Page 79 of Darcy
His brows rise above the rims of his sunglasses. “Those are personality flaws, not a drug problem.”
I’m pretty sure an addictive personality counts as a flaw too, but I don’t want to get into an old argument. It won’t stop how shitty he’s feeling right now.
I shrug, uncomfortable. “When I got that letter telling me not to bother coming home, you remember what you did?”
Dodger and Arlo got out of juvie on the same day, two weeks before me. Dodger was in a shitty place, thanks in part to his mom dying while he was inside, so I wasn’t going to bother him, but I told Arlo.
He shrugs. “That was a long time ago.”
I jam the buttons on the machine, waiting impatiently for it to hand out our drinks. “You went out and found a bunk bed for your room in Dodger’s house, so I had somewhere to sleep.”
It was the most uncomfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, probably because he got it from a garage sale for cheap, but it meant the world to a kid who’d been unexpectedly made homeless.
Dodger never charged us rent, despite how useless we both were around the house. I was eating up money trying to put myself through online classes while working shit-paying janitor jobs. Arlo was desperately trying and failing to make a commission business turn a profit with his art while taking night shifts at a factory.
What little money we had left, we were scrimping together and spending on pedalboards, amps, and Gibsons just to score gigs at seedy bars in a vain effort to get noticed.
We both knew how Dodger was paying the bills, but he always made it clear that it was his choice.
“Yeah, well. You paid me back.” Arlo runs his hands over his arms again, and I thrust a bottle of water at him.
“We look after each other,” I finish. “That’s why I’m not going to let Prophet break up this band. That’s why when this is over, we’re going to do whatever it takes to win her back.”
“She’ll have moved on,” Arlo mopes. “She said it herself. She has options.”
Taking a deep breath, I force back the fury at the idea of anyone laying hands on our girl and shake my head to clear the image of her with some faceless fuck.
“Darcy will take us back,” I promise. “You heard Sully; we just have to make it to El Paso. That’s our ticket to freedom. Then we can apologise to her. We’ll pull out all the stops. Propose to her on the Eiffel Tower or something.”
Arlo scoffs. “She’d hate that.”
Eh, he’s probably right. She’s not really into clichés. Unfortunately, I think a proposal on the bridge of the UNSC Pillar of Autumn is out of the question. What really matters there is that Arlo never objected to proposing to her.
He’s still in.
“We’ll leave the romantic details to you and the makeup sex to Dodger,” I retort. “The point is, this is all going to work out.”
I hope.
Twenty-Seven
Darcy
The next two days are awkward as hell. My heart might be broken into tattered pieces, but the rest of the world marches on, regardless. When I’m not working for the band, I hide in my room, diving into the cartel’s servers and ignoring everyone. Hazardous plays in Phoenix and then finally moves on to El Paso, and the awkwardness between the five of us is tangible. Every member of the road crew is keenly aware that I’m no longer staying in their hotel room or flying on their jet—like it’s any of their business.
The gossip mill is going wild, spitting all sorts of wild theories that range from the believable to the obscure. The best one had me dumping the band in favour of a relationship with Emma, even though she’s not spoken to me once since.
Thankfully, Sully has been quick to snap the gossipers back to work. Once going so far as to offer me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he passed. I say a silent thanks for his interference as I pick my way across the backstage area just after setting off the final gerbs for the encore.
The brothers’ meeting is scheduled for after the show. Too close to the end of the concert for me to pack down with the rest of the crew and then go. So I have to sneak out.
Fortunately for me, backstage is chaos as everyone focuses on packing the trucks to drive to Austin overnight. I wore my darkest clothes in an effort to blend in, but I don’t think it was necessary, given how little attention I’m paid.
Until I’m almost at the door. “Hey, Darcy?”
I turn, offering Nate, one of the lighting techs, a bland smile. “What’s up?”
“Have you seen Sully?”
