Bad Day (Hard Rock Roots) (15 page)

“You mean other than nearly getting killed by that tornado? Everything's been fine.” Dax pauses and scratches at a cut in his eyebrow. I wonder if he knows his roots are showing, that there's some blonde growing out of his scalp, obscuring the perfect darkness of his hair. I try not to smirk at that. “Did you ever ask Lola what was supposed to happen to the rest of us?”

“She doesn't know,” Ronnie says absently, pushing himself forward with a groan. “Unfortunately, most of the plans this mouse of a man has laid are kept well hidden. If you have any family out there, you'd better give 'em a heads up.” Ronnie moves over to his suitcase and kicks it open, fishing out some plastic bags from a hidden pocket on the lid. Most of them are filled with drugs, pills, pot, needles, whatever. He tosses them all aside and keeps digging.

“Just my dad,” Dax says, exchanging a look with Naomi that I don't like. She smiles at him, and my skin crawls.
Emo bitch, you stay away from my woman.
“And he doesn't like me anyway. If this guy was going to come after me, that wouldn't be his first choice I don't think. If he was picking a target … ” Dax trails off and moves his hand towards Naomi's, laying gentle fingers on her knuckles. I do my best not to foam at the fucking mouth and tear his nuts off. I force my gaze away and stare at the carpet.

“Yeah, well, nobody's gettin' near Naomi again. Ain't gonna happen. I won't let it.” I spit at the floor and sniff, smacking my gum and leaning up against the door. Of course, I can't help but think of Trey and how useful my protection would be if that same sort of thing were to happen to Naomi.
Step one, avoid tall ass buildings.
“Fucker's going to have to try a little harder next time.”

“I'd rather not test him,” Naomi says, stone faced and serious. “Obviously he's capable of a lot. Too much. No need to bait him. Let's just make our rounds in pairs. You guys talk to Jesse and Josh; Dax and I will take care of Kash, Wren, and Blair.
Nobody
talk to Hayden.” She glances over at Dax. He looks right back at her, pleading with his gray eyes.

“She's not a monster,” Dax says, still somehow able to defend that fucking whore. If it wasn't such a freaking impossibility, I'd say he had some hardcore feelings for her. I guess he's just an empathetic schmuck or some shit. “You said Lola told you she joined in Denver? Did she tell you why?”

“Who gives a fuck?” I snap at him, moving forward aggressively. Naomi gives me a look that manages to stop me mid-stride.
Say goodbye to your manhood, Turner Campbell.
I huff and slam my shoulder against the wall, leaning into it. It's a lot easier than trying to stand straight with a bunch of crap crusted onto your shoulders. “She's a traitor and a bitch.”
Who's been blackmailing Naomi for years. Wonder what old Dax would have to say about that if he knew. Could he still love Naomi like I do if he'd seen the video?

“It all has to do with that picture. Hayden's weak. I'm not going to lie about that. But weakness isn't a crime.”

“It is when you let it control you, pit you against the people in your life you're supposed to be standing behind. In my book, she's just as guilty as any of the rest of them.” I look him straight in the face when I say this, watch his reaction. He doesn't budge, doesn't flinch. He's going to stand behind this chick, rest of the world be damned. I'm almost glad; Naomi doesn't look too happy about his vehement defense of the enemy.

“Hayden
is
a monster, Dax. I'm not afraid to give it to you straight. For me, she's beyond redemption.” I smirk at Naomi's words, at the set of her jaw, the stiffness of her shoulders.

“She's afraid. Whatever that picture represents, she won't say, but the truth is this: she
was
kidnapped, just like you. That night, she was going to meet someone that was blackmailing her about it. She was taken captive and tied up. Naomi, she was raped.”

“How do you know that?” Naomi asks, eyes narrowed. Ronnie's stopped digging through his suitcase and is watching the two of them, absorbing the details of the conversation. Soon as we get a moment alone, I can ask him about it and find out if he thinks Dax is telling the truth. Or if Hayden was.

“Because she told me. Last night. After you beat the crap out of her.”

“Seriously?” Naomi asks, sounding as skeptical as I feel. Dax better not have spilled anything to Skinny Chick, or I
will
kick his ass, and I'll relish the moment. “Did you sleep with her again?”

“None of your business,” I snap at her, feeling irritated that she even gives a fuck about that. Why should it matter what Dax does? She shouldn't give a shit. I smack my gum.

