Wicked Reunion (Wicked White Series Book 2) (8 page)

“Thank you.” I place my hand on his forearm. “I promise that I will,” I tell him before I turn and head out the door, on a mission to find Jared before he does something crazy.

THEN

JARED

I
’ve been sitting at this intersection for what feels like hours. It’s not busy, so I’ve sat here behind the wheel of my truck watching the traffic lights go through three rotations as I try to figure out where to go. It wasn’t like I had an exact plan when I stormed out of my house, but I couldn’t take being there for one more second. The walls were closing in around me, and I wasn’t ready to hear any more details about my father being gone.

The last word echoes around in my brain: gone. That word can be used in so many contexts. Some are positive, like every cookie we brought for the bake sale is gone, while others are so bitter and vile that no one wants to hear them. My father is gone, as in forever, as in he’s never coming back, and I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do with that information.

There will be no more Sunday phone calls from Dad—no more working on the car together to get it running top notch. No more jamming on the guitar together. No more . . . Everything has changed. Everything is different.

I stare at the red light in front of me on display, mocking me by putting my life on hold. When it turns green again, I still haven’t made up my mind where I’m going, but an angry horn blaring behind me tells me that my time just sitting here is over.

I crank the wheel to the right and mash the gas. It doesn’t take long before I find myself in the shady part of Knoxville. I don’t venture around here much, and soon I discover that I’m lost and have no clue where to go from here. I glance down at my gas gauge and notice that it’s on empty, but luckily for me the bright lights of a station illuminate the night sky.

The tires roll over the pavement, bouncing me inside the cab as I come to a stop beside a gas pump. When I open the door, I fish my wallet from my back pocket and head toward the store to pay.

On the way in, my gaze meets the brown eyes of a tall, skinny white guy with a beanie and red flannel shirt hanging out just outside the door. The clothing choice strikes me as odd, considering it’s May in Tennessee, which doesn’t exactly call for dressing warm. He twitches his nose before wrinkling it, and I catch a glimpse of his toothless smile. That takes me aback because the guy can’t be much older than I am, yet the roughness of his appearance gives off the impression that he’s much older.

When he catches me staring, he tilts his head and lifts his eyebrows as if to silently ask me what I want. Instead, I jerk my gaze away and shove through the heavy glass door. After prepaying for the gas, I return to my truck and take another long look in the man’s direction before I head back to fill my tank.

Bugs swarm the buzzing lights overhead as I set the nozzle on automatic fill and then grip the side of the truck bed and lower my head onto my arms. I sigh and wish there was some way to escape and forget about everything for a while.

My gaze snaps back up, and again I zero in on the man standing next to the building. Without really thinking about what I’m doing, I head toward the guy and leave my truck there to fill up.

When I step up in front of him, I shove my hands into my pockets. “Um, do you . . .”

Shit. I’m not even sure how to ask this.

“You lookin’ to get high, homey?” His voice is deeper than I expected, and it catches me off guard.

I furrow my brow, unsure of what to say.

“You need something or not? I’ve got the best shit. It’ll take you to a new high, man—shit so good it will make you forget your own fucking name.” He rubs the tip of his nose with his index finger.

While I’ve never done drugs before—always on the straight and narrow because I love baseball so much—I have to admit that losing my mind for a bit sounds pretty damn perfect right now. Against my better judgment, I decide to see what he has to offer.

I nod. “Yeah, what do you have?”

The skinny man wearing a red flannel shirt smiles. “Shit, homey, I got whatever you want.”

My thoughts drift over every movie I’ve ever seen, searching for the right terms to use, and I come up with only one way to ask for pot without seeming clueless. “Do you have a dime bag?”

He nods. “Not here, though.” He points his finger in the air and then does a circle motion. “There’s eyes all around. Meet me around back after you get your gas.”

My pulse races under my skin, and I know how wrong this is and what it will cost me if I get caught, but I need to do this. At least with the rush of danger, I’m avoiding the real problem at hand.

The guy steps back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You know where I’ll be.”

“Sounds good.” It’s the only reply I can think of at the moment.

I swallow deeply, and a click alerts me to the fact that my truck is now full. I run across the empty lot and remove the nozzle, pull a fifty from my wallet, and hop into my truck. Just like he said, the guy is waiting around back, and the minute I’m close enough, he approaches.

