Fetch

Prologue

T he line to get into Joystick tonight is already wrapped around the block. I walk past it and hand the bouncer my VIP ticket. A cackle of boos rings out behind me. I turn to them and shrug. “Perks of being a sponsor, boys.”

Technically, I’m not a sponsor. My work is. The pay might be shitty at Vinyl Delights, but nights like these make up for it. Our little record store is one of many local businesses collaborating to bring Lavender Heights the biggest gaming event it’s ever seen.

As a diehard gamer girl myself, I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Plus, Juniper would kill me if I made her come alone with only Coast and Milo to hang out with. We tolerate them at work, but neither of us wants to hang out with them all fucking night.

They’re good looking and polite enough, but their taste in music is weird. And they’re semi-obsessed with Juniper. When we all work together, they just gawk at her and let her pick the music in the store. I think it’s kind of cute but it gives Juniper the ick.

My gorgeous friend waves to me from the bar, her blonde hair reflecting tones of pink from the glare of the neon lights. “Damn, lady, you look spicy. These gamer boys are going to think you’re one of the snacks.”

I feel my cheeks blush. Juniper is an exhibitionist, and I usually hide my curves behind hoodies and jeans. But tonight, I want to look like a VIP. I twirl around, showing off my short organza skirt. It’s black with sparkles.

“I’m flaunting tonight,” I say as I lean forward and squeeze my arms together, showing off my deep cleavage. The ribbons on my black bustier are hot pink, matching the lights overhead. I paired the entire ensemble with high-top wedged sneakers. You never know when you’re gonna have to run away. Heels are a death trap. I hate them. Especially after my accident.

She fingers a lock of my dark-brown hair. “I love the waves too.”

“ You always look hot,” I praise. Juniper leans against the bar in a tight white bodysuit, rhinestone stiletto heels, and a brown, faux-fur jacket.

She puckers her bright-pink lips around the straw of her pink drink and winks. “Thanks, babe. Coast and Milo already came by to tell me that very same thing.”

I burst out laughing. “They did not. Those two would have a heart attack before that happens.”

She winks again. “I know, but it’s what they’re thinking. Fucking weirdos.”

I glance around the bar, taking in the sights. They did an amazing job transforming our local arcade bar into a gamer’s wet dream. In between each vintage arcade machine is a server dressed up as an iconic game character, holding a tray of brightly colored shots. Cassette tapes and vinyl records strung together act as garland in between the aisles. And in the center of the room is an old-school photo booth. A pair of drunk girls stumble out wearing pink boas and star-shaped sunglasses. There’s so much glitter everywhere.

The speakers are pumping out old-school, classic eighties music. I bob my head to “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds. while Juniper and I peruse the hors d’oeuvres table. Keeping with the eighties theme, there are mini sloppy-joes sandwiches, a cheese fondue station, deviled eggs, and Popsicles for dessert. There are also trays of lollipops, Jell-O shots, and candy cigarettes.

I grab a shot while Juniper settles for a Popsicle to satisfy her oral fixation. “So, you think Punk will make an appearance?”

My stomach flips. “ Punk Wilder? He’s an enigma. I highly doubt it,” I answer while trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

Punk Wilder is one of the most famous skaters of our generation. Tonight’s party is to celebrate the five-year anniversary of his skateboarding game. But what makes him more intriguing is the fact that he hasn’t been seen in public since its launch. And who could blame him?

Juniper twirls her tongue around the tip of the Popsicle like it’s something tastier. “Yeah, after that scandal, I wouldn’t show my face in public either.”

“Shit happens. I think everyone deserves a second chance.” I feel bad for the guy. After his injury, he spiraled. I can definitely relate to that.

She shrugs. “Well, at least he didn’t lose all his sponsors. Otherwise, this dope party would not be happening.”

I don’t play extreme sports games, preferring the first-person shooter ones instead. But I respect the impact his franchise has had on our community. Every little skater boy and girl plays that game like it’s a rite of passage. Which is why Joystick also set up a skate ramp in the back parking lot as well.

“Oh fuck. Incoming ,” Juniper says under her breath. She rolls her eyes and turns her back toward the crowd.

I can’t help but chuckle as Coast and Milo make their way toward us. They barely look at me. “Quit pretending you don’t love that they’re obsessed with you.”

She winces as if I slapped her. “Lies. They are so fucking cringe.”

