Losing Me, Finding You(32)

“I don't understand.”

Christy reaches out and passes her phone to me. There's a video cued up.

“Play it.”

I look down with a frown spreading across my face and hit the play button.

It takes my eyes a moment to register what they're seeing, so sure that I must be hallucinating, having a dirty daytime fantasy that's translating onto this screen that's clutched too tightly in my hand. Thankfully, the sound is off or I might've had a heart palpitation.

“Christy? What is this?”

“I don't know, Amy. You tell me.”

Across Christy's phone, I see Austin and me. Fucking. I see myself bent over a pool table. I see sweat trailing down Austin's strong neck and soaking into his shirt as he thrusts into me, gripping my hips hard with his fingers. I see my life flashing before my eyes.

“I … ” No words will come. I look up at my friend, and I try not to be bothered by the look in her eyes, the one that says I've disappointed her somehow, that I've done something wrong. She hates this life, too, doesn't she? She kissed Beck, right? That has to mean something because I want her to run away with me. I don't want her to end up shuttered and closed in, so set on pleasing others that she forgets to please herself. “I'm twenty-one years old, Christy,” I say which probably isn't the right choice of words given the circumstances. “I didn't do anything wrong.” She smiles at me, tight-lipped.

“Yeah, except lie to me.” Christy stands up in a flurry of skirts and reaches down to snatch her phone from my hand. “And you might want to consider getting out of here.” I look up and see that the doors in the back of the church are opening. I see my father and my mother and my aunt. I see faces red with rage and eyes glinting with disapproval and disgust. “Because whoever filmed this sent it to everyone in your address book.” Christy storms away from me and down the aisle, straight out the same side door that I snuck in just a few moments prior.

“Amy.”

It's my father's voice, pitched low, the world's loudest whisper.

I look at him and at my mother and then around at the people who I've grown up with, who are supposed to love me no matter what, and I see that they don't. That their love has stipulations. I'm an adult, and I had sex with a man. Is there something so wrong with that? Nobody has a right to punish me. Nobody. I stand up before they reach me, backing away with shaking hands a heart that's heavy and weightless both at the same time

You have to go now, Amy, I think, imagining the beating my father will give me if I stay. I may not survive it. I have to go now.

I turn around and I start to run, kicking off my fuchsia heels in the process. My hair flows out behind me and the hideous turquoise bows on my hips flutter.

“Get back here!” my mother screeches at the top of her lungs. “Amy!”

I don't stop. I keep going, running, sliding across the carpet near the door as my hand reaches out and grasps the cool metal.

“You dirty whore.”

It's my father's voice, right behind me. The pain in my cheek amplifies, becomes so loud that I can't hear anything else. The door opens and sunlight streams over me, bathing me in golden light.

Some decisions we make; others are made for us.

This one was a little of both.



Chapter 26

Like some sort of old school villain, Kent appears out of the shadows from a nearby building and falls into step beside me. He's so damn white that he looks like a ghost, flitting between patches of shade like the world's ugliest dead guy. I don't look at him.

“I heard you were looking for me, Sparks,” he says as we continue down the block towards the massive crowd that's gathered together 'round a stage at the end of the street. Some band's about to get on, but I don't know who – don't give a shit neither.

Amy.

I can still taste her on my tongue, still feel her hot thighs wrapped around me. Part of me wants to hop on my bike and run like hell, get as far away from her as I can. The other part of me is pissed the f*ck off for letting her go back to that wedding. There must be a reason she wants to get away. I'm worried about her, and I can't even say why. I don't know anything about the girl except that she's good in bed. Or out of it.

“Yeah,” I say. “I was.” I keep walking, right past a row of vintage bikes that are calling my name. I barely pay 'em a glance. No time for that, I think as I notice Beck and Melissa standing outside the front entrance to the hotel. Fortunately, they're clothed this time. “I got some shit to talk out with you.”

“Ah.” Kent snaps his fingers and Melissa falls in line beside him. Kent's face doesn't say that he knows anything about what she does behind closed doors, how she really feels about him. He doesn't really believe he's in charge of her, does he? If he does, then he's an even bigger * than I am. “About Walker?”

I scowl and try not to look at Beck when I pass. He tries to follow, but I wave him away, moving down the blistering sidewalk like I know where I'm going; I don't know shit. My cock feels raw and my brain is stuck on that girl with her long, soft hair and her big round eyes, her curves for days. Not to mention her slick *. I shiver and try to keep my mind on the situation at hand.

I pause near the stage and let my eyes flicker through the crowd, looking for jackets or vests with crows on the backs of 'em. The words Bested by Crows jump out at me from several places. I wonder how much they know about what's going on. About as much as the rest of the Triple M'ers? Guess it's time for me to get involved and find out.