Sweet Forty-Two(16)

“Do to her? She’s a f*cking cock-tease. And crazy.” Dex pulled against the bouncers, but CJ pulled tighter against us, and freed enough arm to punch Dex square in the nose.

CJ growled through frighteningly ragged breaths. “Don’t you ever talk about her that way, you dickless pig.”

There wasn’t any blood right away, and the bouncers dragged Dex to a far corner of the bar.

Bo and I regained control of CJ, and Georgia stood on her tiptoes in front of him. “CJ, calm the f*ck down!” An edge of panic leaked from her authority.

Bo and I repeated CJ’s name, trying to get him to come to his senses before everyone ended up in jail, but he couldn’t hear us. I could tell by the rigid set of his muscles from his wrist up to his neck. When he was that angry, nothing worked except his sense of touch. Sense of punch, really.

“I’m not going to calm down, Georgia. Not after Brandon gave you that concussion.”

He started to say more, but Georgia’s hand cut across his face so sharply, I could almost feel it. With a single slap from one small waitress, the overfull bar fell silent as Georgia’s facade melted into tears.

“You f*cking bastard,” she whispered, “you said you’d never tell.”

CJ’s shoulders sank, strained muscles dissolving their strength underneath my hands. “Go,” I mouthed to Bo, eyeing the door. I’d watched the bouncers move Dex to the far corner of the bar, meaning the main door was clear for us to escape through.

Looking over my shoulder as Bo pushed CJ through the door, my chest ached as I watched Georgia wave off a hand from Lissa, disappearing down the hall in a hurry. Just before the door closed, I saw Ember chase after her, nodding to Lissa to follow her.

CJ shook free from us the second the door closed. He’d clearly let us lead him from the bar, almost like a security blanket. Truth is, he could have flicked us off of him like bugs if he’d tried hard enough.

“CJ,” Bo started breathlessly, “what ... the f*ck?”

“Let it go.” CJ dug his hands into his pockets and started for the parking lot.

Feeling was just returning to my brain as I teased out what was real from the nightmare that was my internal trip through a fun house on stage. I let Bo search for motive in CJ.

“I won’t let it go, man. You were a dick to Ember earlier, then you—”

“Oh shut the f*ck up, Cavanaugh, your bitch of a girlfriend was nasty to G—”

“Dude...” Bo’s voice dropped a dark octave as his hand wrapped into a fist at his side.

That was my cue.

“Shit. Guys.” I ran a hand over my head. “Neither of you need a broken hand. Fair?” CJ hadn’t turned around but shook his head and mumbled whatever. I continued, taking shallow breaths as I wiped my hands on my jeans. “What was that about, Ceej? Who’s Brandon?”

CJ’s voice was impassioned with a dash of defeat. “Forget it. Just f*cking forget about it, okay? He was some bastard boyfriend of hers in high school who got drunk and beat the shit out of her one night. That’s it.” With slumped shoulders, CJ reached my car, pulled my keys from his pocket, and got in, slamming the door and reclining the seat, his hands covering his face.

Bo and I stared at the darkened car for a minute before either of us spoke.

“Do you think anyone called the police?” I grimaced at the thought of CJ’s less than stellar record.

Bo shrugged. “Doubt it. They’d have been here by now.”

As the melody of Rae’s laughter once again bubbled through my senses, I had to speak to override it.

“Ember followed Georgia down the hall as we were leaving.” It felt like tattling.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, running a hand over his face, leaving it over his mouth for a beat.

“What’s really going on with you two?”

Bo closed his eyes and lowered his head, shaking it a few times. When he opened them, he turned for the door, holding it open for me without looking my way. “You all right, Regan? You seemed a little off at the end of that song.”

“I’m fine. I just saw CJ, and, you know...” I lied. There was enough going on tonight without getting into a therapy session with Bo in a bar parking lot.

I looked around for a second before stepping back into the bar, wondering how in the hell I even ended up here.





Georgia

Shit shit shit.

I kicked the door to the back room open, thankful for the faulty latch. I needed to kick something. I took comfort in slamming the door behind me, but someone stopped it. I kind of wanted it to be CJ, so I could kick his ass.

But, almost worse, it was Hippie Barbie and her merry band of judgmental facial expressions.

“Get the hell out of here,” I snapped as I retreated to the far corner of the room.

Ember looked over her shoulder, letting Lissa in before she closed and locked the door behind her with the chain. “Um, no, I won’t get the hell out of here. Are you okay?”

Her voice was as sing-song-y as it was on stage, but I could barely hear it as I remembered the way she’d looked at me when I came out of the back room with CJ before their set.

“Yeah,” Lissa interrupted, “holy f*ck, Georgia, what the hell was all of that about?” Her words shook like the muscles in my legs.