Page 66 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

“No, I really don’t. If I did, I would hand it over. You look like you could use it more than me.” I touch Rook’s shoulder. “Do you have any?”

Rook glances sideways at me. Probably isn’t sure what to make of my desire to give this would-be-mugger money.

“Sometimes people just need us to be kind. I’ve been in bad spots myself. Having someone help me out is the only thing saving my ass right now. I’m sure I can get the money from Bronx to pay you back.” And then I’ll pay Bronx back from what he gives me at the end of the tour.

Rook pulls out his wallet and takes all the money out of it. “I’ve got a couple hundred. That do?”

I take the money and walk toward the man.

“Don’t try anything,” Rook warns him.

I’m shaking as I hand the money over. I could be wrong. I’m hoping I’m not. This situation could still turn violent. But sometimes we make stupid decisions when we’re desperate that we might not make given a choice.

Like not paying attention to my surroundings the day I was pushed. If I’d been alert, I could have saved myself from the pain and the heartbreak that followed. I could have done something to protect my baby.

“Thank you,” he says. “This is going to feed my family.”

I clasp his hand between mine. “Promise me you’ll exhaust every other option before you do this again.”

He nods and then ducks past me and Rook before running out of the alley.

“You look like you were expecting someone else,” Rook says when we get back onto the main thoroughfare. “Care to fill me in on the who and why?”

Hugging myself, I grimace. “I saw something I shouldn’t have seen. Committed by someone I wish I’d never met. I thought it might have been him.”

“Got it. You expect this person to come after you?” His jaw tightens as he continues to be alert to our surroundings.

“Yeah.”

“Who knows?”

“Bronx is aware of some of it.” I cast my gaze to the ground, feeling sick to my stomach. There is a lot I don’t want anyone to ever find out.

“And you didn’t take it to the cops?”

“He has connections.” I could go, but it’s my word against his, and the cops didn’t believe me the last time.

“I’m going to have to tell the rest of my team,” he says.

“I know.” Because as long as Marco is out there, I’m not safe and neither is anyone around me. “Let me tell the guys? It should come from me.”

“Of course,” he says.

We fall into wary silence until we get back to where the guys have finished up with their photo shoot. We all climb into the car.

Kodiak sits up front. Riot slides into the middle row. Avoiding Riot, I get into the back seat with Golden. And Bronx takes the vacant space next to Riot.

“How are you doing, Special K?” Golden offers me a gentle smile as he stretches one arm along the back of the seat. He’s taken off his hoodie, and it’s crumpled on top of his pack on the floor. His headphones are around his neck.

“Fine. How was the rest of the shoot?” Dropping down next to him, I play with the split ends of my fishtail braid. How do I hide while traveling with the world’s most popular rock band? I can’t.

“You know how these things are.” He curls his hand around my shoulder. His thumb works a knot that’s built there.

“Yeah.” I’ve been to enough of them, though I’ve never been on their side of the camera. But I’ve watched them brand themselves visually and consistently over the years. I’ve even seen a few minimal reinventions.

Maybe I can make it harder to spot me. Change it all up, my hair, my look. Like Riot’s sister-in-law, Dizzy. She hid for years from some monstrous men by turning herself into a bubble gum caricature of herself. “I’m going to dye my hair.”

“That’s coming out of left field.” He squeezes the back of my neck as he tips his head closer to mine.