I move away from him, but I can’t imagine them carrying Jagger, because he’s not a small guy. Jett grabs his left arm while Hendrix grabs his right, and they lift him while Jake stands behind him, at the ready, to not let him fall. I watch them curiously, because it’s almost as if they’ve done this before, because they seem to know exactly what to do.

“Thank fuck,” Jett says as Jagger begins to move slowly, causing Jake and Hendrix to chuckle.

“Let’s get you both home,” Jake says, but I hesitate.

“Wait. What about Erik?”

Jett laughs. “Someone will find him at some point, but it’ll be awhile. Nobody has used this space in nearly two decades. And Hendrix has the rope, because there will probably be DNA on it.”

I shake my head. Can they be this stupid?

“You just killed a man, and I’m sure there’s more DNA here than whatever is on the string.”

Jett chuckles, as he and Jake continue walking Jagger to the door, and he speaks, but it’s to Jagger, not me.

“One day, you’ll need to tell your girl how much fucking money you have, and what you can buy with it. You know,like police officers, and for investigations to vanish, along with evidence.”

My brain must be scrambled because I cannot wrap my head around this. Are they serial killers that happen to play music? Or a rock band that happens to be serial killers? I intend to find out the answer to those questions, but it’ll have to wait. Besides, maybe I’m still fucked up after all, because I’m not so sure the answer would even change my feelings about Jagger.

Jett nods to Jagger’s car. “Get in the back. He will sit with you, and I’ll take the front. Hendrix and Jake will take my car and meet us there.”

I get in, and they help Jagger into the backseat and lay him down as best they can, with his head on my lap. Immediately, I run my fingers through his hair. The need to touch him is powerful.

“Are you in pain?” I ask as his driver pulls out of the parking lot.

“Oh yeah. Being hit with a bat fucking hurts.”

Obviously, that was a stupid question. I think I just needed to hear his voice.

“I’m sorry. Jagger, I’m so sorry.”

He lifts his hand to my leg with a groan. “Don’t do that. You internalize everything, and this was not your fault.”

His voice comes out raspy and strained. I don’t respond to what he said, because it appears that maybe it hurts to talk, and he has been through enough pain today because of me.

We get to the house and Jett helps Jagger out of the car slowly. He hasn’t complained a lot about the pain, but I think it’s a lot worse than he’s letting on.

I hold on to him on one side, and Jett is on the other, as we go up the stairs at a snail’s pace. He stops moving after the fourth step.

“Fuck. Give me a minute.”

Jett glances at me, concern written all over his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

Once Jagger is ready to move, we continue on.

“Jesus Christ. I am fucking rich. Why don’t I have an elevator?”

Jett chuckles softly.

“That’s a good question, man. I told you to not go in by yourself.”

We finally make it to the bedroom, and Jett tries to help Jagger get undressed, but he isn’t having it.

“Fuck off. You just want to see my dick.”

Jett glares at him. “Yeah, you figured it out, Jagger. All these years, I’ve been your friend because I want your cock.”

I grab the waistband of his pants and pull them to the floor.

---