Page 76 of Darcy
Sully stands in the wreckage of our hotel room, open-mouthed.
There’s pizza and glass everywhere, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try to imagine what he’s thinking right now. Dodger and Arlo are both gone, leaving me and Prophet to try to avoid the stare of our production manager.
Everyone thinks that Prophet is the one with a temper, but unfortunately Sully knows us well enough to know exactly whose fault this is.
“Well, I’ve seen some shitty behaviour from you boys in the past, but this…” He scrubs at his face with one hand. “What the hell happened? You’re not fighting again?”
“Slate lost it,” Prophet grunts, unnecessarily.
Like he’s any better.
“How many hours did you spend in the gym this morning?” I retort.
I don’t need him to remind me of how badly I lost control. I haven’t had an outburst like this since—
I cut off the thought and go back to purposefully making myself feel every second of a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow exhale. How many freaking classes did I take to get myself under control? How many therapy sessions? It’s been years. I thought I’d mastered this.
This feels like a slap in the face. A failure.
“What happened?” Sully asks again, gentler this time.
Prophet just turns away, scrubbing his hand down his face. I guess it’s up to me to explain, though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.
“We broke up with Darcy.”
Sully shakes his head. “All this over a girl?”
“Not just any girl,” I retort. “Thegirl. Miguel threatened her, and we decided you were right. It’s just not safe for us to have her.”
Calling Darcy “a girl” is like calling the sun “just a star.” Yeah, it’s technically the same thing, but it massively understates the impact she has on our lives.
The old man folds his arms and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve decided I was right before you started dating and saved yourself all this angst. She’s already on his radar now.”
“She’s not.” Prophet slumps on the sofa.
“We told him she was just Dodger’s latest fuck toy.” And I felt like dirt for playing along. “He made sure to keep whining about how clingy she was every time Miguel or his lackeys were in earshot.”
Some of the shit he said made me want to deck him. Our girl’s enthusiasm is a glowing thing that makes life seem fuller when we’re around her. After a day spent loudly talking shit about her to throw Miguel off her scent, I was already wound tight. Coming back here to have her just walk out, without even fighting for us, was the match that lit the fuse.
The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d fucked up. I should never have let Prophet convince me that this was a good idea. My conviction started to wane the second I saw the hurt in her eyes. Yes, Darcy’s safety is everything, but every single atom in my body is telling me we made the wrong choice.
We should’ve just told her what she was really dealing with and let her decide. I know our past isn’t exactly a glowing example of us at our best, but keeping this whole thing from her has just driven the five of us further apart.
“We have to get her back,” I mutter under my breath. “Sully, we need a way out of this. Come on. There must be some evidence you’ve found that will be enough to get Miguel shut away.”
I know we’ll probably have to take a plea deal if Miguel is arrested. We’ll probably have to serve more time inside because of it. For all that we’re actively working against him, and we technically have nothing to do with his operations, we’re accomplices because we earn money from the gigs.
I hate that dirty money, but we’ve done our best to do good with it. We’ve funded more philanthropic causes than any other band in history. Maybe Darcy will wait for us until we’ve served our sentence, but can we really ask that of her?
Do we have any choice, when the alternative is watching her move on with someone else?
Sully shakes his head. “We’re not there yet, and we have to be careful with this. Just give me a few more days.” He looks around, noting the open bedroom doors. “Where are the other two?”
I shrug. “They left.”
I was in too much of a blind rage to notice them disappearing, but I’m not surprised that they did. Arlo hates conflict—always has—and Dodger doesn’t deal well with stress because it triggers his insomnia, so he probably gave up and went for a walk.
“Left?! Boys, you have to be on a jet to Vegas in two hours.”
