Twenty Four - Asher
Something… is wrong. Something feels out of fucking whack. If you asked me what, though. I have no fucking clue. An urgent alarm desperately claws at the back of my mind, nagging at me. For some fucking reason, and I can’t put my finger on it. Everyone I love sits before me, de-stressing after our third show in a row. River has put us through the fucking ringer, with gigs almost every night this week, exhausting us to the max. But it’s so damn worth it. Our rock star dreams rest at the tips of our fingers, finally in grasp.
“That show was badass!” Rad says with a grin, guzzling down a bottle of water twenty minutes after the performance.
Sweat pours from every inch of his glistening body, dripping off the long ends of his mullet. He groans, standing in front of the oscillating fan, opening the fly of his jeans.
“For the love of God, please keep your dick in your pants,” I groan with exhaustion, leaning against the wall for support.
“The little Rads are hot as hell! I have swamp dick—Swamp. Dick, Asher. They’re basically cooking in my jeans. My chestnuts are roasting! So, unless I want cooked swimmers, I need to cool them off,” Rad scoffs at me, pulling his jeans and boxers down, exposing himself for the fucking world to see. “Ah, that’s the stuff right there,” he mumbles, wiggling his ass around and allowing the air to flow to his fucking flapping dick blowing in the breeze.
“Your ass is disgusting,” Kieran barks, slapping a hand across his butt cheek, rippling the skin, and leaving an angry red welt behind on his pasty skin.
“Oh, baby! Do it again!” Rad howls, locking his hands behind his head. “Ah, this is freedom,” he groans with relief, arching his back.
“How the hell did we get to this?” I mumble, closing my eyes, so I don’t have to stare at his dimply ass while sliding down the wall. I swear the dude can’t keep his pants on to save his life. Every chance he gets, he drops trou and lets his dick fly free. Must be nice to have no restraints. But someone has to keep him in line.
We’ve been dead on our feet since we walked backstage into the darkened space dedicated to the talent. It’s small, shabby, and fucking gross. Shifting my weight, my nose wrinkles when my pants stick to the floor. Don’t they ever clean this place? Shit. Images of River frantically cleaning every inch of this place, runs through my mind. Hell, she probably hasn’t been back here to clean, because she’s working her life away and killing herself here.
Taking a deep breath, I revel in the surrounding nothingness—no noises, shouting crowd, and most importantly, no groupies shoving their titties in our faces. This moment of silence gives us time to unwind after such a killer performance. All these gigs are starting to wear us down, but we don’t have time to stop. We’re persevering and fucking rocking this shit before we hit enter and submit our talent for the most prestigious record company in the US. In the future, this could be our life. Performance after performance. City after fucking city on a tour bus filled with Rad’s naked ass. Okay, maybe not that. Shivers of disgust roll through me, envisioning him running naked everywhere. And now I need bleach for my brain.
“If I never have to see your dick again, it’d be a good day,” Callum murmurs, tossing his head back and sighing with a grin.
“Agreed,” Kieran snaps, running a towel over his face and neck, soaking up the sweat dripping down his skin, grinding his teeth. He closes his eyes, taking several deep breaths, trying to reign in his after-performance anger. I swear it’s what got us into this whole debacle, anyway.
If he hadn’t banged River, well—we wouldn’t be here or on our way to California. Sure, we could have gotten someone else to record our videos or gotten us more gigs. River’s been a saint through this whole thing—a dangerous saint, leading us down a path we can’t come back from. Doubt seeps into my mind, infecting my runaway thoughts with insidious ideas. Some days I wonder if we’re taking the right road with her. Looking around the room, I gaze at the faces of my brothers’. Happiness radiates from every inch of them. But is it from our performance? Or the woman who supplied us with this opportunity? Because of her, we’re here. One question repeats in my mind over and over again. Do we actually want to bring her to California? Since River came into the picture, our band dynamic has drastically changed. But for the good? Or bad? How much more damage can she inflict before we implode and throw our dreams away?
Internally, I groan, running a hand down my face. River brings nothing but a whirl of confusion, storming inside me and pulling me in different directions. She’s this… annoying gnat, yet beautiful little brat who I want to choke… with my cock so she can’t utter another witty remark. She’s… getting way too into our heads—especially mine.