“Hey, Juniper,” Milo rasps. At five foot ten, he just barely bests her in height. Especially in those four-inch heels she’s wearing. Coast, on the other hand, towers over her.

She lets out a dramatic sigh for emphasis as she spins around. “What’s up?”

“Cool party,” Coast quips. His long black eyelashes are to die for. They frame his big brown eyes like spider webs.

Juniper shrugs.

“We are having a great time,” I answer for her as I try to conceal a giggle.

“Okay, bye, see you at work tomorrow.” Juniper grabs me by the wrist and drags me to the other side of the bar. “Ugh, they are so awkward.”

“I think it’s sweet. You just don’t like nice guys,” I semi-tease.

Juniper has a new toxic boyfriend every other week. My dating life, on the other hand, is nonexistent. Ever since my injury, I haven’t felt like myself. Other than an occasional random hookup, I don’t have the desire to get close to anyone.

Spending three years with a man who I thought was the one , only to have him treat me like damaged goods after I lost my dance scholarship… it sent me to a dark place. Even though my leg has healed, my heart hasn’t.

“You want another drink?” she yells over the music.

I nod. “Snag me a couple more Jell-O shots. I’m going to hit the ladies’ room.”

I push my way through the ever-growing crowd. I’m not used to seeing Joystick so busy. It takes me ten minutes to get to the stairwell that leads down to the bathrooms. I praise myself internally for opting for the sneaker wedges instead of high heels as I make my descent. The floors are slippery and sticky with splashes of booze and broken pieces of candy.

I groan when I see the line heading into the women’s restroom. There are at least fifteen girls ahead of me in the darkened hallway. “Fuck this,” I mutter under my breath.

I charge past them and head for the exit, remembering the gas station next door. I shiver as I jog across the parking lot through the cold rain. I’ll have to show my ticket again at the door, but there’s no way I can drink anymore if I don’t pee.

I get the key from the attendant and go as fast as I can. I wash my hands twice before returning the key and heading back to Joystick. I make it as far as the side of the building, near an exit door that apparently doesn’t allow reentry. I start to knock on it when a hand clamps down on my wrist.

What the fuck? I spin around to face the culprit.

“Hey, sexy. Where you running off to?” A tall beefy dude with reddish-brown hair leers down at me.

I snatch my wrist away. “I’m just trying to get back inside.”

He smirks. “Nah, I think you’re looking for some company. Stay and show me what you got underneath that skirt.”

My stomach knots as I glance down the alleyway. There are loads of people just around the corner, but over here, we’re isolated. And the music is too loud for anyone to hear me if I scream.

I back up toward the locked exit door. “I’m good, actually. My friends are just inside. Wanna meet them?” Maybe if I can get him to follow me inside, I’ll have a better shot at shaking him.

He inches forward, forcing me against the concrete wall. “I like it better out here.” Before I can react, he clamps a hand over my mouth. I let out a muffled scream and try to kick forward, but he has me pinned.

“Shhh. I’ll be quick.” He stuffs his free hand underneath my skirt and yanks my panties to the side.

Oh no. Fuck. I can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. I lift my leg and knee him in the groin as hard as I can. His grip on my mouth slips, and I bite his hand before pushing him back. I spin around to make a run for it when he grabs a hold of my hair.

“Come back here, bitch!” He pins me against the exit door.

Tears stream down my cheeks. No. “Please, let me go.”

His eyes darken as he reaches under my skirt again. This time, I freeze. Bile rises in my throat as he slips a chubby finger inside my panties. “That’s better. Hold still while I touch you.”

My heart races, beating up into my throat. I look away as he rubs his finger against my slit. He tugs on my waist with his free hand, coaxing me forward. “Come on, my truck’s just right over there.”

Fuck. I shove at him. “No. I need to get back inside.”

He growls and pushes me back against the wall. “Fine. We’ll do it here.” He shoves his finger inside me, and I almost black out. “You’re pretty tight for a whore.”

The door barrels open beside us, and he jumps back, releasing me. “Hey!” The sound of techno music and shrill voices echoes into the lonely alleyway.

I don’t hesitate and make a run for it, pushing past the bathroom line. I sprint up the stairs and don’t stop until I spot Juniper.

I crash into her, collapsing against her. “He-he tried to…”

“Roxy, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Juniper cups my face in her hands, her eyes searching for any signs of injuries.

