Author: Cassia Leo

‘Is that jealousy or over-protectiveness?’

‘Both.’

‘Okay, but only because the thought of being more than a few feet away from you in here is making me sick to my stomach.’ She takes a sip from her water and grabs the front of my hoodie, and I have to temper my reaction so she doesn’t know how much this turns me on. ‘Now I want you to tell me how you got away with it.’

The question catches me off-guard. At first, I think she’s talking about Jordan’s death, then I realize she’s talking about the fat piece of shit who raped her then left her for dead in that parking lot. Then a dark thought materializes in my mind and I’m afraid to even think it. She was covered in so much blood, it was pooling underneath her when I lifted her off the asphalt. I didn’t see any knife or gunshot wounds, but then again I wasn’t really looking for them. God, I hope my instincts are wrong.

‘The gun I used wasn’t registered, so I didn’t hesitate when I shot that guy. And I made sure to pull up at least twenty yards ahead of the emergency room entrance, instead of right next to it, in case there were cameras. And so I could make a quick getaway after I left you there.’

She stares at my chest as she asks this next question. ‘And the evidence? How did you get rid of the gun and the car and your clothes? I mean . . . you must have been covered in blood.’

‘I burned my car and my clothes, then I cleaned up the gun and sold it.’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it. I figured they probably wouldn’t be banging down doors, doing a hard investigation into who killed the guy who did that to you. And, with the guy dead, he couldn’t rat out which of his friends were with him that night. And even if they were picked up for questioning, I highly doubted they would want to admit to seeing me there; that would be like admitting their guilt. Can I ask you a question now?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Did they ever show you mug shots or pictures of potential suspects? If they had that guy’s body, they must have known who his friends were.’

She grabs her glass of water again and wraps both hands around it as she holds the rim against her lips. ‘They did, but I told the detectives I didn’t recognize them.’

‘Why?’

Her hands are trembling so I take the glass from her hands and put it back on the bar.

‘Because the first two pictures they showed me were of guys I’d never seen before. I knew they had mixed in photos of unrelated criminals. And I found myself hoping that the next picture would not be one of them either. That’s when I realized I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pick them out in a picture or sit in a courtroom with them. I never wanted to see them again.’

Jimmy smacks the bar in front of us and we both jump. ‘Hey, hotshot. You’re up.’

‘Thanks,’ I shoot back at him, then I turn to Mikki. ‘Are you okay to go up there?’

She nods and I wrap my arms around her one last time, to draw a little more inspiration, and the way she hugs me back fills me up with it. I think I could stand here like this for the rest of my life.

She gives me one last squeeze then leans in to whisper in my ear. ‘Blow out their circuits.’

Chapter 33: MIKKI – January 5th

A guy in a black T-shirt and gray newsboy cap delivers Crush’s guitar to him on the side of the stage from wherever they were holding it for him. It’s a black acoustic-electric that looks sort of like the guitar Meaghan’s ex-boyfriend Randy used to carry around with him everywhere. He clips a black leather strap onto the body of the guitar then slings it over his shoulder with such ease, as if he’s done it a million times; and he probably has.

‘What are you grinning at?’ he asks, reaching into his back pocket.

‘You look so cool, like you were born to do this.’

He chuckles as he rubs the crushed penny his grandfather gave him between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I guess we’ll find out if you’re right very soon.’

‘Some folks just got it,’ Leroy says into the microphone as he glances at Crush, eliciting a few hollers from the crowd. One of them sounds like a female squealing and a jealous fire sparks inside me. ‘Please welcome to the stage the boy who spends so much time here I’m gonna have to start charging this fool rent. The one, the only, Cruuuuushh!’

‘Come on.’ Crush nods toward the stage.

I take one step up onto the tiny stage where two white wooden stools await us. I take a seat on the stool on the left and watch as Crush plugs in his guitar and positions both microphones in their stands: one for his guitar and one for his mouth. My heart is ready to pound out of my chest and he seems so calm.

I want to look out at the people sitting and standing just a few feet from the stage, but I’m afraid I’ll have a panic attack or throw up. Instead, I keep my gaze focused on Crush as he sits in the stool next to me and tilts the microphone until it’s right next to his lips. He winks at me before he turns his attention toward the crowd, and it’s this simple gesture that puts me at ease.

‘Most of you already know me, so I won’t bore you with any further introductions. Tonight’s not about me, anyway. Tonight is about this girl.’ I bury my face in my hands in embarrassment, sensing dozens of eyes on me, hearing their laughter as I attempt to hide in plain sight. Crush places his hand on my knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. I slowly lower my hands and he reaches for my face. ‘This is a song I’ve been working on for a while,’ he continues, and I can’t help but grin. ‘This is called “Black Box”, for the girl who holds the key to mine.’

