“That’s not the same thing.”
“Still true.”
He shakes his head and hops down. “Come on.”
“We—”
A horn starts blaring right then, gathering the attention of all the homeless people the abandoned buildings wall.
I turn to find a black SUV jammin’ down the road.
With a laugh, I shake my head. “’Course.” I step ahead of Maddoc and spin to face him as I walk backward. “Where one goes, the others follow.”
“Nothing wrong with having people in your corner, Raven.”
“Sure there is.”
“Why’s that?”
“If your corner’s already empty, no chance of losing anything along the way.”
His shoulders straighten a bit. “Fear’s not your style.”
I don’t respond because he’s as right as he is wrong with that one. Fear isn’t my style. I don’t show it, fight not to feel it, but at the end of the day, fear is the very thing that keeps me up at night.
I slide in the SUV where the guys are jamming out to Lynyrd Skynyrd, so I lean across the seats and crank it up more.
Maddoc slides in beside me but doesn’t move any closer.
We all bob to the music the entire way home.
That night, sleep never comes.
And neither does Maddoc.“Rumor’s true?”
I prop against the fence, looking over the empty field. “Depends which one you’re referring to.”
Bass scoffs. “You ain’t lyin’. There’s at least a couple dozen floating around now.”
“At least.”
He looks to me, blowing his smoke right in my face. “You really staying with them?”
“I am.” I eye him. “But you know that already, don’t you? Bet they made you aware right away, even asked you to keep me off the cards?”
“They didn’t ask me shit, Carver.” His stare hardens and I sigh.
Right, they didn’t ask. They demanded.
“What’d they say?”
“Come on now, you know how this shit works.”
I nod. “No singers.”
“No fucking singers, Rae.”
Fuck.
I snag his cigarette from his hand and take a drag, dropping my head back. I blow the smoke into the sky, then look to him. “Guess there’s no chance you’ll add me on then, huh?”
He snags his cigarette back and takes the last drag before smooshing it under his foot. He walks off.
“See you around, Carver.”
I follow his form and just when he curves around the corner, I lock eyes with Maddoc in the distance. He stares this way with his sunglasses in place.
I walk to him.
“What’d he want?”
“Nothing.” I lean my shoulder against the wall. “I approached him.”
“Why?”
“Don’t play dumb, big man.”
“You have no need to fight.”
“You have no idea what I need.”
He crowds my space and my body turns against the wall. “Wrong.” His fingers slide inside my open jacket and skim down my side.
When my body shivers, he pushes closer, whispering, “I know exactly what you need, and I guarantee you won’t find it with some G-Eazy wannabe.”
“I happen to love me some G-Eazy,” I tease. “And Bass’ lip ring does something for me.”
“Yeah?” he growls. “Well then a dick ring will really set you off.” When my lips part he steps back, licking his. “Stay away from him, Snow.”
And then he’s gone, but I barely register his retreat, because I’m too busy replaying the sight of him in his boxers, trying to figure out if he’s kidding about dick jewelry or not. I know I didn’t feel it on me when we laid together in bed.
When the bell rings I jolt, shaking myself from my Maddick fog and make my way back into the cafeteria.
The rest of the day passes with a blur and then it’s time for the boys to practice.
I post up on the bleachers as they move to the courts.
Royce runs over and tosses me his hoodie and glasses. “Put that under your head.”
“Thanks. Hey!” I shout and he turns back, nodding his chin. “Why this old court, why not the fancy gym or at the house?”
“It’s real out here.” He shrugs. “This is home.”
When I grin, he winks and runs off.
I’m betting Maybell has a lot to do with this side of these guys, the home-grown side. I know they have money, but they don’t live like they do as far as their person. They don’t eat at steakhouses or yacht clubs like I assume ritzy people do but make dinners in their own kitchens instead. They use an old beat up court because it’s more comfortable than a half a million dollar one built just for them – I saw the plaque on the wall. I know their dad had it built it in the Brayshaw name just in time for their freshman year. They don’t walk around with their noses in the air, but their shoulders are wide, and heads still held high. If I saw them walking down my streets with the athletic gear they’ve got on right now, I’d swear they belonged.
I stuff the hoodie over my head and slip his shades on, so I can comfortably enjoy Maddoc commanding the show.