“No.” Dax holds up his hands. “Honest truth, Naomi. I couldn't touch her even if I wanted to. She needs to stop lying to us and fess up to what she's done. I wouldn't even consider until that happened.”

“Thought you were waiting for the love of your life?” I ask him, feeling mean. Dax spins over to me with a growl.

“Shut the fuck up. Nobody asked you, Turner. Leave us alone.” When Naomi reaches out and cups his jaw, I almost fly into a rage and attack the dude. My animal instincts take over, leaving me with a painful hard-on and enough testosterone to fill a dump truck.
Shiiiiiit.
“This isn't all about you, so get over yourself. This concerns all of us, every single fucking one. Hayden came to me because she wants to tell someone; she wants out of this. She might put up a bitchy front, but that's only because she's afraid. Not all of her cocky arrogance is real, Turner. You should know.”

“What are you trying to get at, bitch?” I ask, but he's already turning away from me, letting Naomi's hand guide his gaze back to hers.

“They lured her away with the picture and took her hostage. If that Eric guy hadn't shown up and plead on her behalf, a lot worse might've happened to her. They bargained her into the fold, made her a rogue agent. She didn't
want
this, any of it. And you know what, I really do believe that she'd have come back for you on that trailer. Maybe she should've freed you right away, but we don't know all of the circumstances.”

“Dax, you've got a hard case to plead. I don't know that I'll ever be able to get over all the things Hayden's done to me. We have a history that's not easy to forget.” Naomi sighs and closes her eyes, dropping her hand back into her lap. “Who raped her?”

“She doesn't know. She was blindfolded. But I want to help her find out. She deserves justice, no matter what you think of her.”

I've had enough of this fucking conversation. I can't stand here and pretend to feel sorry for someone who'd choose themselves over their friends. I would never. Couldn't even imagine living with myself if I did. Besides, having to watch Naomi and Dax together bothers me. I'm not used to getting jealous like this. I've
never
been jealous over a girl, not even when Trey's swooped in and picked up the chicks I had my eye on. This is too much for me.

“Let's go, Ronnie. Talk to Jesse. Get this over with.” I sigh and move towards the door, pausing with my hand on the knob. There are guards everywhere, and we're in the middle of fucking nowhere, but I still can't shake the fear that grips me like a teenage boy groping his dick. Tight, hard, unforgiving. I'm almost paralyzed by the thought of something bad happening to Naomi. I wouldn't survive it again. “Let's check in together in an hour. Meet at our room?” I emphasize the word
our.

“Sounds good,” Naomi says, voice tired and strained. Don't blame her. This is a lot to take in, too much. Nobody should have to go through something like this.
Fuck you and your record label, Stephen Hammergren,
I think as I open the door and move into the hallway.
I can't wait to make you eat shit.

“How do you want to go about this?” Ronnie asks, scratching at the back of his neck. I look over at him and raise an eyebrow.

“Really? You're asking me that? I was just going to blurt it all the fuck out. I'm sick and fucking tired of keeping secrets. Let's just lay it all out, nice and simple. It's no secret that shit's going down. Everybody knows that. All we're doing is reconfirming that this crap is focused directly on us.” I pause and nibble at a lip ring, clinking the metal of my tongue ring against it.
Click. Click. Click.
“That, and tell Jesse about Travis.” That's going to be the hardest part, hands down. The only thing that's going to be worse is telling Trey.

“Try not to scare the crap out of him, alright? Let's just go slow. It's not a marathon.” Ronnie pauses in front of our friend's door and raises his hand, taking a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the orange painted wood. It takes awhile for Jesse to come to the door. Dude is dragging hardcore, looks like he got run over by a truck or something.

“Is this something that can wait?” Jesse asks, hanging on the edge of the door like a broken puppet. I push past him and into the room, kicking discarded clothes out of my way. There's porn playing on the ancient TV on the dresser, but it's on mute, and it doesn't look like Jesse's been watching it. There are spoons and needles on the nightstand near his bed and the whole place smells like frustration and fear.

He's been hit.

I know that before we even ask.

“Jesse,” I snap, spinning on my heel and pinning him with a look before Ronnie can even close the door behind us. “What's going on?”

“Going on?” he asks, side stepping me like he's afraid I might bite. And hell, there's a good chance I could. May just have to kick his ass for not telling me something was up. “You mean other than the fact that Trey's in the hospital? Or that our tour's all fucked up? That we're stuck here in this redneck shit box? You think there's something else going on?” He laughs, but it's fake as a pageant girl's tits. I follow him to the bathroom, getting on his heels and pausing at the edge of the tiled floor while he turns on the tap and splashes cold water into his face.

