Page 7 of Savage Salvation

Toying with her, playing with her mind, pissing her off, even touching her might cross a line but even I have my limits. And now I’m wondering what truly goes on in Ryan’s mind that he thinks that would need to be stated. “No one can force her to do anything. You should know that by now.”

His anger flares, aware that she always gets the better of him and will continue to do so. “We’ll see.”

“She’s off-limits to everyone except me.” It’s a blunt, clear warning. And he’d better abide by it.

“Fine. But don’t forget to have my ride detailed before handing it over.” He kicks the chair back, standing and stomping away from the table as Memphis watches, snickering as he motions to Ryan. “He recognizes that he doesn’t stand a chance. Even I know no one can resist the Hawthorne charm.”

She can. And right on cue, her eyes meet mine, still filled to the brim with rage and spite. I think she’s going to break away from my stare, avoid me as she has in every class we’ve had together since my stunt in first period. But apparently, she has some pent-up hostility that she needs to translate to me. Her hand comes up, flipping me the middle finger that I’ve received more than once. The gesture is solely for me and earns a laugh matching Memphis’s as he notes the same clear-cut message I’m seeing across the room. The vixen sending it my way is filled with nothing but deep revulsion for me.

Fuck. This is gonna be fun. Because as hard as Kinsley’s shell is, my determination to have her and keep her is stronger.

5

Kinsley

The door’s bell chimes as I glance up to greet the latest customer entering Savage Serenade Music, only it’s not a customer. It’s the traitor.

“What the hell, Kinsley? Did you walk? I told you I’d give you a ride after school.”

“Yeah, I walked. Figured you’d send Gage to fill in for you since you gave up every seat next to me all day.” Literally. Every single class where Isaac was supposed to sit next to me, he promptly vacated and gave up his desk to Gage, who now sits beside me in five of my seven classes. Because sharing a classroom isn’t torture enough. Now, the jerk is seated at my side. The only consolation, he kept his hands to himself after our eventful time in earth science. Although, I still considered stabbing him a few more times throughout the day.

“I’m sorry, Kins.”

“Okay.” I nod, moving on the stool that’s situated behind the beat-up wooden counter. My eyes immediately drop to the dinged up surface covered by decals from mostly local artists with a few of the classics mixed in. But the sticker that holds my attention is Wicked Riot’s. Isaac takes note and drums his knuckles against it.

“The guys should be here soon. Johnny said we’re good to practice this evening since the show is tomorrow. He just said to keep an eye out for customers.” Isaac points to the practice studio that runs the length of the right side of the store. Large windows line the room, giving a clear view of the entire recording space. Every other wall displays any instrument a customer could want to purchase, and the center is filled with bins of vinyl and one small box of CDs that Johnny claims is ruining the old-school vibe he is aiming for. But if you ask me, the vibe here is perfect. Which is why I spend more time here than anywhere else, even before Johnny hired me.

“Will Gage be taking your seat at the drums too? I know the Sacred Creed god is great at everything, but I’d rather not unknowingly form a band with him.”

“Don’t be like that.” Isaac rubs his hands over his face, and for a second, I feel sorry for him. But not enough to forgive him just yet for feeding me to the lion.

“Just tell me what he said to get you to obey his every command. I’m used to everyone else bowing down to the brute … but not you.” I watch as Isaac’s face morphs into a guilt-stricken expression, but he hesitates on the explanation that I already know won’t make sense.

“I owed him.”

“Owed him for what?”

“It’s a long story. But I really am sorry. I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” I’m usually the cynical one out of our duo, but even I believe there has to be a better solution than bowing down to the royal asshat. What I can’t believe is that Isaac would give into Gage for some simple IOU.

“No. Sometimes there’s not.” Isaac steps away, making his way to the rehearsal studio, flipping on the light switch.

I watch him move around the room, shuffling around a few things before dropping onto what he refers to as his throne behind the drums. Drumsticks already in hand, he begins beating out a rhythm. I don’t have to hear it to know what he’s playing. I recognize the movements, the rhythm playing along in my mind of the third song on the set list. “Paradise City” by Guns N’ Roses. It’s Isaac’s favorite song and his go-to when he wants to play to clear his head.

I stay behind the counter until the last band member—Cruz, the vocalist and rhythm guitarist—arrives. Once I retrieve my guitar from the back storage room (aka my bedroom for the next few nights), I join the guys in the studio. Thankfully, Isaac counts off promptly and doesn’t allow any time for bullshitting because I’m not in the mood for it. Music. That’s all I want.

My eyes instinctively close, my mind concentrating on the notes of an AC/DC song. My left-hand fingers dance over the guitar neck automatically, landing on the correct chords by rote while I strum with my right hand, clutching my favorite pick. Every so often, I open my eyes just long enough to scan the shop for customers. Once I find it empty, my eyes snap closed, and I gladly sink back into the tempo. Cruz is pretty good about letting me know if someone comes in, but I still try to watch since I’m on the clock. But the time flies, and before long, I’m jamming to my favorite song in the lineup (and in general) to play, “Enter Sandman.”

Metallica was a favorite of Mom’s, and she shared her love of music with me. It’s what brought me into Savage in the first place, just as Isaac’s and the other guys’ passion for music brought them here and thankfully led us to each other. Because even if Isaac isn’t exactly my favorite person at the moment, I’m still thankful for how much he (usually) makes life suck less in Radon, Texas.

And speaking of sucking, it’s time to get back to real life. With rehearsal wrapped up, the bullshitting I’d avoided earlier is in full swing as the guys take their usual spots around the store. Cruz comfortably perches on the counter, Isaac on the spare stool that’s kept behind the counter, and Benji sits on the wood bench in front of the wall of violins.

Usually, I appreciate the company, but tonight I’m ready to crash and get some sleep. Or maybe walk to the diner to grab a bite to eat. The emptiness in my stomach reminds me that I didn’t get anything before work because I’d been too busy walking the two miles to the store, since I didn’t want to ride with Isaac after fraternizing with the enemy.

“I’ll be back.” Isaac disappears out of the storefront, and Cruz watches him for a few seconds before looking to me. “What’s up with y’all today?”

“Nothing.”