Chapter 5
MICHELLE: QUIET RIOT
The music started, and it was loud. Not “turn it down a notch” loud—like war-zone loud.
There was no slow build. One second it was quiet; the next I was standing inside a speaker.
Maybe that was for the best because it kept me from overanalyzing the fact that Scott had just kissed me.
It was so unexpected… so unapologetic. I’d been flirting, sure, but boys in my world were trained to ask first. Scott hadn’t.
He’d just gone for it, and somehow that made it more exciting.
I felt truly wanted. Not as a prize or a Carver. Just me.
The pounding drums rattled the floor Charlie had died on.
If the poor man’s ghost was hanging around, god help him.
Then came the growls. Mad-dog snarls into the microphone, and since Scott wasn’t on stage yet, I had to assume they were coming from him.
The barking grew louder and more unhinged with every woof.
My heart sank. Oh, no. Maybe he wasn’t going to blow my mind after all. And the worst part? I wanted him to.
The guitarist ripped into a solo, and the crowd erupted.
Arms shot into the air, heads whipped, bodies slammed together in some ritual they all seemed to understand but me.
A mosh pit materialized in the center of the room, and I froze in place, suddenly regretting every reckless choice that had led me here.
This was it. I was going to be crushed to death in this condemned house.
Me and Charlie, roommates in hell. I just prayed they tossed some Chanel into my chalk line.
Then he appeared. The roar shifted, doubling, like the crowd had been holding its breath for him.
Scott took his spot at center stage, his face half-shadowed beneath the flickering lights.
His stance was wide and grounded, like the stage existed solely to prop him up.
His fingers curled around the microphone, muscles flexing as he lifted it to his lips… and screamed.
So much screaming.
Broken only by fragments of lyrics.
I stood stunned and horrified, my ears bleeding, but when I looked around, I saw the audience wasn’t just enduring the madness, they were worshiping it, headbanging with wild abandon.
One girl clutched her chest and howled at the moon.
That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t noise to them, it was release.
Belonging. Freedom. The same kind of freedom I used to feel behind a piano… before my mother made me hate it.
And there was Scott, in the center of it all, displaying the same confidence he’d shown when stealing my kiss.
There was something about his stage presence—something special that couldn’t be bought.
He had the perfect trifecta of looks, charisma, and a cool that lasted for days.
And it wasn’t just me. Scott owned the crowd, every eye trained on him.
I wasn’t into heavy metal. Not even a little. But I couldn’t look away.
Then, without warning, the music softened and stripped itself down to just Scott, and he began to sing.
His voice came through raw and imperfect, wrapped in a melody that sank straight into me.
Oh, my love. Don’t let go. I can’t breathe alone.
His voice was stripped of polish and restraint.
It wasn’t perfect. Not even close. But it was beautiful.
Scott made good on his promise: he blew me away.
Midway through his second song, Scott’s eyes found me—no wink, no smirk—just locked on mine like I was the only one in the room, and before I could think better of it, my feet were already moving, edging me closer to the stage.
People bumped into me, a beer splashed nearby, and a headbanger whipped his greasy hair an inch from my face.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
This wasn’t my world, but in that moment, I wanted it to be.
I was tired of safe. This was what I’d come for—Scott and me, and a night I could lie about later.
Wolfie made his appearance during song number five.
He flew over our heads, gaining speed as he neared the stage.
Scott turned, arms out, holding his ground.
And then moments before impact, he dove to the floor.
The beat dropped to a slow, steady heartbeat, and then Scott rose to his knees and sang as he crawled back to the center like a dog in heat.
I wasn’t sure what the hell I was watching, but I liked it.
Especially when our eyes met again and he beckoned me forward.
I took one tentative step; then two. Scott leaned in, sweat dripping from his golden skin.
I held my breath, the intense moment knocking the wind out of me.
He stuck his tongue out and mimed licking me.
That smirk on his face! Our inside joke came alive, and I laughed without restraint, feeling a lightness that I hadn’t in years.
Was this what it meant to live for yourself?
Maybe my sister wasn’t reckless and misguided.
Maybe she’d cracked the code. Was that what this night was for me?
