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He softly smiles, tugging on a strand of my hair. “If you’ll come here around Sunday evening, I’ll try to explain this better.” He peers around the area. “But I can’t talk about it out in the open. And I need to talk to my friends first.”
Every instinct I possess is telling me to decline his offer and just go home, but again, Benton gives me a pleading look and I find myself nodding.
I must be a suc
ker for that look.
His smile is close to being genuine as he backs away toward his house. “Thanks, Zhara. And I apologize in advance for what we’re going to ask you to do.”
Warning flags go up everywhere, but Benton spins around before I can ask any more questions. Sighing, I head down the sidewalk, walking close to the carport to stay in the shade. Summers can be so hot in Honeyton and since it's mid-June, the temperature has got to be at least one hundred degrees.
But my thoughts drift from the scorching heat, though, as I replay what happened today. I actually went to a party, got kissed, and got called Benton’s girlfriend. Now apparently, I’m going to be asked for a favor from the Bad Boy Rebels.
“Holy crap,” I whisper as I reach the curb of the parking lot. “This has been the strangest night ever.”
It makes me wonder—and I’m extremely nervous—what tomorrow will hold.
Benton
“You did what?” My friend Xavier exclaims to me over the phone after I finish explaining to him what happened in the parking lot with Zhara. “Are you fucking stupid?”
“I panicked,” I tell him as I pace my small bedroom. After I returned to my house, I kicked everyone out so I could call my friends and tell them what happened. Besides, it’s not like I actually like having the parties. It’s a disguise, part of my fake lifestyle, part of all of this. “Tank and Ralpho showed up and were asking me all of these questions. And then they brought up the girlfriend Jackson told them about.”
“You know, I really wish he wouldn’t have done that,” Xavier grimaces. “I don’t know what the hell he was thinking.”
“He was drunk and trying to impress them,” I say. “I just didn’t think they’d be so persistent about finding out if he was telling the truth or not.”
“We could always try to tell them the truth,” Xavier says. “It might be better than actually trying to convince Zhara to do this.”
“At this point, we can’t do that,” I tell him. “We need Tank and Ralpho to trust us if we’re ever going to solve this goddamn case, which I really want to do because I’m getting fucking tired of it… We’ve been working on it for almost six months.”
“Yeah, I know, since we all turned eighteen and finally got promoted out of that stupid mundane teenager undercover work.” He pauses, as if reminiscing. “But are you sure there isn’t another way? One where we don’t have to ask Zhara…” He says her name with disdain. “To pretend to be all of our girlfriends for a few weeks?”
I sink down on my bed as memories of kissing her creep up into mind… The way she tasted… the way she shook… He may sound unhappy about this, but I’m not so sure I am. That kiss… It made me feel something. And I don’t feel anything too often.
“Not one I want to try,” I say. “But, she might be able to help us.”
“How?”
“Well, Tank and Ralpho asked to talk to her privately.”
“And how’s that supposed to help?”
“Because if she can impress them during this talk, we might be able to get her on the inside, be our eyes and ears in the inner circle. She could maybe even find out where the underground tunnels are and how they’re getting the drugs past security checks.”
“That sounds risky, though,” Xavier tells me. “Do you even think she’ll go for it?”
“I guess we’ll find out Sunday,” I say. My tone is casual, but on the inside I’m nervous.
If she says no, the case could be ruined. If she says yes, then her life could be at risk. I don’t know how I feel about that, but I can’t see any other choice. You don’t lie to drug lords like Tank and Ralpho and they’re not even the highest guys up.
I just hope everything works out and no one gets hurt. And that whatever I was feeling when I kissed Zhara doesn’t get in the way.
Discovering Zhara: Meeting the Bad Boy Rebels
(Bad Boy Rebels, #2)
By Jessica Sorensen
Discovering Zhara: Meeting the Bad Boy Rebels
Jessica Sorensen
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2017 by Jessica Sorensen
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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For information: jessicasorensen.com
Cover design by Mae I Design
Created with Vellum
Insomnia
Somehow, over the course of one day, I’ve become an insomniac. Usually, I get to bed at a decent hour. Not to get my beauty rest, but because getting eight hours of sleep is what good girls do. At least, that’s what my mom told me once, when I had stayed up until two o’clock in the morning, just to see what it was like to stay up late on a school night.
