Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Achilles
She Thinks of Me – London Tewers
The ghost town where North Shore youth organize illegal street racing is technically on the South Bank.
If you drive along the Silver Snake River, all the way to the end of the city, right by the highway, there's an old development that was abandoned years ago. A mall that was practically finished, empty homes and apartments that would’ve housed both North Shore and South Bank residents, and other half-finished buildings like a school and a medical center.
In this location, the south and north banks of the river practically touch.
There's no bridge, but one was meant to be built. It would’ve been crossed within a two-minute walk.
The project was abandoned after many complaints from both sides, and no one lives here now.
But on random nights during the month, the North Shore uses it for street racing, and over time, despite it being on our side of town, they call it theirs.
They gather and make bets, no matter which gang they used to belong to.
There are rules they respect, and they enjoy their nights within the laws they created for themselves.
I've never had any hobby that would put my hands in danger. I never played football or lacrosse at school, no activities that would put my passion in jeopardy. If someone is ever brave enough to fight me, I’d rather slit their throat than risk breaking my knuckles. So, I don't race. I would never race.
But I'm here tonight because a talented musician friend of mine has a girlfriend who races, and when I asked him to look at part of my most recent music urgently, he told me to meet him here.
I wouldn't email it to him or send pictures; this is too confidential.
I'm going to get his opinion on something, and then I'm going to go to the North Shore to find Nyx and take her to dinner like I demanded this morning.
She'll probably be done rehearsing by then.
It's crazy to me that she still thinks she can get rid of me.
How much am I going to have to push for her to understand?
"Achilles," I hear his voice call out from somewhere in the crowd before a few people part to let him through.
Ethan Torres isn’t the most chatty or touchy guy, which always works for us since I hate when people do so much as approach me.
The only times we talk are to talk music.
I found him online. He releases songs he composes on a social media account, and he's started to amass a substantial following.
We have very different styles. He produces punk music and is a genius with an electric guitar, while I focus on classical.
But what matters is the raw talent he emanates, and when he looks at my music, he doesn't spend the first five minutes thanking god that Achilles Duval asked for his opinion.
He doesn't think twice before telling me something is shit because he doesn't have any interest in shoving his face in my ass.
He pushes messy black hair out of his eyes when he reaches me and nods as a hello.
"You got your manuscript?" he asks, not bothered with any politeness.
I need more people like him around me.
Pulling out the sheet of paper I folded in four from my back pocket, I hand it to him.
"That's it? That's all you've written?"
"You don't think I'm going to show you everything, do you? It's a masterpiece."
He snorts. "I'd like to see that from you."
When I tell people I haven't composed in six years, I mean nothing worthy.
I try. I have my very own special secret that inspired me the first time I wrote a concerto.
It was the first time I killed someone. It was painful and bloody.
I tried to do it over and over again, but it stopped having the effect it used to.
Now, I write a sheet, hate it, show it to Ethan, he hates it too, and I don't try again for months.
Nothing ever makes it past the loathing stage, so he has no good expectations of me. But tonight is different.
He blinks at the sheet a few times, and I watch his eyes read and re-read.
We're surrounded by the sounds of tires screeching, engines roaring, and a screaming crowd, but his audiation skills are extraordinary, so I don't doubt that he's realized how good it is by now.
Nyx is the same; she hears music perfectly when she reads.
I noticed that about her. That's why I took her to my music room yesterday.
I wanted her to understand exactly the effect she has on me when she saw those sheets.
And now, not realizing it's about her, Ethan knows too.
"Shit," he finally says. "This is…soul wrenching. Fucking terrifying, man."
A smile tickles my lips, but he shakes his head when he looks at me. "You're fucking terrifying."
"I know."
"Your music is the equivalent of watching Jaws while floating on a rubber ring in the middle of the ocean."
"I know," I repeat, proud like I've never been before.
"You're fucked up," he insists. "Seriously, it's worrying."
"You kill people," I reply casually. "For very interesting reasons, actually. You'd be an amazing case for me to study—"
"Not even in your wildest dreams, psycho. You kill people to create."
