Page 43 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

I freeze. She takes my hand and places it where a necklace might be if she was wearing one, but my brain breaks and the earlier problem I had in the pool comes back with a vengeance. She leans toward me and I can’t breathe anymore. Her head tips forward and her eyes close and like a speeding train there’s no stopping it. Her lips touch mine and I canfeelandseethe scene she described.

Then, all too quickly, her lips are gone, and I take in a sharp breath, blink her back into focus. The only sound is our breathing and the cicadas chirping in the tall grass outside.

“How . . . how was that?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, no hint of that accent she had only minutes ago.

My mouth bobs open and closed for a few seconds.She’s just acting. I remind myself she didn’t kiss me because she likes me, but because it was part of the scene. Why does that make me so sad?

“That was the best acting I’ve ever seen.” I finally say.

The worry on her face softens. “Really?”

I nod and swallow. “Really. We’re going to get out of here, Dusty. Everyone will know who we are someday. Both of us.”

CHAPTER11

Bad Blood

JOEL

Idon’t step inside the house until after dark, with a paper bag full of groceries we don’t need. Key comes into the kitchen from the living room a few seconds later, his hair standing on end and a beer in his hand.

“Joel, where the fuck have you been?”

“I had to get some things,” I say, setting down the bag on the counter.

He pulls out a jar of sauerkraut and cough medicine. “This? This is why you’ve been gone for hours?”

I shrug. “They didn’t have it at Fred’s. I had to go across town for the good stuff.”

“‘The good stuff’?” Key blusters. “Since when are you a sauerkraut connoisseur?”

“Since always!” I insist, sure he can see right through the lie.

I put away the rest of the items while Key watches me intently. When I close the fridge, he sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, dude.” He grabs his beer off the coffee table. “This came today while you were out.” He slides a letter to me across the table. It’s opened and handwritten, so it’s not a bill.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Just read it.”

Picking up the paper, I unfold it and read.

Joel and Key,

I was disappointed to have our reunion last week tainted by such animosity and violence. Perhaps it was too much to hope that either of you have grown up and we could have a civilized conversation. I see now that I was wrong. I’m sorry that you both still feel such hatred toward me and our past friendship, especially when you consider how close we once were. You think you know people, then they stab you in the back. I didn’t want it to come to this, and I hope you remember that going forward I’m just trying to do what’s right.

Logan Samuels

“What in the actual fuck?” I shout. Key seats himself at one of the barstools and downs the rest of his beer. “No, seriously, what the fuck is this?”

“Apparently One-Punch Logan is more delusional than we thought,” he says, sounding exhausted.

“‘I’m just trying to do what’s right?’” I ask, scanning the letter again. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Beats me. The guy’s an idiot with an ego the size of the moon. Always has been, always will be. I knew when he showed up at the show it was a bad omen. Things have been going too well around here.”

“Should we call Al? Let him know?”

Key frowns and twists his lips. “Let him know what? That a guy who was never officially part of the band showed up after eight years and sent us a vaguely threatening letter?” He shakes his head. “Look, he’s probably just bluffing. Trying to scare us into giving him some money. Once he realizes we’re not playing around, he’ll go away.”

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