Chapter 14
Fourteen
“You’d better not be asking me to revive Shank’s dead ass,” I grumbled, following Roberta out into the wings of the stage. “Because I refuse. I made that mistake once, and besides, Phillip would tan my hide if I even tried. As much as I might enjoy that, he’s probably right?—"
“It’s not that,” she interrupted. “Fuck Shank. I hope he’s rotting in hell.”
“Then what is it?” Nikolai asked, ambling behind me. The wings were dark; either Shank’s homemade makeshift bomb had killed the lights or someone had turned them off, probably Colt. I could barely see in front of me, but the acrid, stale smell of smoke lingered in the air and burned my eyes.
“The cops are here,” Roberta said, gesturing toward the EXIT sign that loomed in front of us. The lights weren’t illuminating it, so I could only just make out the white block letters. “Phillip and Benny are out there talking to them, but we agreed you guys probably shouldn’t be lingering inside when they come to investigate.”
“Let me guess—they’re leaving out the part about how I encountered Shank and provoked him to blow the place up.”
“Stormy, you provoked him?” Nikolai’s voice was quiet in the darkness, but I detected a hint of disappointment—or judgement.
“I mean, I didn’t like, poke him in the stomach and say ‘I dare you,’ but I wasn’t exactly nice to him,” I said guiltily. Why had I antagonized him? Why hadn’t I noticed what he was holding in his hand sooner? Maybe because I’d been too busy trading barbs with some washed-up, fake goth boy to pay attention to the very real threat in front of me. “I, um, I gave him a shove. Just to get him away from me. I didn’t realize he had a bomb. I’m sorry. I should have diffused the situation.”
“Ha ha. Diffused,” Roberta said in a dry voice, then pushed the exit open and held the door as Nikolai and I stepped outside onto the side ramp. “Even in times of crisis, you’ve got the puns.”
“It was an accident.”
“Sure.” She grinned at me and cuffed me on the ear. “Benny said he fixed you up. That right? My best girl okay now?”
“Since when was I your best girl?”
“Since you rescued me from my dad a week ago,” she said, and for a moment, her expression was sad. Then she perked up again. “And since I realized you’re as petty as I am. I need more girlfriends to gossip with, and I suspect you’ll talk shit with the best of them.”
“You would be correct on that score,” I said. “So where are we going?”
“Phillip said not to wait for him; he and the band are likely to be here a while. He’s got all sorts of shit to deal with—insurance, the cops, all of that. To say nothing of the crowd of fucking fans and reporters and Instagram influencers all currently hanging out in the front of the venue, waiting to descend on him like a mob. He said to drive you back to the motel or to your dad’s, wherever you want to go.” She grinned. “My marching orders were simply ‘get her the fuck away from here.’”
“That’s quite a vote of confidence from my lover,” I said.
“I’m pretty sure it is,” Nikolai said, giving me a brotherly nudge in the ribs, one of what I hoped would be many. He smiled at me. “He’s trying to protect you from all that, you knucklehead.”
“Where should we go, then?” I asked, winking at him. “You have seniority, after all.”
“Wherever you want to go,” he said affably, shoving his hands in the pocket of his JNCOs.
“I’m not deciding.”
“Me, either.”
“Fuck y’all,” Roberta said, reaching into her pocket and producing a Tootsie Roll pop. “I’ve still got a buzz from the show, and I have a cherry sucker, and I’ve got all day. I can wait y’all out. Don’t test me.” She unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it in her mouth, her expression pert. “So fess up. What’s going on with you two fools?”
I sighed. I raised my eyebrows in a silent question, and Nikolai’s mouth slacked a little bit. We could trust Roberta. We both knew it. I smiled shyly at Nikolai and turned to Roberta.
“Burt…I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is…my brother. Nikolai.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Her eyes went wide. The lollipop hung forgotten from her bottom lip, threatening to fall on the asphalt.
“It’s true,” I said. “You don’t remember from the trailer park?”
“I mean, of course I remember us all hanging out, and I remember you guys playing together some, but nothing unusual…” Her eyes widened even further and she shoved Nikolai in the shoulder. “You mean your mom…and Chad …”
He nodded slowly, his face the picture of shame. “Yeah, they were a thing. For years. Until she finally wised up and moved us the fuck out of that place.”
“Just in time,” I said softly, and Nikolai put an arm around my shoulder.
“Jesus Christ. Did we live in a soap opera or fucking what?” Roberta laughed.
“It isn’t funny. It’s sad, is what it is,” Nikolai said, but his mouth was turning up at the corners.
“It’s a Greek tragedy.” I nodded, smirking. “Except we ain’t Greek. We’re redneck orthodox.”
“I hate you,” Roberta said primly. She crunched down on her lollipop and stared at us, chewing. “So where the fuck are we going, siblings? I’m game for anywhere, as long as it’s not an attic.”
As Roberta’s SUV ran down the ramp and out of the parking deck, I could hear people shouting and chanting in the parking lot before we’d even rounded the corner. As we took a sharp turn toward the right and neared the venue, my eyes widened as I saw just how many people were milling around. There were so many they’d bled into the street and had all but stopped traffic completely.
A couple of traffic cops were doing their best to direct the flow of traffic, but it wasn’t doing much good. The people gathered outside were paying them very little attention, walking in front of cars, clogging up the road, seemingly oblivious that there were actual vehicles trying to move past.
As Roberta inched forward, they chanted, “PHI-LIP! PHI-LIP!”
“Holy shit,” I gasped, suddenly very grateful that Roberta’s windows were tinted and nobody could see me. Nikolai put a protective arm around my shoulders.
“See why he wanted you out of here?” he said.
“God, what are they even doing? Just like, waiting to see him?”
Roberta nodded. “A lot of these kids who were at the show. Some of them showed up after they heard about the explosion, and then you’ve got your usual vultures, the media, who all showed up as well. They’re all hoping to catch a glimpse of Phillip and see if he makes a statement or whatever.” She looked at me from the rearview mirror. “I doubt many of them know about Shank—that there’s a dead body backstage. They probably think it was a prank, or just some right-wing troll causing trouble.”
“It’s all my fault,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut, pressing a finger to my temple. My head was starting to hurt again. “If I’d just told security that I’d seen him instead of rushing in to confront him myself?—"
“Never mind that now,” Nikolai said. “There’s no sense crying over spilled…”—he smiled at me and cuffed my chin—“almond milk.”
“Take me to Phillip’s house,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself, unable to laugh at Nikolai’s joke. I felt sick with guilt, grief, and anxiety. “I just want to curl up in his bed and wait for him to get home.”
“Well, I’ll try, but it’s going to be a while before we get there,” Roberta said, tapping on the horn, though it would do no good. At least ten people stood directly in front of us, not moving at all. “And Phillip? Well, if you’re lucky, he might roll in sometime tomorrow afternoon. This is one hella clusterfuck.”