If so, I couldn’t let it go to waste. I grabbed Scott’s shoulders and, in a moment that would surely give my mother a coronary, I stuck my tongue out… and licked his face.
I didn’t hear the banging on the door. No one inside Charlie’s lair did, not until we were midway through song number seven and the boards nailed across the entrance began to splinter.
Someone yelled Cop! and the music screeched to a halt.
I didn’t know to be worried. Police officers were nothing to fear in my world.
But the look on Scott’s face told me they were in his.
He crouched and extended a hand. I grabbed it, and he hauled me up onto the stage like I weighed nothing. One board went flying off the door.
Scott leaned in close, projecting over the chaos. “Behind the stage. See the black sheet with the demon eyes spray-painted on it? There’s a hole in the wall. Sweep the sheet aside and crawl out. Wait for me behind Anita Hall’s plot. It’s the big diamond-shaped tomb in the middle of the graveyard.”
“I’m not hiding behind the tomb where you lost your virginity.”
A grin broke across his face even as the crowd scattered. “Relax. Anita’s tomb was my first kiss. Virginity went down in the cab of my truck.”
“Still.”
“Fine. Toward the back, near the fountain, look for the gravestone with the star on top. It sticks up higher than the rest. Meet me there.”
“Oh, boy.” I arched a brow. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve done behind the star.”
“Michelle. Less chatter.” His hand straightened on my waist. “If I’m not there in twenty, I couldn’t talk my way out. In that case, get to your car and drive.”
“Why don’t you just come with me now?”
“Because a captain always goes down with the ship. Now go.”
I ducked off the stage, swept the sheet aside, and turned back. “Wait! Where can I find you if you don’t come back?”
His eyes locked on mine. “Majestic Waves Resort. I’m a surf instructor. Now go!”
I wasn’t the only one using the escape route.
A steady stream of concertgoers tumbled through the hole in the wall, scattering across the graveyard in their bid to escape.
By the time I reached the back of the cemetery, they’d all vanished.
Now it was just me, the tombstones, and the full moon lighting the avenue of the dead.
I found the shooting star carved into the top, rising above the stone.
The tomb belonged to Josephine ‘Joey’ Heche.
Born in 1946. Died in 1978. Someone had left fresh flowers in a vase attached to her gravestone.
I slid down behind it and waited. Fifteen minutes.
No Scott. Worry set in. Had he been arrested?
Why had I just assumed he could charm his way out of anything?
Five more minutes, I told myself. Then I’d leave.
Maybe I’d look him up. Maybe not. Maybe he was a one-night thing, which was ironic, considering I’d already licked him.
I muffled a laugh. Iron Maiden was a terrible influence, and exactly what I needed on my last night of freedom.
The flowers swayed in the breeze, and a wistful ache came over me. Someone still loved her. Someone still came here.
“I’m sorry, Joey,” I whispered. “For whatever my companion has done behind your star. Please don’t haunt me. I only just met him.”
“Are you tattling on me, Gold Coast?”
I startled, then exhaled in relief at the familiar voice. Scott’s footsteps crunched closer.
“No. Just smoothing things over with the afterlife. I thought they arrested you.”
He shook his head. “Nah. Cops in this town have bigger problems than a bunch of metalheads.”
“I mean, you were serving alcohol to minors.”
“This is true, but Officer Tim and Officer Vinny are fueled by Donut King. A middle-schooler could slow-walk past them and they still couldn’t catch him.”
“So… nothing happened?”
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and flicked it onto the grass. “Noise ordinance. Won’t pay it.”
I smirked. “Of course you won’t.”
He stretched, so unbothered. “Neighbors always call after the first or second song. Takes them until the fourth or fifth song to dispatch a police car. Another song or two for them to drive out. Normally by the time they arrive, the keg’s dry and the kids are gone.”
“That’s… actually a very organized approach.”
He smiled, nudging me with his foot. “Let’s go.”
“Where to?” I asked, my heart thumping even as my voice tried for casual.
“I got some ideas.”
His hand dropped, palm open between us. It was an invitation and a dare. “Come with me.”
If I took it, I knew exactly where this could lead. But if I didn’t, I’d always wonder.
I slipped my hand into his.