Highway Song: A Smokey's Roadhouse Novel (9 page)

I went back to my two friends. The amazing thing was I
had
friends. It hadn
’
t always been that way. Rick
’
s mom was nice to me, and because she was here, Daddy didn
’
t notice me so much. I could have friends, and they could even come to my house. Becca said my new brother was hot. He looked like some rock star, with his long hair. I thought he was handsome, but didn
’
t all girls think their brothers were handsome? I didn
’
t know about hot.

Becca said
her
brother wasn
’
t hot. He was just gross. She and Robin whispered to each other and giggled.
“
What
’
s funny?
”
I said.

“
My brother makes these noises at night, like he
’
s dying. He sounds just like Daddy does, when he and Mommy lock their bedroom door. I think it
’
s about sex,
”
she said, dropping her voice on the last word.

“
What
’
s about sex?
”
I asked.

“
Shh, don
’
t say it so loud.
”
Becca looked at Robin and said,
“
Let
’
s go. If her brother won
’
t play his guitar for us, there
’
s nothing to do here.
”
She was mean like that sometimes.

I swallowed my hurt.
“
Can I come?
”

“
No. Not until you get your hot brother to play his guitar for us, and sing us a love song.
”
She was bossy, too.

“
He
’
s not my brother,
”
I said.
“
And he probably makes noises at night, too.
”

“
Does not.
”

I never got another chance to ask Rick to play for us. The girls wouldn
’
t come back over, and they didn
’
t invite me to their houses, either. I decided friends weren
’
t much fun. I started creeping out of my bedroom at night to listen at the doors. All I heard from my dad
’
s bedroom were moans, usually. Sometimes I
’
d hear a higher voice yelp in pain, and the next day, my stepmom wouldn
’
t come downstairs to fix our breakfast. Rick always looked mad, but he helped me pour milk on my cereal.

At Rick
’
s door, I didn
’
t hear any noises like he was dying. Usually I
’
d hear nothing, but sometimes he
’
d be playing his guitar, really softly. I
’
d sit down and lean against the wall to listen. Later, I
’
d wake up and not hear anything, so I
’
d go to bed and dream about the music.

Rick had friends, but all they did was go out in the garage and play loud music. If I went out there to listen, they
’
d chase me away, so usually I hid. They played songs that Rick listened to on the radio before Daddy came home from work. But not the ones Rick played at night. Sometimes they stopped playing and talked about what they
’
d do when they were a band. I wondered what groupies were, and who Mary Jane was. I couldn
’
t ask Rick, or he
’
d know I was spying on him.

When my ninth birthday happened, my stepmom said we should have a party. I hadn
’
t ever had a birthday party in my life. I was so excited! Rick even promised to play. We waited and waited for the kids from my class to show up, but no one did. Finally, my stepmom hugged me and said,
“
It
’
s okay, honey. More cake for us.
”

When she and Daddy walked past my room to go to bed, I heard Daddy say,
“
I told you not to build her up like that. Fucking whore, quit trying to be her mother.
”

The next morning was another morning when she didn
’
t come down. Rick helped me fix my breakfast and told me he
’
d take me to school. I held my head up high when I got out of his car. Maybe all the girls would see me with my
hot brother
, and wish they
’
d come to my party. Becca and Robin saw me get out of his car, but they turned their backs when I waved at them.

I was ten when they left. Rick was bigger by then. He had big muscles and a permanent frown. After he said his casual
‘
see you kid
’
, he helped his mom into the car, got in on the driver
’
s side, and zoomed away from the curb. She had her hand over her face, but it was too late. I
’
d already seen the black eye.

Daddy waited a whole week before he hit me.

Amy
 

I
’
d convinced Rex to get his band
’
s cooperation. Now all I had to do was get the word out. I didn
’
t know any way to do that, but when Jake and his friends came in, I thought maybe they
’
d help.

“
Hi, Jake,
”
I greeted him.

“
Bunny,
”
he answered. The first time he
’
d called me that, I thought it was just something he said. When I learned what it meant, I told him not to say it again. Some girls craved the attention, even if it meant being passed around in the club like a blunt.

