Page 142 of Beneath the Stain
The SUV went quiet then, and Mackey turned around and grinned—Trav only got a part of it, but he could see it was fierce. “Yeah, but you taught me how to throw a punch, Kell. If it was even close to even, I took those fuckers down.”
Trav could see Kell’s grin in the rearview. “Yeah. You were a little scary on the preemptive strike, Mackey, but there’s no denying you took them down.”
Blake laughed and spoke up for practically the first time since they got on the plane. “You guys, there isnothingto fucking do here! Man, at least I grew up anhourfrom LA. You are practically an hour out from a pay toilet when you’re in the center of town. Jesus, Mackey—no wonder you did drugs. You were just used to being bored shitless!”
Mackey chuckled. Trav couldn’t decide if the bitterness was in Mackey’s voice or Trav’s ear. “Naw, man—I didn’t start doing drugs ’cause I was bored. I did theband’cause I was bored!”
Blake grunted. “Yeah, well, now that I know why you’re so fucking driven, I’m looking forward to playing again. I can’t go a day without the damned guitar now—it’s like a whole new coke!”
The mood of the car lightened up again, which was just fuckinggreat, because Trav wanted to hit something even worse.
His whole body was vibrating by the time they walked into the bar and got the evil-faggot once-over from the bartender—or at least that was what Trav assumed it was. While Mackey and the guys went to set up, Trav went to talk to the guy, and the impression didn’t get any better.
“You sure they don’t want the standard fee?” the guy asked, pulling up his upper lip. Okay—one of his front teeth wasn’t so much missing as black. Awesome. “Them kids always needed money back in the old days. Man, their old manager, kid who used to be lead guitar? Threatened to have his dad call in my car loan if I didn’t pay them the full fee.”
Trav swallowed on some of his anger, because dammit, Grant wasn’t the monster Trav wanted him to be. “These kids?” Trav said, and took a deep, even breath, “Have more in the bank right now than this entire fucking town is worth. They’re doing this for their friend. If you try to pay them, I will take your cash and shove it up your—”
“Hey, Delmont,” Mackey said cheerfully. “You giving Trav here shit?”
Delmont rolled his eyes. “He was throwing his weight around, yeah. I hear you went faggot on us, Mackey. That mean you don’t fight no more?”
Mackey snorted. “As. If. You wanna see how fuckin’ faggoty I got, you just go ahead and flash that word around some more. Hell, me’n Trav’ll go neck in the corner just to get people to start shit.”
Delmont’s eyes got so wide Trav could see the red-shot white all around his beady brown iris. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Mackey,” he all but begged. “Man, I need the business—folks won’t come in here, they think it’s that kind of place!”
Mackey hiked his skinny jeans up in back and adjusted the lace at his collar. “You know in LA, being that kind of place’d make you rich, doncha?”
Trav’s chest was tight with how much hedidn’tlike hearing the good ol’ boy slide back into Mackey’s voice. But Trav could see why Mackey had earned such a reputation as a fighter—and why Kell had been such a badass. It all came down to survival, didn’t it? Mackey could bait the guy now because he could walk away. When this place was your rent, that wasn’t so easy.
“Yeah, well, apparently it gays you up too, so I don’t wanna fuckin’ go there. Seriously—he says you don’t want the fee.”
Mackey glowered at Trav. “Yeah, we want the fee. We’re giving it to the local Goodwill—”
“Mackey!” Jesus, Trav didn’t want to support those people!
“Well, gay or no gay, Trav, they put shirts on our backs, so we’re giving them the fucking money.” Mackey glared at Delmont. “And thatdoesn’tmean you can screw us on the fuckin’ fee. You fork it over full and clear, and we’ll donate it same way.”
“Feeling fuckin’ full of yourself, Mackey?” Delmont sneered, and in a surge of hot, irritated men, Trav was surrounded by the rest of Outbreak Monkey.
“Jesus, Delmont, stop giving him shit,” Kell ordered, obviously disgusted. “You’re gonna make more fucking money tonight than you have in a month, ’cause Grant spread the fuckin’ word. Now give the fucking money to charity and get off my brother’s back!”
“This guy ain’t your brother,” Delmont muttered, looking sideways at Trav.
Trav was going to grab him by the throat with one hand and extract his eyeballs with his other. He had it planned. He would make it happen.
“No, idiot, he’s my boyfriend and our manager. He’s all legal and shit. Don’t fuckin’ mess with Trav—he’ll rip your arms off and feed ’em to ya.” Mackey smiled pleasantly with that, and then turned back to the guys. “You ready for a sound check yet? We had lunch back home and I’m not in the mood for fries and a beer.”
The fact that he didn’t mention he couldn’t evenhavebeer was telling. This man was not a friend, and they were not here for him.
The guys trotted onto the stage, and the crowd began to surge in. When they were ready to play for real, Grant walked in, people cutting him a wide berth like cancer was catching, but no one said anything to him—at least not that Trav could hear.
Trav had reserved a table in the corner, away from the speaker, a little off to the side, and Grant sank into the wooden seat gratefully. His eyes were red, and he looked a little out of it. But he also moved like he was in pain, and Trav was baffled for how to hold up any hostility for the guy, and that sucked. His hostility had been a shield for this past year, keeping Mackey innocent of his whole childhood, as much as Mackey had maintained he wasn’t.
“Your guy didn’t want to come in. He not a fan?” Grant asked under the crowd.
Trav shrugged. “He loves their music, but, you know. One concert, all concerts. Mostly he just likes to drive.”
Grant smiled, his cheeks appling and dimples popping, and for a quick moment, Trav saw a handsome kid with a bit of mischief in him. He had to breathe hard through his nose, and still, a little bit of an answering smile popped out.