I roll down the window and hold out the cash. “Change?”

The guy shakes his head. “I don’t do change, but I’ll throw in a rock.”

“Fine.” I should refuse it—crack is way above my speed level when it comes to this shit, but this isn’t exactly like buying something from a store where they have change readily on hand. It’s not like I’ll use it. Besides, I’m already nervous enough, so spending any longer out here than I have to isn’t a bright idea.

He rips the money from my hand and then shoves a couple baggies into it. “If you need more—”

Red-and-blue flashing lights accompanied by the distinct chirp of a police siren cause the guy to take off. A police cruiser skids to a stop and both doors fly open. One cop in a black uniform goes by the passenger side of my truck like a blur, hot on the guy’s heels, while the other cop from the car approaches my truck with his gun drawn.

Oh, shit!

This cannot be fucking happening to me right now.

“Place both hands outside the truck and slowly open the door using the outside handle,” the policeman orders.

The urge to duck out of this truck and run is overwhelming, but I know trying something stupid like that will only cause things to get a whole lot worse.

“All right!” I yell back as I do as he orders—both of my hands shaking uncontrollably when I stick them outside the window. “Don’t shoot!”

The second my door opens, I step out. The bright headlights from the cop car shine directly into my eyes, and I use my hands to shield them. I feel like I’m on a really bad episode of
Cops
. I’ve always heard the saying “wrong place at the wrong time,” and, shit, it’s never been truer than right now.

“Keep your hands up!” he screams as he rushes over to me and grabs me by the shirt collar, shoving me down to the ground, face-first, not giving me a chance to plead my case at all.

The wind whooshes from my lungs, and the man immediately jumps on my back and shoves his knee against my spine to hold me in place. “Jesus. Do you have to be so rough? I’m fucking cooperating.”

Mouthing off probably isn’t a good idea, but I couldn’t just allow him to treat me like a common criminal and not at least attempt to stand up for myself.

“Shut up!” he orders as he grabs my arms and jerks them behind my back before cuffing them together. The cop begins patting me down. “Do you have any knives, weapons, or needles that can poke me?”

“No, man. Nothing,” I say as the taste of dirt from the ground slips into my mouth from where I’m lying, cheek down.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks after he searches me and finds nothing, but I remain quiet, not wanting to say anything that will get me into any more trouble. “Answer me!”

“Nothing!” I answer after I see that I won’t be able to get away without saying anything at all.

He laughs bitterly, and if I had to guess, I would say he’s rolling his eyes at me. “That’s bullshit. When I search your vehicle, am I going to find anything?”

I pull my lips into a tight line. How in the fuck am I going to get out of this? The best thing I can do in this situation is come clean.
Maybe he’ll let me go if he knows what I’ve been through this evening—
if he knows that this isn’t an everyday thing for me.

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time. Am I going to find anything?” he asks again with more authority ringing through his voice.

I suck in a breath and then release it through my nose. “Yes, but you have to let me explain. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything like this.”

“That’s what they all say.” He reaches down and grabs my shoulder and my cuffed wrists and hoists me to my feet.

“You have to believe me, Officer. It’s true,” I plead.

“Why would I?” He walks me toward his squad car.

I close my eyes. I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to admit the truth out loud, because then it makes it real, and I’m not ready to face that. Running away from reality is the exact reason that I’m right here, right now.

The cop opens the door, and when I see the backseat, I panic. I know I have no choice but to tell him if I want any shot of getting out of this situation. “I found out that my dad died, and I was looking for something to take me out of this reality. When the guy came up to me and offered a way to forget about things, I took him up on the offer.”

The officer leans me back against the car. It’s the first time I’m able to get a good look at him. He’s about six inches shorter than me, with a very stocky build, and his gray hair pokes out from under his hat, revealing that he’s got a bit of age on him.

He frowns, and I can read a bit of sympathy in his dark eyes. “I’m really sorry to hear about your dad, but, son, the law is the law, and running to drugs isn’t the way to solve your problems.”

