Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
MADDEN
G-Eazy pumps loudly through the speakers, Avery’s house filled to the brim with Legacy privilege. Money, power, and pride that you can’t deny.
I’m not sure why I even come to these things.
Sure I am, I shake my head. Her.
It’s the same outcome every time. I show up. She stares at me, and I can’t keep my eyes off her. We don’t speak to each other, and her arms are always draped around Carson’s neck. Her eyes, though, are on me. Tonight is different. There’s no Carson.
I glance around at the expensive art on the walls and the tile floors that look like marble. Wealth is what runs Legacy Bay, the school, the community, and what it comes down to is who has the most money.
Everything has a price, and everyone can be bought.
That can be troublesome for a kid like me, dumped on the wrong side of the tracks.
I played ball in the town over from Legacy Bay.
The best shortstop in three counties, and the boosters of Legacy, they paid the right price.
They set us up pretty nice here, but it can be stripped away if I give it up.
I could care less about baseball or this town, but I don’t want my mom to have to go back.
She has a good job here at the police station, even a few friends. But I haven’t forgotten that she worked double shifts at the bar just two years ago trying to pay for our next meal. I’ve seen enough yellow eviction papers taped to our apartment doors to last a lifetime.
So I show up. To games, to practice, to these stupid parties. For my mom. Really, she deserves so much more than this, and I plan to get it for her. If it’s through baseball or writing songs and selling them, I will make sure she’s taken care of.
A roar of laughter comes from the kitchen, piquing my curiosity. I drop my empty cup in the trash and turn the corner to find Nash standing on the counter, a sea of people surrounding him.
His words are slurred and I can barely even understand him. I watch as Avery attempts to pull him down. Nash jerks his arm from her grip and his voice gets louder, “Avery, you just shut up,” he slurs. “This is your fault!”
He pushes her away too hard, her back slamming against the cabinets.
What is he talking about? I close the gap between us, yanking Nash down off the counter, “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?”
He is so drunk he isn’t fighting me, but he’s a dead weight and pretty hard to drag out by myself. Somehow, I manage to get him outside on the pool deck, and at this point, he’s passed out.
Avery appears in the doorway, shaking her head, “I better call Carson.” She turns away, pulling her phone from her back pocket, the back of her white halter top stained with blood.
My eyes are trained on her curves, her lips moving. The way she pushes her hair behind her ear, casually glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching, every little mannerism I’ve memorized over the past two years.
I reach out to her, rubbing my thumb over her back, causing her breath to catch as she turns to me, “Okay, bye.”
She hangs up, tilting her brown eyes up to me.
“You’re bleeding,” I acknowledge.
Her eyes don’t waver, and she doesn’t even blink. It’s like the air shifts between us. I pull up the back of her shirt, brushing my thumb over the cut.
“The handle must’ve got me.”
Damn it, Nash.
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s under the bathroom sink, I think.”
I look to Nash, who’s slumped over on the lounge chair by the pool. “You better stay with him so his dumbass doesn’t drown. I’ll get it.”
She nods, pacing the space next to him. Visibly upset.
After searching a couple of bathrooms, I open the door to a half bath near the kitchen and find the kit.
When I make it back outside, Carson and Crew are here, carrying Nash to Carson’s truck.
Avery, who hasn’t said much, tosses Nash’s hat roughly into the backseat.
Carson tries to talk to her, but she turns away.
Then he looks over at me and to the first aid kit in my hand.
“Avie, you’re bleeding.”
I roll my eyes. No shit, Sherlock. Hence, the first aid kit.
His eyes come back to me, a hateful glare, “What happened, Madden!”
I drop the kit to the chair, “What? You think I did this?”
Avery steps in front of me, sensing the tension between us. I don’t have a problem with Carson, but I do if he thinks I would ever hurt Avery.
“Carson, you should go,” her voice breaks. Carson glances back at his truck to Nash, then back at Avery and me.
“If you so much as laid a finger on her,” he warns.
I step to him, my heart beating faster than it ever has when I feel her palm press against my chest. Her eyes beg me not to cause a scene.
I yank away from her to hide my feelings, taking a few steps toward the pool before I hear Carson’s truck pull away. Avery picks up the first aid kit and begins shuffling through it for a band-aid.
“Here, let me.”
Slipping the bandaid from the wrapper, I lift her shirt, placing it over the small cut. It’s tiny but deep and probably needs a stitch. My eyes trail over her skin, where my body screams, bad; hers is delicate. Her hair hangs in waves down her back, long and dark.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Sorry about Carson.”
“Don’t do that,” I snap. “Don’t make excuses for him.”
“I just, well he’s—”
“Is it worth it?” I interrupt, smoothing her shirt back down. “Being invisible to him just so you aren’t invisible to everyone else?”
She looks down at her feet, “It’s complicated.”
I smile, pulling my cigarettes from my back pocket, lighting one up, a nervous tick. One I’ve had since I was thirteen. “No, It’s simple.”
She yanks the cigarette from my hand, stomping it out on her pool deck, “Those are so bad for you.”
I chuckle sarcastically, “So is pretending to like someone for fame and comments.”
She bangs her shoulder into mine as she pushes past me, stomping away.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t turn around to watch her leave.