Hard Rock Roots Box Set (92 page)

“Ever wondered why I asked you to stay away from Indecency?” America asks with another parched laugh, directing her question at Naomi. “Did you ever pick up on that? Though I can't blame you for this. I wanted you guys on tour with them, made it my life's fucking work. I can't seem to stay away. Even though Travis is gone, I can't separate myself from his memory.” She sniffles again, but it doesn't sound like a fresh cry. That there is a call to arms, a gathering of the spirit, a last hurrah to the pain. I turn my face and watch America gather herself together, kicking off her slippers, letting her face fall back into that self-assured arrogance that I recognize so well. “And now people are dying for it, for me. Remember how I said I thought I was supposed to die on the tour bus? Lola's right – that wasn't their mission at all. I'm not supposed to die; I'm supposed to suffer. To suffer as long and deep as possible. And you're all coming with me, strapped into a plane set to crash. For that, I'm truly sorry.” America slicks her hair back with her good hand and straightens her shoulders, moving her gaze from Naomi's to mine. I wrinkle my lip at her. “But the reason we're not all locked in some basement torture chamber somewhere is because I have resources of my own.” Behind me, I hear the sound of the bald bodyguard standing up. America hears him, too, and nods her head at me, acknowledging the man and his quiet presence with trust and authority. “And I'm about to call in a favor. Stephen's just getting started. If we're not careful, this situation, believe it or not, actually has the capability of getting worse. Much, much worse. We're almost lucky he's such a maniacal sociopath.” She gives us a crocodile grin, one that's as fake as the flowers in the center of this ugly ass table.

“I just … fuck.” That's all Naomi has to say. Me, I recognize the glint in America's steel blue eyes. It's a flicker of fight, and I'm definitely in for one.

“Lock and load?” I ask as I hear footsteps creaking across the floorboards upstairs. A minute later, I can hear Hayden Lee humming as she descends the staircase. America glances over to her left, like she can see straight through the cabinets and into the heart of her leading lady. When the bitch finally comes into the kitchen and sees us all, she smiles.

“What did I miss?” she asks, innocent as sin, wicked intention wrapped up in a skinny body and tiny tits. Hayden tucks some hair behind her ear and acts like she's not wearing a lace nightgown that shows off her flat ass cheeks.

“We're discussing battle plans,” America says with another smile, one that puts a chill in my blood. For a second there, I almost feel sorry for this stupid fuck, this Stephen Hammergren.

Almost.

“I can't even fucking wrap my mind around this,” Naomi says from her perch on the edge of Dax's bed. I try not to be jealous that he's sitting close enough to touch. Their thighs are like
this
fucking close. I grit my teeth and try to think about something else. Not that it's hard, man. Take your frigging pick. There's a whole shit storm raining down around us. Grab a turd, any turd. They all smell like crap. “So I'm guessing this is pretty rough on you guys.” Naomi takes a deep breath and curls her fingers into the fabric of the ugly ass comforter, black painted nails digging into the fabric like knives. “I'm so fucking sorry you have to go through this.”

I look down at Ronnie who's sitting frozen in this brown tweed chair, face like ice, clear and cold. I can see right through him, straight down into his soul. Even though I'm still a little skeptical of this Lola chick, I can thank the Gods of Rock for her right then. Without that spark of hope flaming bright in his chest, I don't know that Ronnie McGuire would be getting through this all without a knife to the throat. I've always worried he'd commit suicide one day. This clusterfuck coulda been the clincher, man.

“Not your fault, Naomi,” he says, but the words are barely there, as clear and temporary as the cigarette smoke in the air. Never did find a joint. Guess that's a good thing? “Nobody's fault but this guy's … this Stephen fuck.” And then Ronnie grits his teeth and squeezes his hands so hard that the muscles in his arms bulge and tense, veins popping, tattoos sliding over all of that rock hard fuck-you-up strength. Ronnie might've lived the last decade in a drunken, wasted stupor but he has drummer arms. Ain't no little drummer boy like Dax. My friend knows how to fuck a kit so hard it'll show up the next day pregnant. In the blink of an eye, he's up and grabbing the small table next to his chair. The vase of fake flowers topples to the floor as he swings it hard as he can against the wall.