I lick my lips, and it’s not like I don’t already know it. Turning to them was an impulse decision that I wish I could take back. “I realize that, sir, but I obviously have a lot of shit going on right now. If you let me go, I swear to God that you’ll never catch me back on this side of town again.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way. If I find drugs in that truck of yours, I have to report you, and you’ll have to face up to having them in your possession.”

My heart races in my chest. “No, please. You don’t understand. If I get caught with drugs, I’ll lose my scholarship. I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for my entire life over one stupid, rushed decision.”

He furrows his brow. “Scholarship? You look familiar. What’s your name?”

I lift my chin. “Jared Kraft.”

Both of his eyebrows rise up. “The Volunteers baseball pitcher?”

The only answer I give him is a quick nod.

The moment I confirm who I am, his eyes grow wide. “Shit, son. I heard them talking about you on ESPN the other day. All the analysts are calling you the next big thing. Why are you of all people out here buying drugs? You’ve got so much to lose.”

“I know that,” I reply, “but like I said, I made a mistake. I just found out my father died overseas and . . . I don’t know what I am. I’m not myself right now.”

He sighs. “I understand. I really do, and I wish I could do something for you, but the truth of the matter is all of this has already been documented on camera.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the squad car. “And besides that, if my partner catches the dealer, we’ll have no choice but to take him downtown. We can’t allow riffraff like that to run the streets and sell to teenagers and be the cause of someone’s death. I’m sorry, Jared, but my hands are tied.”

“Shit,” I mutter and tip my head up to the sky.

If Dad is watching this right now, I know he’s fucking pissed at me. I’ve let him down. I’ve let my family down, and more importantly I’ve let myself down. I ran out on my mother and brother when I know they needed me to be there and be strong, but I broke down like a coward—unable to face the harsh reality of the truth—and left them. How could I have done that? I hate letting people down. My integrity is one thing I prize, and I’ve lost it in one night. How can the people I love ever trust me to stick by them in the future when things get tough? And now, with this drug thing, it’ll destroy everything. My future—London’s future with me—may all be shot to shit after this.

I treated London so cold before I walked out the door tonight. She probably won’t forgive me. I know I wouldn’t if I were her. The way I lashed out at her—I’ve never done that before. I didn’t even know that part of me existed, and to be honest, with how fucked up my head is right now, I can’t promise that I’ll never do it again. I can’t control this anger inside me, and the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt her. I already hate myself right now for how I just treated her. If things keep going like this, I may not be the best thing for her anymore.

NOW

JARED

W
e’ve been on the road for a couple of months now in support of our second album. It’s one of the hottest days of the year, and Wicked White is one of the headlining bands for Summerfest. We’ve worked really hard to get to this point, not to mention our struggles with one another in order to make it to the big league.

Jane Ann rushes past me without giving me a single glance, her bright red hair swishing around as she frantically whips her head back and forth as if she’s looking for something.

I lift one eyebrow when she finally spots me and then makes a beeline toward me. “Looking for someone?”

She twists her red lips. “Yes, you. Where are Luke and Tyler? I need to speak with all of you.”

I shrug. “How should I know? I’m not their babysitter.”

Jane Ann crosses her arms over her chest. “Attitude like that is exactly what I need to speak with all of you about.”

“Really? I happen to believe that there’s not one thing wrong with my attitude,” I retort. “My contract doesn’t mention anything about me being fucking rainbows and sunshine. It says that I’m to show up, do my job, and that’s it, and I assure you I’ve never missed a show. Hell, if I had a time card, I’d be employee of the year with perfect attendance.”

Her face flushes, and I can tell she’s ready to rip into me but is try
ing hard to maintain her composure since there are so many people
milling about around us in the backstage area. “Jared, you need to learn
to respect others. This mouth of yours causes nothing but trouble.”

I roll my eyes. “Respect others? Like who?”

“Ace, for one.”

That causes a bitter laugh to tear out of me. “Ace? Are you fucking kidding me? Why should I respect him?”

She straightens her back. “Because after tonight I’m making him your boss. I’m putting him in charge of this band, giving him more authority to make minor calls to keep him happy, so you better get used to biting your tongue when it comes to Ace.” She glances down at her watch, and I open my mouth to fire back, but she cuts me off. “Speaking of which, Ace has a signing appearance to make, but I expect all of you to be waiting side stage to take direction from Ace as soon as he’s done signing autographs. If you’re late, for anything, you will be fined. Make sure you find the other two and let them know.”

