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I slowly spin on my heels and cock my head at her. “Try me. See if I care.”
Her eyes were fiery before, but now they’re blazing to the point where she might explode, and I can almost see the steam coming from her ears.
“Fuck you, Cole. I will fucking find out what you did to Monica, and when I do, you will be sorry you ever existed,” she snarls, and she storms out the room and slams the door shut without even saying goodbye to her new lover.
“Wow. That was explosive,” Michael says. “What a …”
“Maniac?” I fill in.
He laughs. “Well, I wasn’t gonna say that, but …”
“It’s the truth, though,” I reply.
“I was gonna ask you, but you were too busy with that other chick, so I figured I’d tell you later. But you’re okay with it, right?” Michael asks. “I mean, no hard feelings.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I retort, maybe a little too harsh, but it gets the point across. “Don’t ever bring her here again. Got it?”
“Sheesh,” he says, scowling. “Taking out your shit on me today or something?” He eyes me up and down. “And what happened to your shirt anyway?”
I close my eyes and take a long, deep breath. “Accident.”
He frowns at me as he grabs his guitar and steps onto the stage. “Yeah, sure looks like an accident.”
He’s obviously fishing, but I’m not gonna give him the satisfaction of knowing it was Monica. Especially not knowing what he is capable of. “Can we just fucking start?”
“Fine,” he says, and he fishes his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll text the rest and tell them to get their asses down here ASAP.”
Chapter 22
Monica
On my way to the club where TRIGGER’s going to play tonight, I get a call.
When I pick up, a voice immediately blares through the phone. “Did Cole hurt you?”
“Whoa …” I mutter. “Ariane? Why are you calling me?”
“I just wanna know. I was gonna talk to you in person, but when I went to your house after class, your mom said you weren’t there, so I thought I’d call.”
“I don’t …” I stammer, completely taken by surprise.
I get that she’s concerned about me, but how did she find out? Who told her? Cole?
“Don’t make it difficult,” she says. “Either he did something to you, or he didn’t. Which is it?”
“Y-yes,” I reply while crossing the street.
“I knew it!” she screams, almost causing me to step out in front of the traffic. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”
“No,” I say, and I come to a screeching halt. “Please. Don’t. I know you’re trying to protect me, but it won’t help.”
“Of course it will, after he’s dead, he won’t hurt you anymore,” she retorts, and I’m not even sure if she’s joking at this point or not. “He needs to be punished.”
“I’m already taking care of him myself,” I reply, hoping she won’t do anything stupid that might get us both in trouble.
“What?” she snaps. “What are you doing?”
“Just … stuff.” I swallow. “Look, I gotta go. I have to be somewhere in a few minutes, and I can’t be late.”
I hang up the phone before she asks what it is exactly that he did. Because I don’t want to talk about it, let alone explain it in great detail, which Ariane always asks about. She’s a sucker for gossip, and all the more when she can embellish with juicy details whenever she talks to her friends.
I’m not dumb. I know how she works. She’s one of the popular girls, the ones who talk shit to get their way. Power doesn’t just come in sheer force—it comes from underhanded gossip and deals too—and she knows all too well how to wield that kind of power.
My phone buzzes with texts that I’m not going to answer. I know who it is, and I know nothing will stop me from what I’m about to do.
I walk into the club in my sky-high black heels and little red dress with slanted shoulder straps and look around. Eagerly waiting girls, gushing over TRIGGER while the curtains are still drawn, fill the space. A bulky man approaches me and asks for my ticket. I hand it to him, and he lets me pass.
I search the bar area until I find what I’m looking for.
“Mel!” I say, and she swivels around on her seat with a beaming smile on her face.
“You’re here!” She sounds so cheerful even though she knows damn well what we’re about to do. “I’m so fucking excited. When do we start?” She grabs my arm and pulls me up to a seat. “Do I still have time to gulp down my drink?” She slurps on her straw.
“Make it quick,” I say with a wink, “’cause we’re starting right now.”
She squeals and sips on her straw until the glass is empty. “Whoa … Dizzy.”
