Punk 57
Page 81
She wants to party? Fine. She wants some space? Okay. But going anywhere near that asshole or being entertainment for some horny little shit who wants to touch her is pushing me too far. Ryen doesn’t do fucking body shots. She’s trying to piss me off, and it’s working.
And I think of Annie and what she did to herself, because she wasn’t thinking straight, either.
By the time we make it to Trey Burrowes’ house, I’m more worked up than I’ve ever been, but I know if I go in there half-cocked, she’ll just fight back, and I’ll walk out of there without her.
We climb out of the truck, and I can feel the vibrations of the music out to the street. “Bad Girlfriend” plays, and I glance around, seeing the houses all a good distance away from each other, but some of them have to be able to hear this noise. I’m tempted to call the cops myself, if they haven’t been called already, just to break it up and send Ryen home. But no. I’ll let her choose.
As we walk into the house, a group of girls runs past us to the stairs, laughing and falling into the wall as they stumble up the steps.
“Nice,” Lotus laughs, making like he’s going to follow them.
But I grab his black ponytail and pull him back. We’re not here for that.
“Hey, man.” J.D. comes up, shaking my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. You going to set off some fireworks?”
I laugh to myself, knowing he knows I would rather swallow needles than be in this house. “I wasn’t planning on it. Have you seen Ryen?”
He shakes his head. “Not in the last fifteen minutes.” And then he narrows his eyes on me. “You going to tell me what’s going on between you two?”
“No.”
He snorts. “Okay.” And then he moves around me toward the family room. “I’ll be close. If you need me.”
I nod and look back at the party, scanning the crowd as we step down into the living room.
“Well, well, well,” Trey says, stepping through the crowd and approaching me. “What the fuck do we have here?”
He’s flanked by a couple of his friends, and I steel my spine, keeping my expression hard as I stare at him.
“You want trouble?” he says. “We can give you trouble.”
I feel my bandmates inch in closer, and Trey’s eyes flash to them as if finally realizing I’m not alone.
“Not in my parents’ house, though,” he clarifies, suddenly nervous.
Enough. “Where’s Ryen?” I demand.
He laughs. “Have you checked in one of the rooms upstairs? Little cock tease had some liquor tonight, so she might finally be giving up that pussy. I can’t wait for my turn.”
I lunge out and grab him by the collar of his T-shirt, both of our crews moving in.
But I catch sight of something to my left, and I look down, seeing a cuff wrapped around Trey’s wrist.
And on the cuff, secured by two straps, is an antique Jaeger-LeCoultre timepiece.
My heart pounds in my ears. “Where the hell did you get that watch?”
His eyebrows dig in, and I shake him, feeling a thick swell of bile rise in my throat. He didn’t get it from her. She wouldn’t have given it to him. No.
“Misha!” someone calls. But I ignore them.
All I see is Trey.
“Misha?” someone murmurs. “Who’s Misha?”
The music is still going, but I stare at him, feeling more people start to crowd around us.
I push him away, releasing him as I tighten my fists. She gave it to him?
“Leave,” Ryen orders, appearing at my side.
I jerk my eyes to her and stare down, hovering. “Don’t talk and don’t move,” I bite out, taking in her tits, plain as day in her bikini top and off-the-shoulder shirt that hangs on her like a shredded piece of fucking Kleenex. “You’re all over Facebook, shaking your ass and doing body shots. I’m not happy.”
Her eyes go wide, shock and anger flaring. “Excuse me?” she yells as a couple of girls giggle.
But I turn back around, advancing on Trey. “Where the fuck did you get that watch?”
“What’s your problem?” he snarls. “Go fuck yourself!”
I rear back and punch him across the face, knocking him to the ground. The whole place erupts as his friends and my friends go for each other and partygoers scream and jump out of the way. I dive down and dig my keys out of my pocket, unsheathing the knife on my key chain and leaning over Trey. Everyone above me goes crazy, and I grab Trey’s wrist as he winces from the pain in his face.
“Get off me!” He tries to yank his arm away from me.
But I slide the dull knife between the watch strap and his wrist and pull hard, slicing it off his arm.
“Misha!” I hear Ryen call, and I stand up as everyone stumbles around me.
“Everyone stop now!” a deep male voice bellows from behind. “Turn off the music!”
I look behind me, seeing two cops in black uniforms enter the house, one of them holding his hands around his mouth and shouting.
Shit. I guess someone did report the noise. The whole crowd scurries, running out the sliding glass doors or into the kitchen, where there’s probably a back door.
I shove the watch and key chain at Dane. “Take my truck. Get the guys and go!”
