Page 120 of Punk 57


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“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.

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