“Zhara, you need to get to bed,” she said when she caught me lounging in the living room, watching a late night talk show. She blinked at the television screen, where a woman in her early twenties was yelling at her mom for sleeping with her husband. “What on earth are you watching?”
I shrugged, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head. “I don’t know, but it’s actually pretty entertaining.”
“No, it’s not. It’s trash.” She shook her head, scooped up the remote, and clicked off the television. “You have tests in the morning. You should’ve been in bed over four hours ago.” She glanced at the clock. “Dammit, Zhara, you’re barely going to get four hours of sleep.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, lowering my feet to the floor. “And I only have one test and it’s in English.” I stood up, yawning. “I could ace English in my sleep.”
“You say that now, but we’ll see tomorrow.” She pointed to the stairway. “Now get to bed. And please, don’t ever stay up this late again. You’re lucky Alexis didn’t see you. I finally got her back on a normal sleeping scheduled. If she sees you up this late, she’ll think it’s okay to go back to her old ways.” She shook her head as I trudged by her. “You’re supposed to be setting an example for your brothers and sisters.”
“I just stayed up late,” I muttered. “It’s not like I was out partying and getting drunk.”
“No, but breaking curfew can be the starting point to getting into more trouble. Trust me, I’ve been through this with Loki and Jessamine.” She followed me toward the stairs, her tone softening. “I know you think I’m being hard on you, but I only do it because you’ve always been such a good girl, and I don’t want you getting on the wrong track.”
I remember wondering how on earth she thought staying up late to watch trashy television could lead to me ending up on the wrong track? It was just a few less hours of sleep for crying out loud. And it’s not like I was out doing drugs or participating in teenage mischief. Still, her disapproval made me never stay up late ever again. Until tonight. Tonight, I’m awake well into the late hours of the night. Or the early hours of the morning, depending on how you look at it. But I can’t sleep. Not when I’m supposed to meet Benton in less than twenty-four hours to find out what sort of favor the Bad Boy Rebels want from me. I can’t even wrap my mind around what they could possibly want.
Maybe this is all some sort of prank or practical joke. Perhaps tomorrow when I show up at Benton’s apartment, him and a bunch of his friends will be there, waiting to laugh at me for believing that they’d want anything to do with Goody Two Shoes Zhara.
Frowning at the thought, my mind wanders to Benton kissing me. Could that have been part of the prank too?
Does Benton even like me? It’s not like he’s called me. Then again, why would he? It’s not like he has my phone number. And it’s not like he has a reason to get it.
“Gah.” I drag my fingers through my tangled, messy hair as I lie in bed, staring up at my ceiling. “What is wrong with me? When did I become so obsessed with guys and kisses? This isn’t like me. I’m supposed to be focusing on school and getting a summer job. I need to focus.” Sucking in a deep breath, I shut my eyes and try to go to sleep. I slept fine last night after coming home from the party. I should be able to sleep now.
But after several minutes of listening to my own breathing and the creaking of the house, my thoughts are still racing over what’s going to happen tonight. Giving up, I throw the blankets off me and climb out of bed. Then I tug a hoodie over my tank top, slip some fuzzy boots on, and pad down the stairs to turn off the house alarm. After I punch in the four digit code, I slip out the back door and onto the patio. The night air is warm, and I instantly regret putting on the hoodie, but make no move to take it off as I sink down into a chair and kick my feet up on the railing. I stare up at the stars and the moon, wondering if my parents are up there, looking down on me. It’s something I’ve wondered before, but I don’t know what to believe. Never really have. I’d like to think, though, that perhaps my parents’ souls morphed into stars and flew up to the sky where they can constantly shine down on me and my brothers and sisters. It’s a beautiful and peaceful thought—
A tiny, red dot suddenly shines through a hole in the wooden fence that separates my backyard from the neighbor’s.
“What on earth?” I mutter as I lower my feet to the ground, my pulse quickening.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the light belonged to a gun scope.
A gun scope, Zhara? In Honeyton? And in the backyard of the Marellies’, the sweet, old couple that can barely get into their car?
I rub the palm of my hand across my forehead. “This insomnia thing is messing with my brain.”
