Page 53 of Darcy
Someone hands Dodger a shirt, and he shrugs it over his bare chest, accepting Sully’s praise with a fist bump, but I can’t pay attention to them. I’m searching for Darcy, trying in vain to pick out her blonde ponytail as Sully shepherds us away towards the area they’ve set up for the VIPs.
Except, instead of a room full of more fans, he pulls us into a closet.
“Now, which one of you is going to tell me what’s going on between you and our new pyro?” he demands. “Rumour has it her room was trashed, then she missed her flight and turned up on your jet just in time for setup? Are you fucking her? Because, boys, I understand the allure of a beautiful lady, but trust me, that there’s a nightmare just waiting to happen.”
I can’t help but smirk. Sully can’t really talk. He’s a terminal bachelor, and some of the stories of his youth that fall out of him when he gets drunk are hilarious.
“It’s not like that,” Slate says.
“She’s an old friend,” I interject, before Slate can protest too hard and land us in worse trouble.
Sully is like a dad to us, and has been since Miguel first shoved us into the world of touring. The band trusts him without question, but unfortunately, he also has a dad’s tendency to chew us out when we’re doing something really stupid.
Something like pursuing a relationship with a perfect girl while under the thumb of a psychopath who has no compunctions about using anyone we care for against us.
“Oh, good. You cornered them.” Emma slips into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I saw Gabrielle on her way to the VIP room, so we don’t have long. Now. What’s the deal with that girl?”
Our pseudo-dadandmy baby sister heading the inquisition? I can’t help my groan.
“Ems,” I begin. “She’s Dark Angel.”
Maybe that will help her see why we can’t back off.
Her eyes narrow. “That nerd girl you’ve been internet buddies with since I was a kid? No way. People you met online don’t just suddenly show up in your life like that. That’s too much of a coincidence.” She pauses. “Has she asked you for anything? Money?”
My younger sibling is too suspicious for her own good, but I can’t blame her. She’s had too much first-hand experience of people who’d like to use her just because she’s my sister. Our own parents, for one.
“She’s practically allergic to our cash,” Dodger grouches. “I’m trying to figure out how to get her a raise—”
“That’swhy we’re getting a bonus this tour?” Emma whisper-screeches. “So you can sneak money to her?”
“She wasn’t going to take it otherwise!” he retorts. “I tried to buy her lunch at the airport, and she sneaked away and paid for the whole table by herself when she went to the bathroom. Who does that when they’re out eating with millionaires?”
Emma isn’t fooled. “Someone who wants to worm their way in—”
Sully holds his hand up for silence. “It is a bit suspicious. Your oldest friend turns up after all these years—working for you, no less—and you’re not even a bit curious as to how? Even if thisisthe mother of all coincidences, instead of protecting the girl by steering clear, you’ve decided to put her squarely in Miguel’s crosshairs?”
“Exactly!” Prophet groans. “Talk some sense into these idiots. Please.”
“Don’t pretend you’re not just as invested as the rest of us,” Slate retorts.
Oh, please stop. I think, desperately. This fighting is endless, and discomfort creeps down my spine like goosebumps.
“You know what I’m invested in?” Prophet demands, and I take a step back as the tension between the two of them once again bursts into being. “Getting the fuck out of this band before this fucking deal we made kills someone. Do you know that they’ve sent fucking cronies to Malik’s schoolagain? Even kids aren’t safe from these assholes.”
Emma is watching me like a hawk, and I try my hardest not to shrink any further at the reminder that all of this is my fault.
I hate this. The arguing. The blame. The constant reminder that our once indestructible friendship is shattered into jagged little pieces, and only the fucking deal with the cartel is holding us together. The anger is a constant undercurrent whenever we’re alone together, but it’s been about a month since Prophet and Slate had a real blow up at one another.
The fragile hope which was humming in my blood turns sour as Dodger steps in, trying to keep the peace, as usual.
“We’re all buzzed from the stage,” he reasons. “We can talk about this later. Right now, we have to go and meet those fans, or Miguel will just arrange for something worse than a trashed hotel room.”
That reminder shuts us up.
“I’m pretty sure they’re planning some kind of deal to go down when we stop in El Paso,” Sully says. “I’m keeping my ear to the ground, and I’ll grab whatever evidence I can. We just have to find the right contacts to deal with this.” He pauses. “Just hang on a little longer, boys. This can’t go on forever. In the meantime, keep that girl safe. She seems nice enough, and if she’s not involved, best keep it that way, yeah?”
He opens the closet door and ducks out before ushering the others out. I try to follow, but I’m not that lucky. Emma stops me with a hand on my jacket.