I shake my head as the tears pour out. “No-no. I mean, yes. He touched me…”

Juniper looks around. “Is he still here? I will fucking cut his dick off.”

“It was outside. I went next door to use the bathroom. I’m sorry,” I cry.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She whips out her phone. “I’m calling the cops, and then I’m going to help you sue the fuck out of this place.”

I grab her hands. “No. Please. No cops. I just want to go home.”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “Roxy, you were assaulted. That guy is still out there. We have to tell someone.”

Fuck. I don’t want any more attention on me. I can’t take another scandal. “Fine. You can call them after we leave. Tell them you saw it but that you don’t know who it was.”

She nods. “Where did he touch you?”

I shake my head again. “Doesn’t matter. The back door opened, and I ran inside as fast as I could.”

“Everything okay?” Coast interrupts from seemingly out of nowhere. “You both look upset.”

Juniper rolls her eyes and drapes an arm around me. “We’re fine. She’s just got food poisoning. Stay away from the sloppy joes, boys.”

“Thank you,” I whisper as we leave Milo and Coast standing there dumbfounded.

It took me twenty minutes to convince Juniper that I was fine being alone in my apartment. After I showed her my pistol, she conceded. This is Lavender Heights. Every single woman living alone should have one.

As I stand under the piping hot water of my shower, scrubbing my skin raw with a loofa filled with peach bodywash, I become angrier. I’m angry with myself. I know better than to wander around in the dark alone on a Friday night in that part of town.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I’m just grateful to whoever used that back door to leave. They don’t even know how close I was to… Fuck. I pinch my eyes shut and try and block it out. I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m safe now. Remembering the exercises my therapist taught me, I exhale a deep breath and count to ten. Another deep breath in through my nose. And out. And repeat.

The muscles between my shoulder blades begin to loosen the longer I do this. Satisfied that I’ve managed to stave off another full-blown panic attack, I turn off the water and step out to dry off.

I slip into a pair of fuzzy sweats, pour a glass of whiskey, and melt into my couch. I’m tired but still on edge. I know I won’t be able to sleep, so why bother? I click on the TV and channel surf until I stumble on an old rom-com. Within minutes, I relax even more. Until my phone pings three times in a row.

I look down to see a string of texts from Juniper.

Have you seen this? What the fuck is going on at Joystick tonight? Girl, this is all over the fucking news.

My fingers tremble, hovering over the link she sent me. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. My nerves are shot. I don’t know how much more I can take right now.

She texts again.

Roxy??? Is this the guy?

Fuck. I click on the link, and all the blood rushes to my feet. Thank fuck I’m sitting down. The first line reads: Man jumps to his death at popular arcade bar, Joystick, tonight. Leaves behind a note confessing to sexual assault.

I sit forward, my heart racing. What the fuck? There’s no way. That creep didn’t strike me as the remorseful type.

I text her back.

I don’t know. They haven’t released his photo yet.

Typing bubbles appear, disappear, then reappear again.

It has to be. Shit. Are you okay?

I don’t know what to feel. Or think. I take a sip of my whiskey and read through the article again. The reporter states that no onlookers recalled seeing the man inside. And the bar had zero record of him being on the guest list. It must be him. He must have weaseled his way inside after I ran through the back door.

But for what purpose? I find it hard to believe he killed himself just moments after I got away from him. A shiver snakes up my back. It just doesn’t add up. And I hate that I’m a part of it.

I text her back.

No one can ever know what happened to me tonight. Okay? No one.

Juniper has been my best friend since I left school three years ago. I trust her with my life. But I need to make sure she keeps quiet.

I understand. We left before it happened, so I doubt anyone will contact us. But I’m deleting all these texts just in case.

I let out a sigh of relief and delete the texts on my end as well. I just want to put this night behind me and forget I ever went to Punk Wilder’s anniversary party. The one he didn’t even bother to show up to. Ugh.

I down the rest of my whiskey and switch my TV over to my gaming console. I need to shoot some apocalyptic creatures to blow off steam. When I load into After: 8113 , I see that Juniper has the same idea. Her gamer tag, BratBaby, pops up on my screen. I accept her group party invite and turn on my headphones.

“There she is. Ready to fuck some shit up, JillChick22?” Juniper asks.

I unmute my mic. “Fuck, yes, I am.”

This is the only place where I’m in control. I can do anything in this game. I can be anyone . And tonight, I need to be someone other than the girl who got sexually assaulted by a dead guy more than anything.