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“Aidrian Casners?” I asked, more alert.
“Yeah…” Crystal frowned, watching me warily. “You say that like you don’t know her.”
“I got a favor to ask her.” I bit my lip. I knew the tight spot Props had placed me in, but…fuck—I needed what he could find for me. So…somehow…I had to befriend this Casners who evidently hated me. What a shocker.
“Matthews, some advice: run,” Crystal said bluntly, stepping back.
I turned and saw Aidrian Casners—or a girl who matched Props’ and everyone else’s description of her. She looked the definition of white trash, but she had attitude. I could tell that. She was grinning up at Tray, almost rubbing her chest against his.
Well, what do you expect? At least she has taste. I wasn’t really one to hold it against her, I’d gone for more than a double-dose of seconds.
Now…here’s the deal. She had a reputation. Amber hated her, so that made me like her. And I felt some camaraderie for her—she wanted Tray. I could relate. And I needed her to help me out with Props. But the girl was going after someone who I wasn’t done with. And I just didn’t like seeing what I was witnessing.
Tray wasn’t exactly pushing her away, but he wasn’t encouraging her either.
I saw her hand snake around his waist and move down. I turned to Crystal and asked, “What does she like? Like, what’s she obsessed with?”
“What?” Crystal asked, perplexed.
“What would she do anything for?”
“Uh,” she thought a moment, “I don’t know. She’s pretty crazed about Third Wave. That’s a—”
I can do that. I was already walking over when I called out, “Casners.”
Aidrian froze. Tray froze. Hell—everyone froze at my voice.
She turned and blinked at me, trying to figure out who I was. After a minute, I saw the recognition in her eyes.
Tray was just watching me, he saw the determination in my eyes.
The rest of the guys moved out of the way.
“So, you’re the little tramp that’s been warming my spot,” she taunted, taking a step towards me.
“Third Wave’s at Pedlam in a week.” They were playing at the Seven8…made things a bit more sticky, but I could work around it.
She looked a little confused. Obviously, she’d been expecting a battle, but I just grinned at her, waiting for her reply.
“So?” she demanded heatedly, but still confused.
“You want tickets?”
“I have tickets.”
“You want front-row tickets?” I sweetened the pot.
“What?”
“I can get you front row seats and back-stage passes,” I delivered, waiting. It was too tempting for her not to bite.
Which she did. I grinned, almost feeling all of the pieces slide into place. Everything was working out.
“You can get me that? Why?”
“You gotta do something for me,” I stated silkily.
She frowned, glancing at Tray underneath her eyelids.
