“Her name was fucking Amanda, and she woke up in that shit hole apartment we were all sharing without any clue as to how she got there or why she was…” He pauses to swallow, his voice hoarse, and Andi grips his hand.
“She was so scared, and I remember Rad making a fucking joke about it—calling her a drunk slut, and saying she should remember the dick she sucked, and I fuckinglost it.”
“I thought Rad was dead when Reed and I got back from breakfast,” Zeb says.
“He should’ve been,” Mads goes on. “We didn’t have any proof that Rad was fucking with girls until that morning. The three of us got a new apartment together and started trying to find a replacement while he was in the hospital, but no one… No one felt right. That last show was the first one we had back after he recovered. We didn’t want to play, except fucking Avie was supposed to be at that gig, and we couldn’t pass up the chanceof getting seen by Death Tower. We were going to find a new person before signing anything. We just needed a chance.” Mads peers my way. “And then, you jumped onstage.”
“Thank fuck for that,” Andi says.
“Tell Rad we can’t do backstage,” Zeb suggests.
“Better yet, justdon’t text him back,” Andi says pointedly to Reed.
“He’ll go public and say we’re ignoring him if I do that,” Reed says.
“Let him. Fuck that guy,” Mads grunts. “If he says something, we’ll out him. I’m not keeping his fucking secrets anymore. It’s not like I’m holding out just so he doesn’t rat out my identity anymore. He has one chance now. We’re done.”
“Just say ‘Maybe we’ll see you there,’” Zeb says to Reed. “Leave it at that. Don’t make any plans for him.”
“I’ll be walking the other way if he shows up,” Mads replies.
“I don’t want him coming nearanyof you without me around,” Gemma says sternly.
The five of us pause, heads turning in her direction at the absolution in her tone. She’s standing at the front of the long end of the sectional now, arms folded over her chest, and the beautiful, yet angry, expression on her face makes me gulp.
“How do you know about Rad?” Zeb asks.
Her mouth twists slightly. “I knowplentyabout Radlee Cutrelle,” she says, the name spitting from her mouth as if it’s garbage. “Probably more than you do.”
“Such as?” Mads asks.
“Such as… He still used the band’s name for a year after leaving to get women into bed with him, and within that same year, he would post videos talking shit about all of you. Nearly doxxing you,” she says with a nod at Mads, “though, I’m assuming now that the only reason he didn’t was because hethought you might murder him instead of just kicking his ass. Or that you might tell people about that girl.”
“I had a friend,” Mads says, meeting Gemma’s eyes. “It’s not in your report because nothing exists. But I had a friend who… knew things.”
“Dude, are you talking about Hal?” Reed asks.
Mads nods.
“Oh shit,” Zeb says, brows raised. “That guy was fucking terrifying.”
“Didn’t stop you from starting shit with him,” Mads mumbles, side-eyeing Zeb. “I was lucky he even talked to me after the crap that went down between you two.”
Zeb scratches the back of his neck, though he doesn’t say anything more.
“Who is Hal?” I ask.
“Someone I met in jail freshman year,” Mads replies, avoiding everyone’s eyes. “He was released and went to a few shows that first year, and I knew if I needed something… He was my insurance. He dug up some other dirt on Rad, something about some guys he had seen Rad with that he knew weren’t entirely wholesome.”
“Did he ever say who?” Gemma asks.
Mads shakes his head. “All he would ever tell me was that I never had to worry about Rad telling anyone who I was because of it.”
“Where is Hal now?” Gemma asks.
“He died a few years back. When we were signed to Death Tower, I also went to their legal department. I told them everything about my past, my dad. Everything about Rad just so they would have the entire picture. I didn’t want us to lose our deal because of my past.”
“You didn’t tell us that,” Zeb says.
