Rowdy Boy

So I walk up the wooden staircase, which creaks under my weight. I hold my breath and lean toward the door, listening in. A bunch of dudes is cheering, making loud, grizzly bear-like noises. It sounds like they’re excited about something and want to celebrate. But more importantly … they sound like Cole’s band buddies.

Then one of them says his name, and I know for sure. Shit. I can’t fucking believe it.

A few seconds later, the door bursts open, and I barely manage to scramble to the side before it hits me in the face. Two boys, Tristan and Benjamin, come out, drunk on euphoria or something else, I don’t know, but I’ve never seen them this happy.

But as they leave and walk their way up the path toward the main lodge where all the fun takes place, they left open the door. And a light inside reveals there are still two boys left.

Cole and Michael. And for some reason, I can’t stop peeking through the small slit that’s left. Even if it’s probably going to end badly for me, I need to know what Cole’s up to. If he’s planning to do something to bully me or worse … take me down along with him.

Cole

A few seconds earlier

“Fuck yes, time to get a fucking drink and party!” Benjamin boasts, bumping chests with Tristan. “C’mon.”

They try to pull me along, but I’m still busy reading the letter. “Cole? You coming?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I reply.

“Aw, c’mon. You’re the biggest star,” Benji says. “The girls are waiting for you out there.”

“I just wanna celebrate in private. That cool?” I reply, sitting down on the couch.

“Whatever, bro,” Benji says, shaking his head. He throws an arm around Tristan, who’s still looking at me like he doesn’t know which side to pick. But I’d rather not throw myself into a bunch of fangirls right now. I’ve had enough of that for a while.

“You go on. Have fun.” I wave them off, and they both leave the room.

Only Michael is left, who is suspiciously silent, even though he’s normally the one to party the hardest. The youngest member of our band, but also the one who craves the attention the most. And right now, he’s not acting like his usual self, because he’s hovering over his bedside stand with his back toward me without saying a word. And I don’t trust it one bit.

“Michael?” I mumble. “Aren’t you gonna party with Tristan and Benji?”

He looks up and sniffs. Hard. Then he runs his finger along his nose. “Yeah. Of course. I just … needed a sec.”

I narrow my eyes and get up from the seat. “To do what exactly?” I peer over his shoulder at the nightstand only for him to snatch a tiny bag that was there … A bag filled with some kind of white powder.

I immediately pounce on him and grab him by the collar. “What the fuck are you doing, Michael?”

“Relax.” He holds up his hands. “It’s just some coke. No biggie.”

“Just some coke?” Rage fuels my bones, and I tighten my grip. “Do you have any idea what the fuck you’re doing?”

“You should take some. It might take the edge off,” he says, raising a brow. “Lord knows you need it the most.”

I punch him right in the face.

He falls on the hardwood floor with a big, fat red mark on his nose. Blood pours out.

“Jesus Christ, Cole! What the fuck!” he growls, wiping the blood from underneath his nose. “What’d you do that for?”

“I told you not to fucking do drugs while you’re a part of our band,” I say through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous it is to bring that shit here?”

He makes a face and leans up on his elbows. “Who gives a shit? It’s just coke. We’re not the only kids who—”

“I DON’T FUCKING CARE!” I’m boiling over now, but it’s for a good reason.

I know where he got those drugs. I’d recognize those baggies anywhere.

The mere thought of my family’s drug empire creeping its way into my blood, sweat, and tears just to spoil everything I’ve worked so damn hard for is too much.

I hold out my hand. “Give me the fucking bag.”

“What? Why?”

“Do it!” I growl. “Or I swear to God, not playing for us will be the last thing on your mind.”

He gulps and fishes the baggie from his pocket. “You’re a fucking lunatic.”

I ignore that last comment and bring it straight to the toilet, where I flush it down whole. Good fucking riddance. Then I focus my attention on him.

“This is the last time, do you hear me? The last fucking time,” I growl as he gets up from the floor. “No more free passes. This is your last shot.”

He looks at me with disdain in his eyes. “Or what? You’re gonna kick me from the band? As if the others would let you.”