Chapter Twenty-Three
Be sure to tune into our livestream today to see US reunite and perform for the first time since our last tour! This livestream is to raise awareness for a purr-fect place with a great cause, click the link in our bio to learn more!
—The Usual Suspects [@OfficialUS]
It was livestream day.
Everything had come down to this. The café was abuzz with energy and anticipation—the kind that left jumbled knots in my stomach.
The lighting and mic crew were setting up for the show in two hours.
Amber was literally herding cats to keep them from being underfoot.
Mom was in a seat behind the counter, passing out cups of coffee.
After spending most of the morning fine-tuning their performance until it sounded like sheer perfection, the boys were taking a well-deserved break to . . .
“Actually, what are you doing?” I asked, eyeing the table where they’d arranged an array of cups filled with dubious-looking liquid.
“Juice or Dare,” Jake answered cryptically, bouncing a small ball in his hands.
I raised an eyebrow. “Juice or Dare?”
“It’s exactly like beer pong,” Aspen answered. “Except completely legal for us and thrice as evil.”
Phillip sighed and pulled out his phone. Aspen’s pinged.
Aspen beamed at me. “Phillip bet me five dollars I couldn’t work the word thrice into a normal conversation today.”
I hummed. “I’m not sure this constitutes as a normal conversation.”
“It’s what passes for normal when you’re one of us,” Leon informed me, before explaining the rules. “If your ball lands in your opponent’s cup, they have to drink what’s inside. If you miss, you have to complete a dare.”
I wrinkled my nose at the cups, trying to make out their contents. One I was pretty sure held tuna juice drained from a can in the supply cupboard, and another contained a mouthful of thick, goopy syrup.
I side-eyed the boys. “That’s disgusting.”
Jake blinked at me. “That’s the point.”
“So, isn’t Juice or Dare really just two dares?”
“Eh, schematics,” Aspen replied, before turning and giving Phillip a smug look. Phillip rolled his eyes and tapped on his phone, making Aspen’s chime again.
I took a step away from the table, hoping to avoid the splash zone.
I’d worn an outfit to fit today’s special occasion—a summer dress in dark brick-rose, and woven espadrilles I’d hand-dyed the canvas and ribbon straps to match.
For the first time in a while, I’d left my hair down so it fell over my shoulders.
“I doubt there’d be so many girls holding up KISS ME signs at your concerts if they knew what you guys drank before you went onstage,” I remarked, throwing one last skeptical look at the Cups of Doom.
“Hey,” Phillip protested, “we brush our teeth before we go on!”
“Yeah,” Aspen agreed. “We’re not heathens.”
He stared at Phillip expectantly. Phillip sighed down at his phone. “I wasn’t aware you actually knew what those words meant when I made that bet with you,” he grumbled.
“Anyway, Lucy,” Aspen continued as his phone chimed for a third time, “it’s my turn next, unless you want a go.”
Leon perked up. “Yeah, you should play with us. Jake told us that one story about you and the dunk tank at the school carnival.” Reverently, he deposited a small yellow ball into my hands. “You can be on my team.”
“Why should she be on your team?” Jake argued, crossing his arms.
“So you’re saying you’d rather Lucy be on my team?” Phillip goaded.
Jake glared. Aspen snickered.
“Thanks for the offers, but I’m not going to be on any of your teams,” I said. “No way am I downing any of that.”
“That’s why we offer the option of doing a dare,” Leon replied solemnly.
As if.
“It’s all yours, boys.”
I moved to avoid a line of crew members moving in boom mics, then tossed the ball over to Aspen.
The guys had been rehearsing so intensely, it made sense that they needed to do something silly to relax before the livestream.
But just because I understood why they needed to clear their heads didn’t mean I understood the way they did.
I stepped back beside Jake to watch the game unfold. But instead of keeping his eyes on the ball, I felt the unmistakable weight of Jake’s gaze on me instead.
“You’re staring,” I announced, before I even turned around.
“Sorry,” Jake said, even though I hadn’t wanted an apology. Or even an explanation. “It’s just . . . you sort of look like you did when we first met.”
That’s right. I’d had my hair down and been wearing a pink dress then too. Guess Jake was feeling nostalgic.
Someone sighed next to us. Deeply.
“What he means by that, Lucy,” Leon said, rolling his eyes and inserting himself into the conversation, “is that you look pretty.”
Jake frowned. “Was that not what I said?”
“Wait, hold on.” I tilted my head quizzically toward Jake. “You—”
“Idiot!”
Jake and I started at the sudden admonishment, glancing toward Phillip.
Who was, apparently, talking to Aspen.
“Remember not to overshoot again,” Phillip warned.
“Remember not to tell me what to do,” Aspen chirped back.
“No, really, Phillip’s right, your arm’s wrong,” Leon insisted, jumping in and tugging Aspen’s elbow forward. “You’re going to throw it too far again—”
“Hey, get off!”
“Leon’s wrong too,” Phillip announced, joining his two play-fighting bandmates.
I rolled my eyes. The scene reminded me of when we’d get a batch of kittens and they’d start a random scuffle that would end with them all piled on top of each other in the middle of the walkway.
Except with kittens, I could just pick one up in my hands, tell them no, and safely deposit them in the other room.
“It’s in the wrist. Here, let me show you—”
“Oh, come on.”
The three tussled, all grabbing for the ball and not paying attention to their surroundings.
None of them noticed a crew member walking through the doorway with a tall, heavy light.
“Guys,” I cautioned, nervously watching as the light swung around. “Watch out.”
Were they even listening? Jake glanced over at me, taking in my anxious expression, and moved to stop them.
“Guys,” I tried again. “Don’t throw that yet, you need to—”
But I was too late.
So was Jake.
In the middle of wrestling, the ball flew loose, ricocheting off the table so hard that it flew up into the air again—and right under the passing crew member’s foot.
The crew member lost his balance, careening dangerously close to where Amber had gathered the cats. Horrified, I watched as the towering metal lights in his arms became too hard to control and began tipping out of his grasp.
Fearful, the cats below fled.
Except for one.
Bunny was still in the light’s path. Eyes wide with fright, she shakily hopped, desperately trying to get off her bed and out of the way. But her three remaining paws sunk too deep into the plush pillow, and in her distress, she moved jerkily, stumbling and tipping over.
She wasn’t going to get out of the way in time.
It’d be worse than how she’d been hurt before she came here.
That couldn’t happen.
My thoughts were spinning and frantic, like a DJ’s record scratch jumbling up the tracks.
Without hesitating, I took off, flying across the tile, and flinging myself in between the light and Bunny.
I spun my back toward the falling metal, scooping Bunny up and holding her protectively against my chest. My muscles tightened and my eyes squeezed shut as I waited for the metal to hit me.
But it didn’t.
A second passed. Then two. Shouldn’t the light have fallen on me by now?
Cautiously, I uncurled, turning to see what happened.
Jake stood behind me, back against mine, his arms out in front of him, holding up the lights.
My heart thudded.
While I dived in front of Bunny to keep her safe, Jake must have followed at my heels and thrown himself in front of the lights to protect me. But how did he catch the lights like that? They were so heavy and coming down so fast; wouldn’t they have hurt him?
“Jake?” I questioned, reaching out to touch his arm. “Are you—”
Jake let out a hiss of pain, interrupting—and unintentionally answering—my question. He let the lights clatter to the floor.
Then he let out a shaky breath and gripped his left wrist.