The crowd beyond the black curtain’s loud chatter slowly fades away into nothing but crickets. Looking at my phone, I note it’s almost closing time. Just on cue, the bubbly little bartender’s voice rings through the system, telling everyone to get the fuck out, and they comply. Soon, we’re left in comfortable silence. But in the quiet, something still nags the back of my mind, and looking around, I notice the missing piece who trails after us like a desperate groupie—River.
“I swear to God, bitch, if you’re back here sucking dick,” shouts Ode, the bubbly bartender, right before she rips open the curtain and sticks her head in with a frown. “Well, not sucking dick,” she says, shaking her head. “But someone certainly has their hairy ass out,” she quips, looking the room over. “You four seen your girlfriend?” she asks, raising a brow.
Rad grins, pulling up his boxers and pants and turning around. “I’m glad someone else finally admits that she’s my girlfriend!” he says with way too much enthusiasm. “But wait. Where is River?” he asks, making my fucking heart skip a beat.
Something is wrong… Something is off, and it smacks me in the damn face. River isn’t here to annoy me.
“That’s what I’m fucking asking. Come out, come out wherever you are, bitch!” she yells jokingly, but I see the worry sitting behind her dark eyes as they crinkle when she doesn’t get an answer. Her fingers tighten into fists as her eyes flash around the room, and she huffs. “I haven’t seen her since she took the trash out. I swore I saw her come back in…” she trails off, looking toward the single window blocked out by a blackout curtain, only letting a sliver of light come through the split down the middle.
“What do you mean she went outside at one in the fucking morning to dump the trash?” Kieran barks, jumping to his fucking feet like a mad dog with his nostrils flaring as he marches toward her. The only thing stopping him is my hand on his heaving chest.
“Cool your shit,” I hiss through clenched teeth, side-eyeing him. “You’re in—fuck shit up and ask questions later—mode right now.”
“I said what I said. River is a big girl despite you treating her like a fucking baby. She did what she always does every night. You’d all probably shit your pants if you knew she’s walked home at three in the morning more times than I can count. You all know better than I do. That woman does whatever the fuck she wants to and…” Ode pales when a light flashes between the sliver of the curtain, lighting the room up in reds and blues. “What the fuck!” She shrieks with urgency, marching toward the side door, and slams out of it with a cry.
Kieran doesn’t waste a single moment stomping out the door after her. It isn’t until I hear the roar of his anger do I pile out the door with Callum and Rad on my tail. Only, we don’t make it too far and come to an abrupt stop, freezing on the spot. Every muscle in my body locks tight. My eyes dart around, taking in the scene with a critical eye.
Numerous police officers stalk the alleyway with their heads down, moving up and down with critical eyes. One points to the ground, shaking his head as they follow the trail. On further inspection, my breath leaves my lungs and I’m left gasping for oxygen. Two officers walk along a dark red trail of blood leading out of the alley and onto the street. And that’s where I see him, cowering in the shadows with a pale face and vacant expression—fucking Donavan Drake.
“What the fuck?” I murmur with outrage, watching with wide, horrified eyes as the scene gets worse and worse by the second.
“Oh-oh no,” Callum cries out in a quivering voice. Covering his mouth, Callum frantically shakes his head and forces his eyes closed—removing himself from the situation mentally.
“It’ll be okay, Cal,” Rad murmurs through a crack in his voice with the reassurance I’m sure he doesn’t feel. Slowly, he rubs circles on Callum’s back in a soothing manner, whispering barely audible words, hoping to soothe his grief.
Turning Callum, so his back is to the scene, Rad consoles him through his anguish. With shaky hands, Callum rips his earbuds from his pocket and forces them in his ears, shaking in Rad’s embrace. With every fiber of his being, I know he wants to run to her and ensure her safety. He wants to hold her against his chest and heal her wounds. But he also doesn’t want to remember the scene. He doesn’t want it seared into his memory, where he can recall it for eternity—the blood, the fucking carnage of it all.
