Page 3 of Before Eve
It’s why I insist you keep your hair long. It’s the only thingyou’ve got going for you.
Clenching my jaw, I put the scissors at my chin andwhackit right off. With it, a harsh laugh escapes. Holding the long and thick blond chunk out in front of me, a wry smile creases my lips.
I cut the rest of my hair up to my chin, put on latex gloves, and tear into the burgundy-red dye. I stay in the handicap stall for half an hour as it sets. Someone comes in to use the one beside me and then leaves. I spend my time staying as still as possible, like even if I move somehow Grayson will know it. Finally, it’s time to rinse the dye out, and as I do so in the handicap stall’s solitary sink, they make an announcement for my bus to Boston.
I clean the mess the best I can and shove everything in the garbage, and I wedge a baseball hat over my wet head. With my duffel and guitar, I hurry across the mostly empty station and out into the loading bay. I don’t think I breathe the entire time. I don’t lift my head either, but from under my cap, I scan the area.
“ID and ticket,” the driver says.
With clammy, shaky fingers I hold out both, and he takes them. If he notices my unsteady hands, he doesn’t mention it. Then he’s waving me on, and I’m boarding. I’m boarding!
I find a seat halfway back and tuck in, lowering my cap even further and surreptitiously staring out the windows. One by one people continue to board and I don’t make eye contact with any of them. An elderly gentleman sits down beside me and proceeds to fall asleep.
Eventually, boarding is done. The driver takes his seat. Slowly, we pull away. As we do, I take what feels like the first breath I’ve had. My new name is Eve Lake. Though I’m only sixteen, my fake ID says I’m eighteen.
And I am officially running for my life.
CHAPTER 2
One MonthLater
It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to explain why I don’t like people in my personal space, touching me. It’s like every touch is Grayson’s.
This makes my job as a roadie extremely uncomfortable, especially in a closed-in, crowded venue like tonight, with all these bodies thrashing under the strobe lights.
I’m hovering along the wall, scanning the pit, making sure I can see all the exits. Grayson’s team wouldn’t expect to find me on the crew of Raking Nails but I still worry.
The lead singer screams into the mike, and I push the earplugs further into my ears. These guys really stink. I don’t know why Brynn signed me up for a metal band. I’ve got to get on with a new crew. I want to listen to music I like.
As I turn toward the exit door, one of the thrashing bodies hip-checks me, and I stumble into some guy. “Whoa, sorry,” I say, grabbing onto him.
He grips my hips to steady me and gives a friendly laugh. “You okay?” he shouts over the music.
Strobes light his face, and even in the darkness of the club I make out dark black eyes. But not soulless black. More like darkchocolate. But even as I notice this I also notice we’re close. Too close. And we’re touching.
Suddenly, pressure moves in on me, and air painfully pushes at my lungs. I’m not helpless, I tell myself. I’m not trapped. Yet, I still twist from his hold.
Immediately, he puts his hands in the air. “Easy.”
I back away, my heart thumping, feeling strangely lightheaded.
“Hey, you okay?” he asks again.
I shake my head more to clear it than to answer his question. It’s been a month now, and I’m okay. Grayson has no clue where I am.
The guy dips his head, trying to catch my frozen gaze. “Hello?”
“Sorry,” I mumble, taking the plugs from my ears and holding them up as if they were the reason for everything.
He flashes a teasing smile. “All good.”
From a foot away, I’m really looking at him now. He’s tall with short black hair under a fedora and dark stubble across his cheeks. He’s not so much smiling, but more grinning.
“Sorry,” I say again, this time louder. “The crowd’s a bit crazy tonight.”
“It’s the crappy music,” he jokes. “Makes the girls leap into my arms to be rescued.”
I chuckle, and the sound strikes me as odd. I can’t recall the last time I chuckled. For that matter, I can’t recall the last time I genuinely smiled.
