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Determined to stop thinking about Jason, I dive headfirst into work. DeathMoth are rehearsing again this morning, and bemused customers stand around watching as the group launch into yet another deafening rendition of “Straight Edge” by Minor Threat and “Pay To Cum” by Bad Brains.
I swear, the names of some of those groups… Buzzcocks, anyone?
But the songs are good and angry, fitting my mood, and Dakota’s voice soars over the drums, the guitars and bass, raging against the world.
Fuck you, world, you bastard.
Suddenly, I need fresh air. I shove through the bystanders and make for the door. Outside, the cold stings my face and rasps in my lungs.
No, I won’t wonder if Jason is okay, if he’s freezing out here.
Hell.
I’ve always invested too much of myself in others. In Ocean, of course, my brother who was like a god to me—only to have the ground pulled from under my feet when I thought he’d given up on me. Also in Livvy, my childhood friend—only to have her die on me, and because it was on me.
And now in Jason.
I kick at the wall outside the shop and consider bumming a smoke from a passerby, but I gave up that shit when I came to stay with Ocean three years ago, and I’m not gonna break my streak now. When I came back, I promised myself I’d better myself, be someone who deserves a brother like Ocean, a family… a second chance.
I walk down the sidewalk, trying to work out some of my frustration, and this soul-deep sadness that’s gripped me when I realized Jason and me, we’re not meant to be.
My mistake. I open up too much, give too much of me, and for fucking what? Enough. Fuck this shit. You’d think I’ve learned nothing over the years. Jason is on to something with those thick walls around himself, if that’s what they are. I could learn a thing or two from him on how to keep my distance and lock up my heart.
I wasn’t supposed to want him. And I fought it with all I had. A big fat load of good it’s done me.
Anyway. I give the wall one last kick, shove my hands into my pockets, and head back inside. I’m supposed to be working.
I stop before I reach the door, remembering he now has the key to my apartment. Looking back, I don’t know what possessed me to shove it into the bills I gave him. A moment of madness. He probably threw it into the gutter the moment he saw it. Or didn’t even notice it, and it fell and got lost.
Better that way.
I have to trust that if he found it, he won’t use it to rob me blind. He’s not a thief. He wouldn’t… right?
Then again, I keep thinking I know who Jason Vega is, and I keep falling short of the reality. Simon Gomez is holding something over his head, something bigger than money, and I’ll bet Jason would do anything Simon told him to. If he got him hooked on drugs, then he’s Simon’s puppet.
Except Jason’s sending his people away.
Except he went against orders in that alley, and paid dearly for it.
Except he seemed honest, and I believed him.
I believed many things, and now I don’t know what’s what.
Fuck, I miss him. How do you miss someone you barely know? Someone you fucked and kissed and held, who told you two things about themselves that might as well be lies, and now you want to… To what? Live happily ever after with them?
Ocean was right to think I’m stupid, goddammit.
Lesson learned. It’s over. Whatever that was. I bet it was all in my fucking mind, anyway. Time to move on.
Soul Stain are here, Kade, Sawyer and Mariska—and they’ve added a new artist to their team. His name’s Ethan.
Since it was decided that they’d be staying for a week to work together with the Damage Control and Collateral Damage artists on new techniques, the hotel rooms were canceled, and the Soul Stain artists are staying with Rafe who now has a house and two guest rooms to spare.
Also, Soul Stain didn’t arrive alone from Chicago. They brought a fucking cheerleading team with them. And it’s mostly guys.
The guys are hot, though, so no complaints here. There’s Riot who’s built like a wrestler and has pretty gray eyes and interesting golden tats on his arms. A pity he bats for the other team, as he’s here with his girl, Paxtyn. She’s cute, I suppose, with her chocolate eyes and long black hair falling past her shoulders.
Then there’s Corey who definitely bats for my team, and it’s not his style that gives him away—although the long old-fashioned gabardines he favors and the sideburns are an interesting choice.
