The next corner was more of the same, only this time a group of them were working together to keep me away. Dammit, I should’ve arrived earlier, even if that meant I had to sit around for a while or play much longer. I knew better. Every musician would be out in force tonight. Earning potential was never better than when big-name artists were inside the stadium performing. And it didn’t get much bigger than Jake McKallister. I was sure his fans in particular would appreciate my unusual party trick, and that would translate into a windfall for me.
The goal was always to make enough to rent a room for the night at some sketchy skid row motel, a place where the addicts went to die. Motels were hit and miss. Technically, to rent a room, I needed an ID to prove my age. Without it, I had to rely on a pocket full of green to persuade the managers to relax their rules. God, I hoped they would tonight. I really needed a respite from the streets, a place to wash off the grime of the city and to sleep with both eyes shut.
With that goal in mind, I kept pounding the pavement and scanning the perimeter, but it seemed like all the premium performance sites adjacent to the arena had been taken. Until I saw it. Way down the street, one golden nugget of land, an outcrop of sidewalk on the main pedestrian thoroughfare, and it looked to still be available. This was a huge score. I sped up, my eye on the concrete prize.
Entirely too preoccupied, I failed to see the brick wall with feet and a letterman’s jacket standing in my way. We collided with a heavy thud.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” the jock blasted, shoving me aside.
The front-loaded buckets dangling around my neck nearly toppled me over. What the…? Why the manhandling? So fucking unnecessary.
Too bad for him, I didn’t take my orders from a privileged frat boy. I pushed right back. “Well, then maybe don’t block the sidewalk, dickwad.”
He sneered, puffing his chest out. “Maybe take a shower, vermin.”
A moment of uncompromising silence settled between us before the girl beside him grabbed his arm forcefully to pull him away. His large frame didn’t budge, causing her to ricochet back like she was in a real-life Wile E. Coyote cartoon. I would’ve laughed had I not been so incensed.
Her eyes flared. “Stop being a jerk, Hudson!”
“A jerk?” He jolted his head in her direction. “How I am I a jerk for not wanting to catch whatever disease he’s carrying?”
The girl huffed her disapproval. “If you don’t know the answer to that, then no one ever taught you manners.”
The dude’s fists hardened into knots. Ah, shit. I’d seen this show enough times to know it wasn’t going to end well for the girl. My defensive instincts kicked in. Reaching for her arm, I pulled her away. She seemed stunned when she was suddenly behind my Gumby-like body, like it had never occurred to her that she might be in danger.
“Did you just touch her?” the dude growled, advancing on me.
I sighed, knowing the routine and readying my fists. Dammit. What the hell did I do that for? This totally went against two of my steadfast rules on street living. One, walk—no, run—away whenever possible, and two, never insert myself into a fight that wasn’t mine. Now I was going to have to drum with a broken nose, all because I’d gotten into the middle of a domestic dispute between two entitled richies.
“Don’t you dare,” the girl said, fearlessly advancing from behind me and shoving her boyfriend back. “If you touch him, you can find another way into the concert.”
Whoa. Damn. I couldn’t have been more shocked by the turn of events if I’d tried. This feminine whiff of fresh air had just defended my honor. Me. The vermin. Well, shit. That was hot. Her boyfriend appeared as stunned as me, offering no protest as she led him away. I watched her go, admiring the uptown girl’s spunk… and her ass. Just as I was about to go claim my little piece of land, she whipped her head around and zeroed in on me like I was the target for her missile attack. I wasn’t sure what to do. Us vermin didn’t get a ton of eye contact from girls in Lululemon leggings, if you know what I mean. But things went from uncomfortable to flat-out bizarre when the girl’s eyes widened in what could only be interpreted as a sign of recognition.
Wait. What? I blinked.
Clearly this girl was mistaken because there was no chance in hell she knew me. We weren’t just from the other side of the tracks; we were on different halves of the urban equator. I raised my brows and challenged her recognition. Only instead of her backing down, those sunny blue eyes of hers clouded over with a hazy layer of sadness.
Again. What the actual fuck?
The girl ultimately broke contact, grabbing her tree trunk of a boyfriend and steering him away. I stood there dumbfounded, my uber-cool five-gallon paint buckets hanging there limply around my neck like the world’s worst wingman. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Something supernatural had just happened between us, something I couldn’t explain.
I watched her walk straight over to the VIP entrance like she owned the place. How did that not surprise me? It certainly answered one of my burning questions. I was definitely not suffering from a severe case of amnesia because no old acquaintance of mine would ever be let through the concierge doors of a Jake McKallister concert.
The arena staff waved her in, and just before disappearing inside, the girl turned her head and looked back at me. I blinked. I swallowed. I flushed. What the hell did she see? Why was she acting like she knew me? The hair on my skin prickled. Did she have her own boy in the mirror? No, it couldn’t be. She was too pretty and polished. Too valuable and virtuous. No way had the hunters gotten to her too.
If they had, she’d be just as messed up as me.
6
GRACE: NEPO SISTER
“Grace?” Hudson snapped his fingers in my face. “Hello? Are you listening to me?”
I’d heard him all right, but he was throwing a lot at me in one go. I was still processing the whole sidewalk horror show, where he’d called some unsuspecting stranger vermin, and now this. These popular kids really didn’t understand the concept of subtlety. Even my brother Kyle, who arguably had very little going on in that shaggy-haired head of his, knew enough to sugarcoat information that might require a hard landing. How exactly was I expected to respond to Hudson’s request? I knew how I wanted to respond—with a swift karate chop to his nuts— but then how would that make me any different than him and the fistfight he’d tried to instigate outside?
But this.
Hudson had just asked if I wanted in on the ground level of a three’s-a-crowd type throuple. The players? Hudson. Me. And obnoxiously beautiful homecoming queen Mia. But Hudson and I were on a date, right? Granted, I was no expert, but I was under the impression that a date implied two people. Alone together.
