Tone Deaf(27)

I open my bag, touching the cash and the check at the bottom just to reassure myself they’re there. All I need is to get away from this city, to a place where I can’t be recognized, and then I can safely branch off from Jace. That way I won’t have to keep depending on his pity, and I can make sure he won’t be harmed by anything my dad does.

I’ll wait just a few days. That’s all the time I need to spend with Jace. Then I can travel the rest of the way to New York on my own.





13


JACE


I STARE OUT the tiny kitchen window and watch as the last trailer is bolted shut, ready for travel. Earlier, I pulled the shades down on all the windows so no one could peer in and spot Ali. But I left the shades open on this window, since it’s taller than the others and impossible to snoop through. If all the trailers are packed, we should be leaving any minute. Although driving is the last thing I want to do. Anxiety and uncertainty keep stabbing at my mind, and I want to play some music, drown out my thoughts in chords and notes and riffs.

“Dude,” Killer calls from the living room. “How hard is it to fetch a glass of water? You’ve been in there for five minutes.”

Right. Water. That’s what I’d gone in the kitchen for.

I quickly grab a glass and fill it, then head back to the couches. My stomach drops when I see that Ali’s gone. She didn’t leave, did she? She’s been pale and jittery, but I didn’t think she was freaked out enough to ditch her plans of escape.

Killer squints at my worried expression, yawning as he runs a hand through his hair. “She didn’t leave,” he says. “She’s just in the bathroom.”

The RV door slams open, and Arrow comes striding inside a moment later.

“Hey,” I say to him. I set the water down on the small end table and sit on the couch across from Killer, moving so Arrow has room on the other end.

“Hey, Jace,” Arrow says. He sits on the couch, careful to leave a few feet between us, reminding me why I like him so much. Then he turns toward Killer and says in a way-too-bright voice, “And, hello, my darling sweetie. Are you having a lovely morning?”

Killer grunts and mumbles something before burying his face back into his cocoon of blankets. Arrow turns to me, a wry smile on his lips. “Someone wouldn’t listen when I said he couldn’t handle another shot last night.”

“Someone is going to hit you if you keep rubbing this in,” Killer mutters.

Arrow chuckles, but I can’t bring myself to laugh. I don’t like that the rest of the band drinks. I don’t like it at all. Sure, they don’t do drugs, but only because they know I’d leave the band if they did. But they insist on drinking, and even though they rarely do it in front of me, it freaks me out every time I see one of them nursing a hangover.

Arrow ignores my frown and stands from the couch, moving to the other one. “Scooch,” he says to Killer. Killer curls up into a tighter ball, and Arrow sits beside him. He drags Killer halfway onto his lap and gently smooths his hair. “You want some Tylenol or something, babe?”

“Can Jace get it?” Killer mumbles.

“Nope,” I say. “I’m not your servant.”

Killer ignores me and says to Arrow, “Just stay here, ’kay?”

Arrow rolls his eyes at me, but I catch the small smile on his lips. It’s a happy little expression, the kind he always wears around Killer. When those two are together, they’re always acting like the world is made of rainbows and butterflies, as if everything is perfect and nothing could ever go wrong.

But I can’t resent Arrow for it. Like practically every member of my family, the dude had a shitty childhood. His dad OD’d by the time he was eight, and his mom was sent to prison pretty soon after for dealing. Arrow drifted through the foster system like a ghost for a long time after that, too skinny, too scared, too traumatized to have much of a life.

Killer changed that. The dude might be annoying as hell, but I can’t help but like him. Without Killer, my cousin would probably still be in that ghost state.

Arrow strokes Killer’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Promise not to drink so much next time?” he murmurs.

“Promise. Swear. Cross my heart, hope to die,” Killer groans. “Never, never drinking that much again.”

I scoff, and Arrow shoots me a glare. “What?” I demand. “You do realize how many times he’s said that, don’t you?”

“Don’t talk so loud,” Killer grumbles.

“I’ll talk however loud I want. This is my RV. What are you doing in here, anyway?”

Killer shrugs his shoulders and winces. “Tony and Arrow were talking in ours. Really, really loudly.”

I raise an eyebrow at Arrow, and he gives me a thin smile. “I was distracting Tony while you got Ali into the RV.” He nibbles uncertainly at his lip. “You’re sure you want to keep all this from him?”

“Positive,” I say. “He’s too good at his job. If he thinks Ali is any type of threat to my reputation, he’ll report her.”

Arrow shrugs, but doesn’t disagree. I turn my attention back to Killer. “So you decided to crash in my RV? Without permission?”

“Yup. Besides, your pillows are comfier,” he says, like this is some sort of excuse.