“Fucking Christ, man!” I shout as splinters rain down around us, showering the room in rough wood and hardware. “Jesus.”

Ronnie moves over to the wall and puts his hand on it, sliding the other down his face as he pants, back rising and falling with harsh breaths.

“I can't even believe this shit. I can't even … How do I tell my kids that their mothers are dead because some guy couldn't handle letting go? Because that's what this is all about, really. Some jealous prima donna BITCH is trying to take everything from us. Everything. Me, you, Trey, Naomi. Look at Lola! He's already stripped her of her morals and her humanity, and now he's got her sister. How the fuck? How the friggin' fuck cock sucking bitch son of a WHORE does something like this happen?”

“It's definitely gotten out of control,” Naomi says, shaking her head, blonde hair falling over her face. When she sweeps it back, my heart skips a beat. I drag my eyes away from her and stay focused on Ronnie. If he hadn't just raped the shit out of some furniture, I'd be congratulating him for getting in touch with his emotions. He's been dead cold for so long. “And I thought this all had to do with Eric and Katie.” She laughs, but the sound is far from pleasant. “All that really happened was that this guy dug into my past and raised their asses like the undead. This is unbelievable. Unbe-fucking-lievable.”

“This is more than that,” Ronnie says, and I can tell that if this Hammergren bitch was in the room, that Ronnie's shirt would be coming off. He wouldn't even wait around long enough to find out why. That guy would be dead in a pulpy mass on the floor before you could say dickwad. “This is the evilest fucking shit I've ever heard of in my life. The web is just massive,
huge.
There are threads connecting everyone and everything we care about, tying it all back to this gargantuan conspiracy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a load of horse shit.” Ronnie turns around and leans against the wall for support. He's sweating like crazy, soaking his shirt and sticking it to his chest. At least it gives me a good look at him. He's gained a lot of weight lately – which is a good thing. Guess I'll have to stop making Stick Skinny Ronnie jokes.

“But it doesn't change anything,” I say, digging out a crumpled stick of gum from my pocket and tossing the silver wrapper to the floor. I need to develop new habits, something to keep my mind off the smack and the booze and the wild pussy. Eh. Maybe not that last one. Naomi's more than enough to keep my dick occupied. I get hard even thinking about her, and when I whack it, I can only come when I imagine her enveloping me, taking over, consuming my soul from the inside out. Fucking romantic, huh?

“Fuck it doesn't,” Ronnie snaps at me, biting down on his lip,
hard.
“This changes everything.”

“And how's that? Huh? We still have to kick this fucker's ass, make sure we come out on top of this Goddamn clusterfuck. Travis is still dead, and he's been gone for a long time. All I know is that vengeance is due, and I'm getting ready to collect on the fucking late fees. We can't let this trip us up. We have to push forward and take steps to climb out of this crap. Otherwise, we're all going to be pushing up daisies.”

“We have to tell everyone,” Naomi says, bringing up our conversation from before. “One by one, we have to test the waters and start spilling it. Otherwise, we won't know if anything's happening to anyone else.” We both look at Dax. Ronnie keeps staring straight ahead, letting those blue devils cluster around him and stab him with icy pitch forks of pity and self-loathing. I know exactly what he's thinking because I'm thinking the same things.
How could I not have known? Is there something I could've done? Anything that would've prevented this?
But unlike Ronnie, I have confidence enough in myself to know that there's no way we could've uncovered Travis' secret. If he wanted something kept hidden, it'd stay buried. We didn't even know his parents were getting a divorce until we all went over to his house and accidentally walked in to find his mom screwing her boss on the family sofa. Secrets. Fucking hate secrets. “Has anything … I don't know,
weird
happened to you yet? Any new items show up randomly? How about plastic doll heads? Dead people's hats?” I cringe at the last one and look over at Ronnie, but he's still not listening.