“
Now Jake, can
’
t we have a nice talk without you calling me names?
”
I was determined to ask for his help and keep my dignity. I should have known it wouldn
’
t work out that way. His buddies crowded around, making me nervous.

“
That
’
s not a bad name,
”
he answered.
“
We
’
re nice guys. Why wouldn
’
t you want to party with us?
”

“
I guess I won
’
t tell you the good news if you
’
re gonna be that way.
”
I gave an exaggerated pout. The others wouldn
’
t dare touch me if Jake laid claim to me for the night, and that was the lesser of the evils I faced. I
’
d deal with the consequences of flirting with him later.

“
What way? We
’
d take good care of you, wouldn
’
t we, brothers?
”

This was getting out of hand. They were crowding me enough to make me nervous.

“
Back off,
”
yelled Smokey from behind the bar. Immediately, the circle of men grew wider, and I could breathe again.

“
We
’
re going to have live music here tomorrow night. Would you help spread the word around? Maybe take some flyers around to some places?
”
I gave my best smile to Jake, who puffed up like a toad under my attention.

“
Who
’
s gonna play?
”
he asked.

“
Those guys,
”
I said, pointing to the band
’
s table. They were arguing about something.

“
What kinda music?
”

“
I don
’
t know,
”
I huffed, exasperated.
“
What difference does it make? When was the last time you had a live band here? You were probably all in diapers.
”
It was the wrong thing to say. Jake grabbed my arm above the elbow.

“
Listen, you little cock-tease. You want our help, you
’
ll show us some respect. Smokey won
’
t always be around.
”

I knew he was right, and I knew what it meant if they ever caught me alone. Club bunnies, short for Dust Bunnies, their cutesy name for the biker groupie hangers-on were there for the taking, and the guys didn
’
t mind sloppy seconds. Or thirds. Hell, the whole club might break in a new girl. The last time I
’
d been in that situation, I
’
d ended up naked and drugged in a gutter. I nodded.

“
Jake, you know I respect you. I
’
m sorry.
”

“
I
’
ll believe that when you prove it. I
’
ll see you later, after the bar closes.
”

Oh, lord. Now I had two visits to worry about. One guy I wanted and couldn
’
t have, and a stone-cold badass I feared I
’
d have to have to protect myself from the others. What if they met up?

I could see nothing but disaster coming from that.

“
Smokey, can I talk to you privately?
”

“
Hang on a sec, sis. Let me just get these guys their drinks,
”
he answered.

A few minutes later we crowded into what felt like a closet, but was in reality Smokey
’
s office. I knew no business was ever conducted in there. The club meeting room was a bigger room off the back of the bar. That
’
s where business went down.

“
I
’
m worried about Jake. He
’
s getting more insistent.
”

“
You don
’
t have any feelin
’
s for him?
”
Smokey asked.

“
Are you kidding? He acts like I
’
m a personal possession, but he threatened me tonight.
”

“
Threatened you? Wha
’
d he say?
”

“
Called me a cock-tease. Said I better show some respect, and you won
’
t always be around.
”

“
Shit, girl, they all talk like that. Don
’
t mean nothin
’
,
”
he said. But he wouldn
’
t meet my eyes.

“
Smokey, I know what he means when he calls me Bunny. I didn
’
t just fall off a turnip truck. If you can
’
t keep him off me, I
’
ll have to leave.
”
I knew he
’
d have to act with a threat like that. Sylvie wasn
’
t up to even a single shift, and there was no one else around who had any experience.

Before tonight, I couldn
’
t have followed through, because I hadn
’
t saved enough money yet. But now, I had the smoldering look in Rick
’
s
—
I meant Rex
’
s
—
eyes to tell me all I had to do was give in to his desires and I
’
d have a ride out of here. Maybe someone to take care of me until I could figure out my next move. As long as he didn
’
t ever learn I wasn
’
t Amy Brown. I was Amanda Bruno, his long-lost stepsister, who
’
d been on the streets
—
doing things to survive that would probably horrify him
—
for three long years, all because he and his mother wouldn
’
t take me with them when they left my abusive father.