My aching heart fucking sinks into my gut, swallowed by the churning acid threatening to obliterate it into pieces. EMTs surround her body. Her fucking body! Frantically checking her pulse and noting the injuries with two police officers who take notes.
Deep red dripping blood catches my eye first, splattered like fucking spaghetti sauce on the white walls. There it is all around her unmoving body laid out on the pavement. And on her face. Her fucking hands gleam in it. Bright red scratches split the skin of her shins and knees, working toward her thighs where her goddamn shorts button was popped open, exposing the front of her panties. My stomach churns more, burning the back of my throat with bile, when the police officers finally notice it too.
If someone touched her, I’ll fucking bury them so deep no one will find the evidence.
“You son of a bitch!” Kieran wails before I even think about catching him by the shirt and stopping him from drowning in his emotions and acting without thinking. All the pent-up, after-performance rage rushes through his system and infects him with violence.
I’m a frozen mass of hysterics when Kieran slams his vicious fist straight into Van’s face over and over again, knocking them to the ground in front of two police officers, watching their every move. Great. This is just fucking great. The last thing we need is that idiot getting into trouble or worse, arrested.
“It wasn’t me!” Van cries, trying to heave a fist into the side of Kieran’s face, but fails. Kieran is way too gone, sinking into the abyss of his blacked-out anger like it’s overpowered and taken him over. “It wasn’t me! I found her!” Van wails, catching Kieran in the side of the jaw and knocking him on the ground.
“Stand down!” Someone shouts in Kieran’s direction, but he doesn’t pay them any attention.
Kieran grunts, rolling onto the pavement with a snarl and jumping to his feet. He’s like a fucking lion with a blood scent stalking toward Van, who jumps to his shaky as fuck feet, staring at Kieran like he’s finally gotten the idea of who he’s up against. A fucking animal is who. And if I don’t jump in and save his stupid ass, he’ll be dead before the cops can subdue my foolish brother.
“Kieran!” I bark, running toward him at full speed, slamming into him. My finger curls in his shirt, forcefully turning him until I back him up against the brick wall. “Knock it the fuck off! They’re going to take you to fucking jail for suspicion and fucking assault!” I growl through clenched teeth, shaking him.
Too fucking late.
He barks out a humorless laugh, glaring in Van’s direction as the cop approaches slowly with his hand on his gun, hanging from his hip.
“Stand down,” he barks again, putting a placating hand out, trying to ease the tension between Kieran and Van. “I need you to turn around and face the wall. I’m detaining you.” There’s no room for arguments in his voice, glaring at us.
Another officer approaches Van and his fucked up and bleeding face with apprehension, checking over his wounds with a careful eye. His hand rests on his hip, shifting away from Van with heavy suspicions. Leaning in, he nods when Van speaks, making me wonder what words he’s poisoning the police with. Van points our way, shaking his head and dropping his arm when the officer narrows his eyes at us. More words are exchanged, and the officer begins documenting every word Van says and hands him a card. Most likely, telling him to call if he thinks of anything else.
“Son,” the officer barks again. “Turn and face the wall,” he growls, stepping even closer to Kieran, ready to pounce on him if he doesn’t comply with his words.
“Turn around, you fucking idiot,” I hiss, putting my forehead against his. “We’ll find out what the fuck happened. But now you’ve truly outdone yourself. I’ll get to the bottom of why the fuck Van’s here.”
“Go with her,” he pleads, slightly slumping against the wall. Tears burn the back of his eyes, glazing them over when River’s unmoving body is loaded onto the stretcher and is strapped down for safe travels.
Turmoil takes over my foggy brain, watching as her limp body jostles with their movements as they guide the stretcher toward the open ambulance. People shout, and noise fills the alleyway, but my thumping heart blocks it out. My fingers curl into fists, wanting to march over and ease River’s pain. She doesn’t have to shout or scream or even be conscious for me to see the bleeding wounds marking up her face.
Kieran’s fingers curl again, watching with an intense glare when the ambulance takes off with none of us inside. When she wakes up from the slumber some asshole put her into, she’ll be alone in the hospital, wondering what the hell happened and why she’s there, of all places. And then to realize someone knocked her around and tried to get into her fucking panties when she wasn’t awake. FUCK! Every molecule in my body wants to hitch a ride with the ambulance, hold her hand, and fucking comfort her until she wakes up in my arms.