“No, there's something else. What is it?” Jesse ignores me, wiping his face with a nearby towel and shrugging like he doesn't have a damn clue what I'm talking about. Already though, there's sweat beading on his upper lip. “Your brothers? Are they alright?” He gives me a weird look, like I've lost my damn mind.

“Fine. As far as I know. Why?” I shake my head and put my hands out on either side of the door frame. I'm not moving out of this spot until Jesse ponies up. And he knows that just by looking at my face. I hate to say it, but Jesse Decker is easy to bully, always has been. At least for me. I say jump and he asks how high. I don't get it, but there it is. Might as well use it to my advantage. “Turner, what is this about?” I glance over my shoulder at Ronnie who narrows his eyes on me. Diplomacy. Tact. Not really my things, but I'll try.

“Bad things have been happening to us,” I start, pretending I have some clue how to be subtle with my words. I'm more used to belting out what I feel, trashing a crowd and killing 'em softly with words so hard they could crush, a voice rough with gravel and sex and hard won confidence. “All of us. Both bands. Not just what you've heard about or seen, but other things.” I swallow and sniff, focusing on the black stud in the center of Jesse's lip. I can't look at his face. “And some of it has to do with Travis.”

“Uh.” Jesse tries to look at Ronnie over my shoulder, but I block his gaze, trying to keep his focus on me. Ronnie's too soft. He needs to know that I mean it. I'm not moving until he tells me what's really going on. “What the fuck are you talking about? This is kind of weird, guys.”

“It'll be a lot less weird if you just admit to us that something else is wrong, that you're being stalked or bullied or blackmailed or whatever. I can tell just by looking at you. The sooner you admit it, the better.” Jesse takes a step back and his eyes open wide, taking me in with a shaky gaze and hands that start to tremble as he swallows hard. The tattoos on his right arm look like they're dancing as he stutters and stumbles over the words he doesn't want to say.

“How much do you know exactly?” he asks as I glance over my shoulder at Ronnie. He shrugs and moves over to sit on the bed, leaving me to deal with Jesse. I turn back to him and wait. I actually have a lot of patience, imagine that. I just don't often exercise it. I don't say a thing, just raise one brow and wait him out. Jesse's got a touch of claustrophobia, so I know he's sweatin' standing in this tiny bathroom with my fat ass blocking the doorway.

“I know fucking everything,” I say, trying some reverse psychology bullshit on him. He scratches at the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, dark eyes flickering back and forth like beetles, crawling around looking for escape. “I'm just waiting for you to confirm it.”

“This is stupid as shit. If you know, why are you standing there torturing me like this? It's not fucking cool.” He tries to rush me, and I slam my palm against the wall, leaning in towards him, challenging him. He doesn't fight back. Jesse sighs and slumps onto the toilet with a groan, burying his face in his hands. A pinup girl grins at me from his bicep. “Who's doing this? Who's behind all of this? I thought it was that crazy guy, the one that raped his sister. But he's dead, so what? What the fuck is going on?”

“Uh uh. You talk first. Why the long ass face?” Jesse keeps his face in his hands, sitting in the dark shadows of the ugly bathroom, letting them bathe him in secrecy, protect him from the big, bad world. For a guy with three older brothers, Jesse never did learn to man up. I think his mom's death really fucked him over. Whenever he gets upset, he retreats into himself, gets quiet and morose.
Just another member of our fucked up family. We've got mental problems and hang ups for days, people. Days.

“I swear I deleted it. I swear. And I know Rook would never post it. That's not his style, you know?”

I let go of the walls and lean into the door frame, waiting for him to expound on that vague ass statement.

“Rook?” I ask when he refuses to keep talking. “Like, Terre Haute's Rook Geary? The lead singer?” Jesse groans again and drops his hands, leveling a black gaze on my face that could very well be poison. Looks like he'd be pretty damn happy if I started choking on my own blood and dropped dead. Jesse's a little morbid like that. “What about that wannabe fuck? He spends more time screwing chicks than I do. If anybody owns the right to be called a whore it's that pervy motherfucker. Did you know this one time, I walked in on him fucking a girl in a furry bear suit. You know, like mascots wear at football games and whatever? They had a slit cut out in the crotch. She was even wearing the head. Weirdest damn thing I've ever seen.”