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Eliot ducked his head while Jag’s ears turned a reddish brown.
“I was a drummer for Toad Panic,” Moe said. “I mooned a witch from our tour bus, and now my butt is the only drum I can play. I’m good at it, though, right?”
I appreciated his confidence. Dude had no shame about playing ass cheeks in a band.
“The drums were like a heartbeat when cuddling.” I cringed. I couldn’t believe I just said something so fucking gooey, like a four-cheese pizza coming out of my mouth here.
I bet those giant musical cocks would be good going into our mouth,my brain said.
Moe placed a hand on his chest. “Thank you.” His voice was sincere and soft.
If I was embarrassingly cheesy, at least I didn’t bruise his heart this time.
“What about you, Jag and Elliot? Did you whip it out at a witch?”
Elliot mumbled something that I didn’t catch, then crouched to pet Beverly as though to change the subject. The beaver yawned, showing off her big orange teeth.
I shot Jag a questioning look. He frowned and shrugged. “I made a bad deal.” He didn’t elaborate, and I figured I’d let it go for now. I had done plenty of shit I didn’t want to talk about either.
Besides, I had a bigger problem related to these three. Mainly, that Ram was fucking right.
They shouldn’t be in prison.
The law in Albany might look down on public nudity and giant cocks, but these three were in a prison surrounded by public nudity and giant cocks. It wasn’t fair. They weren’t hardened criminals or dangerous. They hadn’t even shown off their dickstruments and ass drums on purpose. Some shart had outed them by throwing crap at the stage.
Despite Jag acting tough, all three of them were as harmless as Beverly. They had been cast out and punished for doing the best they could with what they had. And they had hurt no one in the process.
Fuck, that was dangerously close to how my parents and teachers had treated me when I was a kid with dark magic. Ram knew what he was doing when he had sent these guys my way.
I chewed on my thumbnail. If I busted them out, I’d be consigning them to a life on the run unless they moved to Free Jinx—assuming it existed still. Jag, Elliot, and Moe were perfect examples of why I had found my community outside the rest of the world. Society was just not safe for the misfit magic users.
Of course, building my home for outcasts in a bubble dimension might have killed everyone living there. If someone had stolen the Astrosmos, the bubble dimension would have collapsed and taken everyone with it.
“Alyssa?” Jag said softly.
I stopped chewing my nail. “Why do you want to break out? Public indecency is a minor crime. With good behavior, you three will be out on parole in months. But if you escape, you’ll be on the run for the rest of your lives.”
“We would be, anyway,” Jag said, his voice cold. “The moment we perform, they’ll try to arrest us again. The world already decided we’re criminals because of our abilities.”
I had an urge to hug Jag. Gross. He wasn’t a puppy or even a beaver.
“We’re not performing again,” Elliot whispered.
Jag crossed his arms. “We have rare talents and we’re not hiding them!”
“You play beautifully,” I added, but Elliot just looked away. I eyed him. “Do you three want to spend the rest of your lives on the run?”
Jag nodded once, while Moe nodded a dozen times. “I want to keep playing my drums!”
Elliot still avoided my gaze. “I need to get out of here.”
I sighed. “All right, but there’s no turning back now. We’re breaking out tonight.”
Chapter 11
“Comeon,Juniper,pickup,” I whispered in the dark of my cell. The cell phone against my ear rang and rang before going to voicemail.
Shit, where are you?She was probably in a fucking orgy for the past ten hours that I’d been texting and calling.
