When I don’t respond, he lets out a heavy exhale. “You can’t run away from reality forever, Riot. It’s not… this self-destructive behavior won’t bring him back?—”
“Thanks for the advice.” I turn on my heel, slamming the glass onto his desk. “I hate to cut this heartfelt conversation short, but I really have to take a piss. I’ll talk to you… later, I guess.”
I make it to the doorway before his voice breaks out again, causing me to pause.
“Riot?”
My hand freezes on the doorknob. “Yes?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. Deep down, I know he’s not going to say what he really wants, and I’m not sure if the rush of warmth flowing through my limbs is due to relief or anguish. But I can’t tell him that. I can’t tell anyone that.
“The details for your community service and hotel stay are in your inbox. I’ll send a driver to pick you up.”
“I can drive my motorcycle. There’s no need.”
He huffs. “I’ll have the bike shipped to you. I don’t want you dying on the way there.”
Wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.
“Fine. Okay.” I take one step out the door before his voice stops me again.
“Riot?”
I sigh, not bothering to turn and look at him. “Yes, Enzo?”
“It’s going to be okay. Can you trust me when I tell you that?”
My back stiffens, and I’m surprised to find my eyes welling with foreign moisture.“Sure. See you in six months.”
I leave, slamming the door behind me. Even though he says it will, I know it’s not going to be fucking okay.Becausenothingis okay.
Nothing ever will be again.
2
Riot
3 weeks later…
“Mother trucker turtle fucker!”
Jane’s face reddens with thinly veiled anger as she tries to position her too-small hands around the F major chord. She’s only nine, and I doubt her mother would approve of her colorful vocabulary, so I thank God it’s not my problem.
“You’ll get it eventually. Have you been doing your hand exercises?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Jane purses her lips, her brows meeting in a slight frown. “Maybe…”
I roll my eyes. “Well, there’s half your problem. You’re trying to advance faster than you’re willing to put in the work.”
Jane’s frown deepens to a scowl. “Nuh-uh.”
“Yes-huh.” I lean back with my arms crossed, giving her my no-nonsense stare. “I know. I was your age once, learning the same things. I know how much it sucks, but you have to do it.”
Her expression crumples, and I give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “The good news is, it gets better. Just keep working at it, and you’ll be a pro in no time.”
She looks down at her hand, her chin wobbling with a sudden wave of emotion. “Mom says if I don’t get better soon, she’ll pull me out and put me in ballet. She doesn’t like the noise.” Jane turns to face me, tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’twantto do ballet, Mr. Riot. I want to play guitar in a band like you do.”
Ah, shit.I look at her crestfallen expression, my chest squeezing with sympathy.Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved…
