Page 36 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

I duck out of sight when he faces in our direction, my heart racing. Flattening my back to the wall, I clasp my throat because my pulse is pounding there. It’s like I have PTSD from the last time I faced him. The day he told me I would never work in the music industry again, and that I would never again be welcome anywhere near L.A. Riot.

Riot had stood there as Carmine sentenced me to a world of pain, stone-faced through it all. He’d chosen her and Carmine. He’d chosen to cast me away. I’d never even had a chance to tell him that I was pregnant. Not that I regret it currently.

“I can’t be here,” I tell Jasper in a mere whisper.

He nods, grasps my elbow and ushers me into another room stacked with supplies. Then he makes a call. “Rook, I’m going to take Kelsey to the bus.”

“Copy,” the head of security’s voice comes through loud and clear.

“Okay, let’s go.” Jasper takes me another way so that we don’t have to cross paths with Carmine or anyone else from Savant Records. A ride in an elevator ends with us in the parking garage where the buses and multiple trucks are waiting for the concert to end and the tour to get on the road.

He leads me onto the first bus, the one all the boys will spend the first night in if tradition is to be relied on. He does the walk from one end to the other, including checking the bathroom and enclosed bedroom. Each bus has one as well as bunks. Sometimes the boys have visitors or family join them on certain legs of a trip. Again, it’s a tradition I expect is still the same. “Make yourself comfortable. The concert is winding down, but we’ll be here for a while still.”

“Great.” I love how tight my asshole gets when I’m in a creepy garage space with almost no one around. Kodiak said there was no sign of someone watching my place when they went to get my things, unless I counted the drunk sleeping on the stoop.

Which I do. I can’t be certain that Marco didn’t track them back to the hotel and from there to the concert. Even though Kodiak and Bronx both assured me that they weren’t followed.

I hug my arms around myself, try to swipe away the chill that shivers over me. I can’t afford to underestimate Marco. And I won’t be comfortable until we’re on the road. Even then I don’t know when I’ll be able to stop looking over my shoulder.

I need to keep busy. I need something to do.

“Where will I be sleeping? Where is my stuff?” If it’s on one of the other buses that’s where I want to be. I need to find out what made it and what didn’t.

“Your things are over here.” He points out one of the condo bunks in bunk alley.

I pull back the privacy curtain and sure enough the sheet from my bed sits in the middle. A stack of books and papers and trinkets are beside it.

I crawl into the lower bunk and sit cross-legged while I pack away my collection of ceramic foxes onto a shelf. Laid on their side, my books fit beside them. My diamond painting kit goes on top of that. My pencil case of markers too.

I pop one in my purse to carry with me. They always come in handy. Keeping one on me at all times became a habit I got used to when I was managing L.A. Riot before... before everything.

Finished with the loose pieces of my life, I fumble with the huge knot keeping the rest of my things together.

It gives and I spread out the corners. There are drawers in the bunk, and I unpack my few clothes into them. I sold a lot when my savings first dwindled to nothing. My collection of shoes too.

My furniture and most of my belongings went up in flames when my old apartment building burned down. All the popsicle decks I’d collected. My longboards. My entire skateboard collection was destroyed.

What I have left of my stuff is precious to me. My favorite pieces of clothing. Some jewelery. Important documents. Memories I couldn’t stand to let go of. All things I had been wearing or grabbed on my way out when the fire alarm went off.

And there’s a few things I’ve collected since then. Mostly thrifted.

I stow my shoes on the shelving under my bunk. Fuck yes. They found my motorcycle boots.

My heart drops at the empty sheet where my things were. My memento box is missing. All of my letters, my photos, ticket stubs, lucky bottle caps, finger skateboards, and many more talismans of things I never wanted to let go of.

My eyes sting. I cover my mouth with my hand and pinch my nose to keep my emotions private from Jasper who is still in the front lounge. I’m not ready to let go, not like this.

“We’re on the move.”

I don’t expect Rook’s voice on the bus, which is probably why it startles me out of my thoughts.

“Copy,” Jasper says.

“And the package?” Rook asks.

“Where Riot told me to put her,” Jasper tells him, and that’s when I realize he’s talking about me. But Riot wants me on his bus? That’s unexpected. Considering his threat to me and the bruises on my throat, near him is the last place I want to be. Shouldn’t that be mutual? Unless he figures the quickest way to run me out of here is to keep me close enough to make this trip a living hell.

Ha! Fat chance. As if he could do anything to me that would hurt near as much as the pain he already caused.