“You mean other than nearly getting killed by that tornado? Everything's been fine.” Dax pauses and scratches at a cut in his eyebrow. I wonder if he knows his roots are showing, that there's some blonde growing out of his scalp, obscuring the perfect darkness of his hair. I try not to smirk at that. “Did you ever ask Lola what was supposed to happen to the rest of us?”

“She doesn't know,” Ronnie says absently, pushing himself forward with a groan. “Unfortunately, most of the plans this mouse of a man has laid are kept well hidden. If you have any family out there, you'd better give 'em a heads up.” Ronnie moves over to his suitcase and kicks it open, fishing out some plastic bags from a hidden pocket on the lid. Most of them are filled with drugs, pills, pot, needles, whatever. He tosses them all aside and keeps digging.

“Just my dad,” Dax says, exchanging a look with Naomi that I don't like. She smiles at him, and my skin crawls.
Emo bitch, you stay away from my woman.
“And he doesn't like me anyway. If this guy was going to come after me, that wouldn't be his first choice I don't think. If he was picking a target … ” Dax trails off and moves his hand towards Naomi's, laying gentle fingers on her knuckles. I do my best not to foam at the fucking mouth and tear his nuts off. I force my gaze away and stare at the carpet.

“Yeah, well, nobody's gettin' near Naomi again. Ain't gonna happen. I won't let it.” I spit at the floor and sniff, smacking my gum and leaning up against the door. Of course, I can't help but think of Trey and how useful my protection would be if that same sort of thing were to happen to Naomi.
Step one, avoid tall ass buildings.
“Fucker's going to have to try a little harder next time.”

“I'd rather not test him,” Naomi says, stone faced and serious. “Obviously he's capable of a lot. Too much. No need to bait him. Let's just make our rounds in pairs. You guys talk to Jesse and Josh; Dax and I will take care of Kash, Wren, and Blair.
Nobody
talk to Hayden.” She glances over at Dax. He looks right back at her, pleading with his gray eyes.

“She's not a monster,” Dax says, still somehow able to defend that fucking whore. If it wasn't such a freaking impossibility, I'd say he had some hardcore feelings for her. I guess he's just an empathetic schmuck or some shit. “You said Lola told you she joined in Denver? Did she tell you why?”

“Who gives a fuck?” I snap at him, moving forward aggressively. Naomi gives me a look that manages to stop me mid-stride.
Say goodbye to your manhood, Turner Campbell.
I huff and slam my shoulder against the wall, leaning into it. It's a lot easier than trying to stand straight with a bunch of crap crusted onto your shoulders. “She's a traitor and a bitch.”
Who's been blackmailing Naomi for years. Wonder what old Dax would have to say about that if he knew. Could he still love Naomi like I do if he'd seen the video?

“It all has to do with that picture. Hayden's weak. I'm not going to lie about that. But weakness isn't a crime.”

“It is when you let it control you, pit you against the people in your life you're supposed to be standing behind. In my book, she's just as guilty as any of the rest of them.” I look him straight in the face when I say this, watch his reaction. He doesn't budge, doesn't flinch. He's going to stand behind this chick, rest of the world be damned. I'm almost glad; Naomi doesn't look too happy about his vehement defense of the enemy.

“Hayden
is
a monster, Dax. I'm not afraid to give it to you straight. For me, she's beyond redemption.” I smirk at Naomi's words, at the set of her jaw, the stiffness of her shoulders.

“She's afraid. Whatever that picture represents, she won't say, but the truth is this: she
was
kidnapped, just like you. That night, she was going to meet someone that was blackmailing her about it. She was taken captive and tied up. Naomi, she was raped.”

“How do you know that?” Naomi asks, eyes narrowed. Ronnie's stopped digging through his suitcase and is watching the two of them, absorbing the details of the conversation. Soon as we get a moment alone, I can ask him about it and find out if he thinks Dax is telling the truth. Or if Hayden was.

“Because she told me. Last night. After you beat the crap out of her.”