"No one was killed for this." Maybe Nyx's innocence, but he doesn't need to know that.
I take my sheet back, shrugging as I fold it again and put it back in my pocket. "Has Jade raced yet?"
"She's going to take the winner of this one."
I barely hear him when my eyes catch someone in the crowd.
Wearing a short skirt and black stockings attached to a garter belt I can see peeking from underneath the material, with combat boots and a cropped purple hoodie, Nyx is making her way toward the front to watch the final stretch of the race.
She looks nothing like the girl dressing up in SFU uniforms when she's on our side of town.
She's more assured here, among people she doesn't fear will stab her in the back. And purple looks beautiful on her.
"I'll come," I tell Ethan. "I want to watch her race."
He cocks an eyebrow at me. "You know how I feel about you being near her. You're weird, and I don't like it."
"Well, I won't be too close since she'll be in a car, racing god knows how fast around the development."
"Whatever. This way."
We go through the crowd, coming out right by the front on the other side. Elliot, Jade's other boyfriend and Ethan's stepbrother, is standing with their girlfriend by her car. She's undoing her long curly hair from a thick ponytail and slides into the driver’s side.
"Isn't she just the bravest, most beautiful girl in the world?" Elliot says with a bright smile as he closes the door for her.
Ethan nods enthusiastically, eyes stuck on the window of the car. "She better not drive stupidly."
I can't help but roll my eyes. "It's an illegal street race."
But I'm already not listening to them anymore. I watch Nyx jump up and down as a car comes to the finish line, wooing with everyone clapping around her.
"Fucking great," Elliot mumbles. He taps Jade's window, and she rolls it down. "You're racing Chase."
Chase comes out of the car, wearing a smug smile, and when Nyx hurries to jump in his arms, he pushes her away, turning to the crowd to accept all the compliments from his friends.
She skipped rehearsing the violin and she dressed herself sexily for him, but he's too busy filling up his ego with ass-lickers to notice her?
She tucks her hair behind her ears, leaving only her cute bangs that always seem to bother her eyes a little, and smiles awkwardly at the people around them.
Who on this fucking planet would be stupid enough not to jump at the first chance to have Nyx's attention? Who wouldn't bask in the light she shines all around her?
Her eyes dart to her skirt, and she dusts it off, eyebrows scrunching.
Oh, she better not be wondering if she doesn't look good enough for him.
He finally turns to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and leaving a sloppy kiss on her lips before slapping her ass to make sure he ticks all the clichés of the ungrateful asshole boyfriend.
See, she keeps saying I'm a psycho, but the stupid fury and jealousy I feel right now is enough to classify me as an emotional mess.
Why the fuck is she letting him put his hands on her when she feels nothing for him?
When I could take care of her. When I make her orgasm and discover more about herself than he ever has.
For some fucking debt? She has so much to offer, and instead, he uses her as a housewife and cheerleader.
She has talent like no one else, fought to get to where she is, and that's what she accepts in return?
Enough of him putting his fucking hands on my muse.
He rolls his car back to the starting line, and I follow Ethan and Elliot as Jade drives hers there too. The look on Nyx's face when she sees me is priceless. I've never seen this mix of surprise, excitement, and anxiety in such a short time.
Chase notices me too. He’s only seen me once before, but that was enough to question his girlfriend about it. Enough for his fragile ego to wonder if she’d leave him for the rich, handsome musician who seems better than him.
I am.
So much better than him.
"Hi, Nyxie," I say casually, making sure he hears me calling her the nickname he uses for her.
As if me talking is proof that I'm really here and not a hallucination, her eyes widen, and she turns to Chase, back to me…and to him again.
"Erm," she hesitates, her cheeks hollowing as she bites on her tongue. And her eyes are back on me. "What are you doing here?"
I nod toward Jade's car. "Watching my friend's girlfriend race."
She crosses her arms over her chest, popping a hip and showing she's not impressed. "You have friends on the North Shore now? Coming to these races?"