Chapter 11 #2
He follows me to my room. “Rumor! Stop it this instant!”
“Or what?” I whip around to face him. “You’ll throw a twenty-pound bookend at my head hoping to kill me?”
“I did not—” He stops and takes a breath. “I did not throw it at her. And I don’t need to explain my behavior to you. You’re a child and I’m the adult in charge of your care. You don’t have to like my rules, but you are going to follow them.”
“Like hell I am.” I storm to my room and slam the door.
Who does Brock think he is? He can’t tell me when I can come and go. And I’m not letting him make rules for me that are different than the rules my cousins have to follow. I bet they don’t even have rules. If they did, they’d never follow them.
I have to get out of here. I can’t even look at Brock right now. I’m so freaking angry.
Grabbing my new phone and the cash I took from Brock’s office, I hurry out of my room and head to the door.
“Rumor, where are you going?” Brock yells from the hall. I hear his shoes clicking on the floor, going faster when I open the front door. “Rumor, get back here!”
“Go to hell!” I yell before slamming the door behind me.
My knee still hurts, but I take off running, afraid that if I don’t, Brock will come out and stop me. When I look back, I don’t see him.
When I’m far enough down the street, I slow down to a walk. I get out my phone to text Jackson but realize I don’t have his number. He said I could just stop by. He never said I had to call first.
His driveway is really long, surrounded by tall shrubs on both sides. His house is enormous. It looks bigger outside than it does in. The inside has a lot of wasted space because of the two-story ceilings in the entry and living room.
I ring the bell and wait. After a minute, I ring the bell again. What if he’s not home? What am I going to do? I can’t go back to the house. I’ll just end up fighting with Brock.
There’s a security camera at the top of the door, aimed down at my face. I look up at it and say, “Jackson, if you’re there, open the door. I don’t have to stay. I just wanted to give you your money.”
There’s no response. He must not be home. Dammit!
As I turn to leave, I hear the door open.
“Rumor?”
I turn around and see Jackson in workout shorts and no shirt. His hair’s messed up like he just got out of bed.
“Were you sleeping?” I ask, trying not to look at his chest. And those abs. Seriously, when did I suddenly like muscles? When I used to see guys with muscles, it didn’t do anything for me. But I see Jackson, and suddenly my hormones go into overdrive.
“I just needed a quick nap,” he says, rubbing his jaw. It’s covered in a thick layer of stubble, making him look a lot older than seventeen. If I didn’t know his age, I’d guess he was in his early twenties.
“Did you hear me on the speaker?” I ask, pointing to the security camera.
“I don’t have it turned on.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t have to stay. I just came to drop off your money.”
“How’d you get it so fast?”
“I took it from Brock. I took it without asking and he accused me of stealing. We had a big fight and . . .” I look down the street.
“You need a place to hang out.”
I look back at him. “Yeah. But I can just walk around the neighborhood. I didn’t know you were sleeping.”
He steps aside. “Come on in.
“You sure?”
“You can’t walk the neighborhood with a busted-up knee.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
When I head inside, I hear music playing from down the hall.
“Is that classical?” I ask.
“I use it to sleep.” He walks down the hall to the kitchen. “When I was younger, we didn’t have a TV. My parents would play classical music instead. I hated it. It always put me to sleep. Now I use that to my advantage when I can’t sleep.”
“You didn’t have a TV? Doesn’t your dad make TV shows?”
“He started out in TV but now he only does movies. It’s actually common for people in the industry to not watch TV.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
He opens the fridge. “Want a soda?”
I race over to him. “You have soda?”
“Take whatever you want.” He steps aside, letting me see inside his fridge. He has cans of soda and a few bottles of beer.
“Beer?” I say, smiling at him.
He shrugs. “I’m technically an adult.”
“You’re still not old enough to buy beer.”
“I still buy it.” He reaches across me to grab a banana. “Never even get carded. People think I’m in my twenties.”
“You do look really old,” I say, taking a can of soda.
“I look old?” he asks, sounding disappointed.
I laugh. “Not old in a bad way. I meant old like a college guy. You don’t look like a high school guy. You’re too big. Most high school guys are scrawny. Except Braden. He’s big too but you’re even bigger than him. Do you work out all the time?”
“I didn’t use to, but I’ve stepped it up the past couple years.” He bites off a third of the banana. “I work with a personal trainer and nutritionist.”
“And she lets you eat this?” I ask, pulling a package of bacon from the fridge.
“It’s a he, and yes, he lets me eat what I want as long as I’m getting enough protein.” He points to the fridge. “You sure you don’t want anything?”
“I’m still full from breakfast.” I close the fridge door. “Hey, if you see my uncle don’t tell him we were out this morning. I made up this story about going on a walk and dropping my phone in a storm drain.”
“Good idea.”
“Dropping my phone in a storm drain?” I joke.
“Not telling your uncle the truth.”
“Why?”
He tosses his banana peel in the trash. “Your uncle and I don’t get along.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
“I don’t want to get into it.”
“Why do you keep doing that?” I ask, opening my soda.
“Doing what?”
“Dropping little hints about something and then not explaining what you mean. It’s really annoying.”
“Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know this shit.”
“I’d rather you tell me. I don’t like not knowing what’s going on.”
“You’re only here for the school year, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So don’t get involved in it. Just lay low, get through school, and get the hell out of here.”
“Don’t get involved in what? What are you talking about?”
“The shit that happens at Twisted Pine.”
I don’t bother asking what he means because I’m sure he’ll just give me another cryptic answer that’ll lead to even more questions.
He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m gonna go take a shower. You can go out back by the pool if you want. Or hang out here and watch TV.”
While he’s showering, I go into the living room and check my phone. No messages from Axl. He must still be at work, but why didn’t he call me during his break?
I call his phone. It goes straight to voicemail, which means he’s on the phone with someone else. Is it Senna? Would he really call her and not me?
This is really pissing me off. I call Senna’s phone.
She answers on the first ring. “Hey, Rumor.”
“Hey. Can you talk or are you busy?”
“I’m just hanging out at home, waiting for my sister. We’re going shopping later. How’s California?”
“Sunny.”
She laughs. “I’d take the sun. It’s raining here.”
“How was the concert last night?”
“Good. They weren’t the greatest band, but I knew the guitarist and promised him I’d go.”
“Were you guys out late?”
“We got home around three.”
This is stupid. Why did I call her? If she’s screwing around with Axl, she’s not going to fess up and tell me.
“I feel really bad for you and Axl,” she says.
“Why?”
“Being so far apart? I couldn’t do it. I miss JT like crazy when he’s gone for just a couple days.”
“JT?”
“My boyfriend. We met at a concert. He plays lead guitar in a band. He’s really good.”
If she has a boyfriend, she’s not interested in Axl. Why did my mind even go there? I need to stop doing this. I trust Axl. And I know Senna wouldn’t try to take him from me. So why do I keep thinking something’s going on?