Lacey picks at the label on her beer. “He was in love with someone else.” That thought doesn’t seem too hard to believe. Cayden is protective, and I can imagine him cherishing and loving that person with all of his heart. “But the thing with Cayden is that regardless of what a huge ass he can be, he is selfless. Growing up, we all looked up to him, forgetting he was only a few years older than us. In some cases, even the older kids saw him as an authoritative figure. My brother grew up way too fast.” The regret is clear.
“So it seems Cayden was the glue that held our neighborhood together.” It feels right to refer to the neighborhood as mine.
Lacey lifts her eyes, nodding. “He was. Growing up in this part of town was tough. We all came from dysfunctional families and lived in poverty. But Cayden ensured we were looked after.” There is no need for her to spell it out. For that to happen, Cayden would have lied, cheated, and stolen as I doubt their families would have offered a helping hand.
Suddenly, I’m quick to doubt myself. There is no way Stella would have allowed me to socialize with Cayden or his friends. And it’s safe to assume by the clothes I owned and the life I led, I wouldn’t be caught dead running with his crowd when I was old enough to make my own decisions. I’m so confused. Could it be that I am so desperate to remember that my mind is tricking me into believing these memories as being real?
Reaching for my drink, I throw it back in one big gulp, savoring the burn. I feel like I’m back to square one.
The crowd erupts into lively claps and whistles, hinting the band has finished their set. Lacey sits tall and joins in by clapping excitedly. I instantly harness my thoughts because we’re supposed to be having a good time.
“How do I look?” she asks, straightening out her outfit. She looks stunning in a fitted little black dress. Her hair is tied back into a high ponytail, accentuating her striking features. Gunn doesn’t stand a chance.
“You look beautiful. Does he know you’re here?”
She shakes her head, interlocking her hands over her lips to hide her budding grin.
We both watch as he rises from the kit, beaming brightly when his bandmates high-five one another on a great show. A group of scantily clad girls loiters by the side of the stage. Lacey sees them too, and instantly, her mood deflates. Her insecurities shine as her shoulders slump, and she slouches low.
But fuck that. There is no way that’s happening. She can chastise me later.
Without a second thought, I shoot upward and put my fingers into my mouth, whistling. The noise is deafening, and I smile in response. Who knew I could whistle like a drunken Irishman?
“Oh, my God! What are you doing?” Lacey whispers, yanking on my arm frantically. She wants me to sit down, but hell no.
My tactics work because when Gunn looks over, I wave wildly, ensuring he doesn’t miss us. When he sees me, I gesture for him to come over. He doesn’t object and jumps from the stage, showcasing his impressive prowess, and bypasses his legion of fans. They immediately turn and glare at who dared to take their limelight. I wave my pointer in response.
“Sometimes…we just need a little push,” I say, giggling when Lacey rockets from her seat and hunts through her bag for some lip gloss. This is happening, and she has no other choice but to be prepared.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” she replies, hinting I am so in trouble. But it’s worth it. When Gunn approaches our booth and sees Lacey, the air turns electric. She stops mid-stroke of applying her pink gloss and quickly gets rid of the evidence by shoving the wand into her bag.
“Hi,” he says, breaking the silence.
“Hi,” she finally replies while I feel like the third wheel. “Great show.”
“Thanks for coming.”
I have the sudden urge to coo. But I don’t. It’s apparent this will probably advance past pleasantries if I leave them alone. “I need another drink. Lacey?” She barely hears me, too transfixed by the hulking rock star in front of her. “I’ll get you a beer.”
I excuse myself, giving Gunn a knowing smile. He merely smirks in response, wasting no time as he takes my seat and gives Lacey a tight hug. She looks at me over his shoulder, glowing in gratitude.
Now that the band has finished, the thirsty patrons are all lined up, ready to quench their thirst. I decide to visit the restroom first. The bathrooms are down a narrow hallway, and it’s not hard to guess which line is for the ladies. The longest line, of course.
Overlapping faded stickers litter the hallway walls. Everything from obscure band names to smiley faces. Among the chaos are phone numbers written in marker, offering all kinds of services. I now know who to call if I’m looking for a good time.
Chuckling, I relish in the warmth within. It’s not a feeling I experience too often. Being Lacey’s wingwoman felt good, and it was fun to focus on something other than trying to remember. I may not remember the past, but I do remember now. Maybe if I lighten up, things may come quicker? Like when you stop looking for something, that’s usually when you find it.
Happy with my newfound mindset, I decide to try to live by it because being a madwoman hasn’t worked for me thus far.
Que será, será.
Peering ahead, I’m thankful the line is moving, but it’s still about fifteen people deep. No one is behind me. Just as I’m contemplating whether to hit the bar and come back, I get the sense that I’m no longer alone, and that’s because I am not. I’m about to turn and ask the person behind me to give me a little breathing room, but speaking is the last thing on my mind when that someone leans in close. “Wanna party? I have the good stuff. All the party favors you need.”
The smell of menthol cigarettes is heavy on his breath, and I instantly have the urge to gag. But pulling back my shoulders, I spin around, not interested in whatever this scumbag has to offer. “No, thank you,” I spit, glaring at him.
The man before me isn’t what you’d expect your typical drug dealer to look like. Quite frankly, he looks like he should be playing college football in his varsity jacket and cream chinos. But regardless, he has two seconds to back off before I knee him in the groin.
“I know what you like,” he presses, peering around, scoping out his surroundings, before reaching into his inner pocket and producing a clear bag containing a white powder.
I almost bump into the girl behind me as I recoil in disgust. “You know nothing about me. Now get out of here before I call the police.”
His confusion reflects in his green eyes, but that soon turns to challenge as a shit-eating grin spreads from ear to ear. He crowds me further and purrs, “Oh, so it’s like that then? I know what you want.” I’m too shell-shocked to move when he lowers his face to inches from mine. However, when he pushes me up against the wall, rubbing his distinct hard-on into me, I retaliate like a caged raccoon.
“Let me go, you fucking jerk! If this tactic is meant to scare me, then I hate to disappoint. Although considering the pathetic excuse of wood you’re sporting, I’d say you’re used to disappointment. Now, fuck off.” I attempt to break free but defying him only spurs him on.
“Don’t be such a hard-ass. You never complained about my wood before. If I recall correctly, you begged for it.” The fight in me dies the moment those vile words slip past his smug lips.
“What?” The world starts spinning, and the white noise rears her ugly head. I grow slack, and the asshole thinks it’s because I’ve surrendered.
“Now, open up, baby. Daddy is coming home.” He lowers his hand between us, walking his fingers up my thigh. His touch makes me want to be sick, but it’s the wake-up call I needed. Adrenaline soars through me, and I act on pure instinct, kneeing him in the groin.