She walks off, twisting her hips in her too-tight red skirt in the process.

“I wonder how big the stick up her ass is? Fucker must be huge for her to be a constant bitch.” Luke’s voice pulls me out of the trance I was in watching Jane Ann walk away.

God, that woman and her little pet, Ace, get under my skin.

“What did she want this time?” My gaze turns to my redheaded bandmate who stands beside Tyler, the dirty-blond-haired drummer. Both of the men stare at me, waiting on my answer.

I rub the back of my neck. “She came to tell me that I have a bad attitude and that we better start showing Ace more respect. Oh, and she’s also imposing fines if we’re late.”

Tyler’s green eyes widen. “Respect him? Is she kidding me?”

“Afraid not. She told me to make sure we are waiting side stage for Ace because she plans on making him our boss,” I inform them.

“Our boss?” Luke says so loud he might as well shout it from the rooftop. “Now I know that bitch has lost her mind. They might’ve been able to make Ace the face of the band, but I’ll never follow his lead without a fight. It’s bad enough he tries to order us around every chance he gets when it comes to the way we play.”

I understand their anger because I share in their feelings, but I’m not sure how much we can actually fight the change. From now on, it looks as though Ace will pretty much own us, and I hate that. I hate the idea of being at his disposal.

We sit backstage together, waiting for Ace to show up. I find it funny that Wicked White was scheduled for an autograph session with the fans, and yet most of the band isn’t there. Only Ace. It’s complete bullshit how we get treated like Ace’s backup, but it’s becoming clear to me that’s exactly what we are.

An hour later, I spot Jane Ann making her way toward us with Ace by her side. Ace looks up and catches me staring at him, and it takes every muscle in my body to remain calm and not tell his ass off.

“I’m glad all you guys are here on time,” Jane Ann says as she approaches Tyler, Luke, and me. “I see my little warning of imposing fines for tardiness has made a difference.”

“Not all of us have you as our personal fucking wristwatch.” Tyler’s tone makes it clear that he’s not happy, but that doesn’t faze our bitchy manager. He shoves a piece of his hair out of his eyes. “Why don’t the rest of us get the same coddling that Ace gets? You always take it easy on him.”

Luke glances over at me and smirks before releasing a small laugh. He absolutely loves it when our normally quiet Tyler spouts off at the mouth. He doesn’t say much, but when he’s mad, he’s direct. Sugarcoating things isn’t in Tyler’s nature, and sometimes I’m glad that he speaks up. It’s nice that I’m not the only one showing my utter disdain for the entire situation.

Ace studies us, and the expression on his face tells me that he’d like nothing more than for us all to go to hell, but he doesn’t have the balls to tell us that. Besides, he knows just as well as anyone that he gets treated far better than we do. I mean, the guy would have to be a fucking moron if he didn’t realize it.

I sigh heavily. If Jane Ann wants me to treat Ace like he’s above me, I might as well start treating him like he’s royalty. “So what’s our set list like for tonight, Your Highness?”

Ace’s nostrils flare, and I love that I’m getting to him. Why should he get it so easy? He hasn’t done anything better than we have, and I certainly don’t think he’s more talented that any of us—namely me.

“Same set as last night, but we’ll be canceling the next couple of shows on the tour,” Ace says, like him making the decision to cancel a few shows is no big deal.

“What?!” Now the douche bag is messing with my money. That shit isn’t going to fly.

Ace flinches as his gaze whips between Jane Ann and me. It’s like he’s in shock that we’d be pissed over this.

“What the fuck do you mean we’re canceling?” Luke asks, his fiery tone matching the color of his hair. “We’ve booked enough dates to be set for a long time. We can’t go canceling shit now.”

“Look, guys, I’m sorry, but my mother is sick—”

Oh, I have to stop this fucker right there. I know for a fact that’s a lie. How dare he use an excuse like that when it’s a known fact he grew up in the system.

“That’s horseshit. You don’t even have a mother. You were a fucking orphan.”

He narrows his eyes, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t like being called out on his bullshit.

“Shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you,” Ace fires back at me, which only pisses me off further.

I don’t take threats well. My pulse races as I take a step closer to Ace, closing the distance between us. I’ve got him by at least two inches and probably twenty-five or so pounds. Ace doesn’t work out like I do. It’s clear from his puny muscles. I lock my gaze onto his and dare him to hit me, begging him to give me a reason to fuck him up.

Ace’s toe bumps into mine, and I’m instantly taken aback by his bravery to stand up to me. He usually just storms off and sulks, avoiding confrontation. It still doesn’t change the fact that I will end him if he tests me, because he doesn’t scare me one damn bit.

Ace looks directly into my eyes. “That sounds like a threat.”

“You bet your ass it is,” I reply coolly.

Jane Ann wedges her petite frame between us. This is her worst nightmare realized: someone like me who has already been chomping at the bit to get my hands on this guy and prove he isn’t all that. “Both of you knock this shit off right now. I won’t tolerate physical violence of any kind. This isn’t going to happen if you want to stay on Mopar’s payroll.”

Jane Ann knows that’s the one thing that will reel me back in—the money. I have nothing else in my life but music, and I’m pretty damn lucky to be able to make a living doing it, so I don’t want to fuck that up.

I take a step back and raise my hands in surrender. “Fine. Just keep Boy Wonder here out of my face.”

That hits a nerve, because Ace tenses, and Jane Ann shoves her hand into his chest to keep him from lunging forward. “Cool it, Ace. This is neither the time nor place.” She turns back around to face us with one of the meanest scowls I’ve ever seen. “You three, go wait side stage.”

Luke rolls his eyes, and Tyler stalks off toward the stage with drumsticks in hand—both doing what they were told. Before I go, I overhear Jane Ann scold Ace for telling us that he’s canceling shows. Seems as though he doesn’t have as much authority as he thought.

That last little bit causes me to smile as I pick up my guitar.

“Wicked White. You’re up,” the stage manager for Summerfest tells the three of us. “Go ahead and take the stage.”

I turn back to where we left Jane Ann and Ace. Jane Ann is throwing her hands around wildly, and Ace is leaning forward, pointing his finger at her. Looks like things aren’t so rosy on the other side of the fence right now.

Tyler is the first to walk out on stage, and the crowd goes insane while Luke and I follow.

We stand on stage with the fans chanting “Wicked White,” and I glance back at the other two guys and shrug. It’s not like Ace to keep fans waiting. He knows that’s bad for business, and Jane Ann certainly does, but from the looks of it, Ace is having second thoughts about performing. It appears that he doesn’t want to come on stage, and Jane Ann is physically shoving him in our direction.

Ace’s jaw hangs open like he’s shocked that Jane Ann just forced him out here. He continues to stare at her as if he’s trying to process exactly what has just gone down.

I nod at Tyler and Luke, and we all begin to play, hoping to get this show on the road so we don’t look clueless in front of the crowd. Tyler taps out the opening song—which is the same one we opened with last night, just like Ace wants. The three of us look to one another because Ace misses his cue to start singing. The fucker hasn’t even picked up the mic yet.

What in the hell is he doing? Is he trying to make us all look like dumbasses who don’t know what we’re doing? I think he’s doing this shit on purpose over the little exchange we had only moments ago.

Finally, Ace turns to face us. He takes the time to stare at each one of us individually with an unreadable face. I knew the guy was an asshole, but now we can add certifiably insane after this show. No wonder Jane Ann gives him his way most of the time.

When he points his gaze on me, his brow furrows like he’s trying to figure me out, and then he jams his fingers into his bronze hair.

I stand still on the stage but continue to play, hoping that whatever it is he’s going through, he figures this shit out fast. In front of a sold-out festival isn’t the time or place to have a breakdown of some sort.

He squeezes his eyes shut and then opens them to stare at us while we wait on him to sing. Ace raises both of his hands and flips his middle finger in our direction before he turns on his heel and storms off stage without uttering a single word.

Jane Ann’s jaw drops as he stalks past her, completely ignoring her orders to get back on stage.

With wide eyes I watch as our band’s front man walks away from everything he’s worked for, and in an odd way, I relate to him.