My stomach is bubbling with so much nervous energy, I’m afraid I might vomit. I take a few deep breaths as I try to focus on Crush. He brushes the flattened penny across the strings and the sound sends a chill over my skin. He takes a moment to tune a couple of the strings, then he clears his throat and begins. From the very first notes he plucks out on the guitar, I can tell that the melancholy acoustic melody is going to make me cry. It has a loose, bluesy feel that reminds me of hot summer nights, lying in bed with a fresh pad of paper and a pen. I find myself hoping that someday he’ll sing me to sleep with this tune.

Then he sings the first line and his voice . . . it’s like salted caramel, smooth and richly sweet with a grainy finish.

Hope can cleanse the darkest soul

Wash away the blue

And hope is all I can recall

The night I met you

Washed up on this shore of mine

A shell broken, cracked

Never could have known this time

You’d turn my world black

This black box

Is yours to keep

This black box

Will help you sleep

This black box

Don’t know your name

This black box

Loves you just the same

Time don’t pass for the lonely

Season’s all look gray

Time stands still when you hold me

Knowing you won’t stray

Love don’t come to the wicked

Get what’s coming back

Oh, love ain’t no white picket

No, our love is black

I don’t believe in coincidence or fate

But I know one thing for sure

Your face was meant to be

Burned into the deepest reaches

Of my blackest memories.

He sings the chorus a couple more times then he slings the guitars behind his back as the crowd cheers. He takes my face in his hands as his green eyes are fixed on mine. The sounds of applause and cheering fade away. Our eyes close and I hold my breath until I feel his lips on mine. I take a deep breath, breathing him in, then I part my lips and he swallows my exhalation.

I have never been kissed in front of anyone, much less a crowd of strangers, but I know this is a kiss I’ll never forget. Because I’ve never felt more safe or loved in my entire life than I do in this moment. And with each passing second, I find myself longing for more than just his kiss.

He pulls away and chuckles as I lean into him, seeking more. Some others must have noticed as I hear a few brief strains of laughter from the crowd.

‘Are you ready to go?’ Crush asks and I nod hastily.

Yes, I’m ready to go. I want to do that again.

*****

We make out in the back of the car all the way back to the hotel. Just kissing, with one of his hands on my knee and the other clasping the back of my neck, I’ve never felt more alive. Every tilt of his head and stroke of his tongue, every brush of his lips against mine, sends sparks of longing through me. This is what it feels like to want someone. It’s beautiful and frightening and I don’t know if I should stop it.

I push him away as I begin to feel his weight pressing me into the corner of the backseat. ‘Wait.’

‘I’m sorry. Am I pushing you?’ He sits up straight and scrunches his eyebrows. ‘You’re shaking.’

‘I’m scared. Not of you,’ I clarify. ‘I’m scared that my memories from the past will get jumbled up with my memories of you, and I don’t want that to happen.’

‘You don’t have to explain. All you have to do is say no, or wait, or stop, or piss off, or leave me the fuck alone, dipshit. I’ll never force you to do something you don’t feel comfortable doing and I’ll never make you feel guilty about that. Okay?’

I nod as the car pulls up in front of the Park Plaza. ‘Okay. But . . . is it okay if we do that some more?’

‘Do what?’

‘Kiss.’

‘We can do that as long as you want.’

In the elevator on the ride up to the fourth floor, he steals another kiss and I freeze, my body tingling as his lips travel across my jaw and up to my ear. ‘Tonight is our last night in this room. Do you still want to switch rooms with me tomorrow?’

I smile with relief as the doors slide open and I pull him out of the elevator. ‘Yes.’

I run down the corridor, giddy with excitement, like this is the last day of school. He walks behind me with a smile so warm it could halt a blizzard. I watch him as he catches up to me outside the door of our room, then I throw my arms around him.

‘You make me feel normal.’

His smile disappears and I feel like I’ve said something wrong, but he turns away and looks at the door suspiciously. ‘Do you hear voices in there?’

I don’t have time to answer before the door swings inward, pulled open by a policeman. Standing not more than ten feet behind him are another policeman, my parents, Meaghan, and Rina.

Chapter 34: MIKKI – January 5th

Rina looks pissed. ‘What the fuck, Mikki?’

‘Honey!’ My mom rushes me. ‘Get your hands off of her!’ she shrieks, pummeling Crush’s arms until he lets me go.

‘Mom, stop it.’ I position myself between her and Crush. ‘Stop it!’

‘Excuse me, sir. Can you please step inside?’

The officer who addressed Crush is well built and looks like he might want to do Crush some bodily harm. Crush glances at me, pure confusion in his eyes, then he squeezes past my mom and me and steps over the threshold. My mom throws her arms around my waist and her fingertips dig into my back as she hugs me tightly.

I pat her on the back then push her back. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Why didn’t you call us?’ She sounds more pissed than worried as I pry her arms from around my waist and follow Crush inside, ignoring her question.

‘Ma’am, were you being held against your will?’ The officer asks me this quite seriously as I step into the hotel room and I can’t help but laugh.

‘Are you kidding me? No, I am not being held against my will. We’re staying here cause our flight was rescheduled.’

‘Why haven’t you tried to get in contact with your family?’

The other officer with the mustache standing between Rina and my father asks this question in an accusatory tone.