He grabs the stuff from me and alerts Lotus and Malcolm as the two cops busy themselves, trying to stop kids from leaving. My friends dive out the back and disappear, while I stand still, looking over and seeing Ryen, surprised she’s still here.
And I think of Annie and what she did to herself, because she wasn’t thinking straight, either.
By the time we make it to Trey Burrowes’ house, I’m more worked up than I’ve ever been, but I know if I go in there half-cocked, she’ll just fight back, and I’ll walk out of there without her.
We climb out of the truck, and I can feel the vibrations of the music out to the street. “Bad Girlfriend” plays, and I glance around, seeing the houses all a good distance away from each other, but some of them have to be able to hear this noise. I’m tempted to call the cops myself, if they haven’t been called already, just to break it up and send Ryen home. But no. I’ll let her choose.
As we walk into the house, a group of girls runs past us to the stairs, laughing and falling into the wall as they stumble up the steps.
“Nice,” Lotus laughs, making like he’s going to follow them.
But I grab his black ponytail and pull him back. We’re not here for that.
“Hey, man.” J.D. comes up, shaking my hand. “I’m glad you’re here. You going to set off some fireworks?”
I laugh to myself, knowing he knows I would rather swallow needles than be in this house. “I wasn’t planning on it. Have you seen Ryen?”
He shakes his head. “Not in the last fifteen minutes.” And then he narrows his eyes on me. “You going to tell me what’s going on between you two?”
“No.”
He snorts. “Okay.” And then he moves around me toward the family room. “I’ll be close. If you need me.”
I nod and look back at the party, scanning the crowd as we step down into the living room.
“Well, well, well,” Trey says, stepping through the crowd and approaching me. “What the fuck do we have here?”
He’s flanked by a couple of his friends, and I steel my spine, keeping my expression hard as I stare at him.
“You want trouble?” he says. “We can give you trouble.”
I feel my bandmates inch in closer, and Trey’s eyes flash to them as if finally realizing I’m not alone.
“Not in my parents’ house, though,” he clarifies, suddenly nervous.
Enough. “Where’s Ryen?” I demand.
He laughs. “Have you checked in one of the rooms upstairs? Little cock tease had some liquor tonight, so she might finally be giving up that pussy. I can’t wait for my turn.”
I lunge out and grab him by the collar of his T-shirt, both of our crews moving in.
But I catch sight of something to my left, and I look down, seeing a cuff wrapped around Trey’s wrist.
And on the cuff, secured by two straps, is an antique Jaeger-LeCoultre timepiece.
My heart pounds in my ears. “Where the hell did you get that watch?”
His eyebrows dig in, and I shake him, feeling a thick swell of bile rise in my throat. He didn’t get it from her. She wouldn’t have given it to him. No.
“Misha!” someone calls. But I ignore them.
All I see is Trey.
“Misha?” someone murmurs. “Who’s Misha?”
The music is still going, but I stare at him, feeling more people start to crowd around us.
I push him away, releasing him as I tighten my fists. She gave it to him?
“Leave,” Ryen orders, appearing at my side.
I jerk my eyes to her and stare down, hovering. “Don’t talk and don’t move,” I bite out, taking in her tits, plain as day in her bikini top and off-the-shoulder shirt that hangs on her like a shredded piece of fucking Kleenex. “You’re all over Facebook, shaking your ass and doing body shots. I’m not happy.”
Her eyes go wide, shock and anger flaring. “Excuse me?” she yells as a couple of girls giggle.
But I turn back around, advancing on Trey. “Where the fuck did you get that watch?”
“What’s your problem?” he snarls. “Go fuck yourself!”
I rear back and punch him across the face, knocking him to the ground. The whole place erupts as his friends and my friends go for each other and partygoers scream and jump out of the way. I dive down and dig my keys out of my pocket, unsheathing the knife on my key chain and leaning over Trey. Everyone above me goes crazy, and I grab Trey’s wrist as he winces from the pain in his face.
“Get off me!” He tries to yank his arm away from me.
But I slide the dull knife between the watch strap and his wrist and pull hard, slicing it off his arm.
“Misha!” I hear Ryen call, and I stand up as everyone stumbles around me.
“Everyone stop now!” a deep male voice bellows from behind. “Turn off the music!”
I look behind me, seeing two cops in black uniforms enter the house, one of them holding his hands around his mouth and shouting.
Shit. I guess someone did report the noise. The whole crowd scurries, running out the sliding glass doors or into the kitchen, where there’s probably a back door.
I shove the watch and key chain at Dane. “Take my truck. Get the guys and go!”
He grabs the stuff from me and alerts Lotus and Malcolm as the two cops busy themselves, trying to stop kids from leaving. My friends dive out the back and disappear, while I stand still, looking over and seeing Ryen, surprised she’s still here.