Huffing several breaths to calm myself down, I eye Van, who’s suspect as fuck. Not for a second do I believe that stalking mother fucker had nothing to do with this. He was here. But why? All night I watched the crowd for signs of that slimy snake and came up empty-handed. He’s there every fucking night. So, what was that dickhead up to? And why did he show up in the same place River was hurt? Yeah, this place stinks of his doing, and I’m going to find out every fucking thing I can.
“Get on the ground,” the same officer repeats with patience, eyeing Kieran with a commanding eye.
From here, I can tell he doesn’t want to throw Kieran down to the ground himself, but whatever Van told them has him on edge. His fingers squeeze his gun at his hip again, anxious to pull it out and light my brother up. But he holds back, possibly knowing who we belong to—Nigel Montgomery. Sure, to the naked eye, my stupid brother pounced on Van unprovoked. In their eyes only. To me, my brother pounced on him to get even for fucking with River for so damn long. And he deserved every hit in the face. Plus, so much fucking more. No matter the consequences, I’ll sort this out entire fucking situation.
“Do what they fucking say. We don’t need Nigel finding out about your fuck up!” I growl, throwing Kieran into the wall and watching helplessly as they cuff his hands behind his back, hauling him between two police officers.
“You see anything?” Another officer approaches with apprehension, staring between me and Callum and Rad, who huddle close with fear crossing their faces.
“No. Where are they taking her?” Rad rasps with tears streaming down his pale cheeks. “She’s our girlfriend. We had just walked out here when we saw the lights. Her friend said she had just taken out the trash.” He shakes his head, sniffling.
“We didn’t see anything. As my friend said, we ran out here when we saw the lights. We were playing in Dead End for over an hour,” I say with a sharp nod, refusing to admit anything about my stupid brother and his moronic anger issues.
“And your friend?” the officer asks, pointing to Kieran, who begrudgingly lowers his head and climbs into the back of the cop’s car without fanfare.
I scrub a hand down my face. “An overprotective boyfriend with a chip on his damn shoulder,” I gripe, trying as best as I can to say my words carefully. The last thing I need to do is implicate that asshole into anything further.
The cop nods, turning and radioing the information we relayed, and begins writing our names and checking out our fists for confirmation we had no part in the attack. After he’s done a thorough job of talking to us and gathering information, he finally cracks where they’re taking River.
“They’re taking her to Central Memorial Hospital,” he says as he shoves his notebook into his pocket.
“Any news on her condition?” I ask, but he shakes his head with regret brimming in his eyes.
“Alive and unconscious. That’s all I can say,” the cop says, waltzing away from us and observing the scene with the three other officers standing in a semi-circle around the blood-soaked pavement, talking in low tones.
“Take me to the hospital with you,” Ode says, popping out of nowhere with tears flowing from her eyes. “TAKE ME!” she shouts through her emotions, earning a side hug from Rad. He whispers something in her ear, and her shoulders sag.
“Let’s go,” I grumble with a sigh, worrying about the girl floating in an ambulance toward the hospital and the man in the back of a cop car for finally beating the tar out of Van—the stupid idiot who can’t seem to let go.
“You two go to the damn hospital and monitor River. I have to bail out my stupid brother,” I say through gritted teeth. “Take me home first? Gotta grab the damn Tahoe.”
“Take some of our saved band money if you have to,” Rad says, leading Ode into the backseat of the Tahoe and shutting the door. “It’s in the house.” I nod, remembering the place where we hid all our savings.
“Yeah,” I gripe, jumping into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll do that.”
The entire ride home, listening to Ode cry in the backseat, the scene plays over and over in my head. We went from zero to a million in five seconds flat. Now, I have a brother who sits in jail. Another brother who won’t listen to our words without music in his ears and tears in his eyes. Another brother who, as we speak, cries hysterically as he steers the car along the road, heading to the hospital. And at the center of it all, a broken girl who they’ve all fallen head over heels in love with—me included.
Fuck.