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“They shut down Statesburg,” she said. “You know, that big prison not too far from here. There was some big, insider scandal about the last warden and some current and past inmates. I guess it was bad enough that they’re closing the entire place, and apparently there’s not enough room in the surrounding jails to house all their inmates, so they’re just...letting some of them go.”
“What?” I spun to gape at the news too.
“I know, right? Everyone who’s up for release or parole this year, is pretty much getting out. That’s like fifty new felons out on the streets with us. What kind of shit is that?”
“Scary,” I murmured, watching the screen as the newsman’s camera panned the outside of the state prison where the gates were opening to let out the last busload to convicts they were going to farm out to other prisons. “When did this happen??
??
“It’s been going on for a couple weeks apparently. But the news just caught wind of it.”
“Statesburg’s like what, only twenty miles from here, isn’t it?”
“However far it is, it’s way too close.” Jodi shivered and hugged herself. “I’m investing in a fucking Taser.” Then she glanced at me and sniffed as she took in my mask. “And if I were you, I’d stay in that form for a while. If there were any rapists in the release, you’re far safer as a guy right now.”
I rolled my eyes, but the mention of my mask reminded me...
Sticks.
The band.
Asher and his song.
“Hey.” I sat beside her and tried to act causal. “Do you remember the night we went to Forbidden months ago and sang karaoke?”
“Sure.” Her attention returned to the television as she chewed on a fingernail. “We sang ‘All About That Bass,’ right?”
“Yeah.” That part I remembered. And it’s exactly what the girl in Asher’s song had sung...with her redheaded friend...aka, Jodi...maybe. “Was I still with Fisher then?”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Yes. The douchebag told me my voice sounded like two alley cats fucking.”
“What a dick.” I wrinkled my nose, though yes, sadly, that sounded exactly like something Fisher might’ve said. But all issues with him were over and done. Now...I was too focused on Asher to think about Fisher. “Do you remember what I was wearing?”
“It doesn’t really matter.” She rolled her eyes. “You never wear anything exciting when we go clubbing. Just those stupid T-shirts you get from concerts.”
“I know.” I chewed on my lip and returned my gaze to the song, rereading the line about the pretty little Latino girl in the Incubus T-shirt who’d rocked Asher Hart’s world.
The news must’ve moved on to different, less interesting topics because Jodi suddenly focused on me. “What’s with all the questions, anyway? And what is that?”
She took the piece of paper from me, and I explained as she began to read it.
After I told her everything and she skimmed over the song again, her mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, Remy. This is us. Asher Hart wrote a song about us.” Her wide-eyed gaze landed on me. “About you.”
I swallowed. “Yeah...it does appear that way, doesn’t it?”
“What do you mean, appear that way? Puta, this is...us.”
Shaking my head, I had to deny it. It was just too...much. Way too much. “It might not be.”
“Oh, trust me. It is.”
“Jodi,” I whined. “It can’t be. What the hell would I do if this ended up being about me? I actually like him.”
“Then you tell him immediately and get yourself a ticket to the finest seat on the Asher Hart express, because wow... He wrote you a fucking song, puta. Fuck the boy’s brains out in gratitude.”
Ugh, of course she wouldn’t understand.
“Are you crazy? I totally can’t do that. I’m his bandmate now. He thinks I’m a guy. Dios mío, if he found out who I really am, he’d think the same thing Ten thought, that I knew about the song all along and this was just some fucked-up attempt to trick my way into getting close to him. Oh...fuck...me.” I set my hand against my forehead, the latex of my mask surprising me, because I’d forgotten I was still wearing it. “What am I going to do, Jodi?”
