Page 128 of Dirty Roulette
“I got yours too.” I reach into my sports bra, handing over the flash drives I uncovered from Brody’s room. “We looked for you at the gas station but you weren’t there.”
“This is the best transaction of my life,” he wiggles his brows.
“Keep watch for me.” I slid into the room with the lights off and several computer monitors all over the room. I plop down in the whirling chair that’s still warm. Searching around, I find the main hard-drive and plug it in. The images on the computers shake, distort, and twitch, and all turn black with a single dot blinking on the screens. The codes start to funnel down the monitors like someone is typing a million words a minute.
“Holy hell!” I’m breathing hard, and fling myself off the seat. I peek out the blinds with two fingers at first, but then I yank on the strings, lifting the blinds all the way up for front row seats.
Noah’s head hangs low, holding onto the standing mic, pumping his head as the first chord strums. I recognize the beats of the guitaristand watch Omen move his fingers, playing each note perfectly. Lights go dark and the stadium is silent as the base of the drums set the pace. A Nineties classic, Come Undone by Duran Duran.
Not bad for someone who likes listening to Drake.
The grit in the voice is a near-perfect match to the vocals of the original. His extra grunts and growls give it spice and my heart thumps.
White lights on the ceiling start flashing and it’s accompanied by a loud blaring alarm. Shivers crawl up my spine to my face as I leap from the sound of the fire alarm going off. Then there is a loud grunting noise outside the door, and a booming thud makes the floor shake.
“Mr. Clorox?” I ask, watching the door crack open through the reflection on the window. I’m betting he’s cueing me – it’s time to make a break for it – but in the reflection all I see is an angry blonde Barbie, and the red mark on her face. Fear spreads throughout my bloodstream staring at her bloody hand. She fists a pocket knife. The blade glimmers, and it points at me.
The only sound is Noah’s voice singing between the loud beeps of the fire alarm, and Brittni staring at me with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.
“It should have been you!” Brittni’s lips tremble through the reflection of the window, and my eyes won’t leave her fist trembling with the knife. I glance at the door, cracked open just enough to show a lifeless fat hand on the floor. I lift my hands as if I’m surrounded by the swat team and I turn around to face her.
“What do you mean?” I swallow, but the devil is at my throat.
She’s chuckling loud enough to cause a fault line to blow. “I gave him everything! Fuckingeverythingfor him to always be looking at you!” She points the knife a foot away from my face. It’s right between my nose. “Fuckingyou!” She inches closer like a serpent coiling around a mouse before it strikes.
“I...”
“Shut up!”
I slam my eyes shut, trembling. The dream of ruining Brody molds into a nightmare right before my eyes. “I should be the one standing next to him, but sinceday oneyou’ve done nothing but try to steal him!”
Breathe Payton... Breathe. Snap out of it. It’s a knife. Mum helped you with this once. Cloud Nine is full of men with them. What did Mum teach you that day? Come on, it was your junior year. The kitchen, her running a hand through her curly hair as she held up a butter knife, telling me step by step.
Distance... that’s the first step.
“I’m the cheerleader with the football star, NOT YOU!” she shouts.
I inch my feet to the right, my back meeting the edge of the desk. “I never tried to steal him...” Step two. Verbal de-escalation, but my social skills are lacking. Might need to cross this one out. “We were only friends.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her… I...” Brittni’s eyes water, tears and sweat pool down her face. Blood-shot eyes rage as I scoot inch by inch along the edge of the desk. “I... I didn’t mean to. She was going to be my sister,” she stammers.
Charlie. My eyes glance to the objects on the desk. Step three. Find a hard, rigid object. There is only paper, pencils, and a damn paper plate with a half-eaten-powdered donut. Stay perpendicular to her, Payton.Fuck. I don’t even remember what that term meant in math. “I wanted to killyou. You’re nothing but Trailer Trash!”
My eyes dart to the metal trash can on the floor then to her face. Over and over.Now. I make a break for it. As she realizes my intentions, she lunges forward. The second I grab the trash can, her knifeclashes with the metal. With all my strength, I shove the trash can into her chest, knocking her into the monitors.
I back away, slipping out the door, and trip over the arm lying lifeless on the floor. Mr. Clorox gurgles, blood coughing up out of his mouth. I scream. Several puncture wounds cover the white security uniform, blood pooling below, and now it’s on me. My ears crackle and ring as I shriek. I’m shaking all over.
Brittni doesn’t hesitate to pursue, coming out of the doorway while I crawl backward with my forearms. The knife is still glued to her hand.
What did Mum say? What did she tell me? Shit. Left foot, Payton. Left foot. I raise it. Mum is talking to me in my head telling me to wait until the attacker approaches. She’s right above me, within reach of my feet. That’s it. I put my left foot against her heel, and slam my right leg against the back of her knee as hard as I can, pushing her away. Brittni falls face-first onto the tile floor, blood smearing all over the green Falcon logo.
“Run Payton...run!” Mr. Clorox says in mid-cough, blood spitting out between his teeth. I crawl up into a run with security racing from the opposite direction.
Chapter fifty-one
Ryder
Imust have skipped minutes again because Jared and Nick are hauling me off. Breathing is hard. Everyone is shouting expletives. I try to throw them off me, but they aren’t budging. Tito, a mountain of a man, and Farva hold my arms at my back as they try to shuffle me to another side of the locker room. I'm not calming down. At this point, I'm at my limit.
