Marlowe’s eyes get shiny, and I feel like a dick. But she knows I’m in a fucking relationship. She’s either vying for me to dump Rory or cheat on her, neither of which are options.
Or maybe she just wants to sell tickets and doesn’t give a shit about me, which is honestly the best option. I don’t need her to care about me. So I feign a smile and turn toward our fans, who are waiting to talk to us a few feet away from behind the VIP ropes. Fine. Let’s sell this. “Who’s seen Marlowe’s show? It’s awesome, right?”
Everyone starts talking at once, and Marlowe finally gets off my fucking lap so she can be the center of attention.
And I sneak out before anyone can tell me I shouldn’t.
The bus is dark and quiet when I make it back. As I climb the stairs, I whip off my baseball cap and wipe the rain and sweat from my face. Inside, the only sound is the rain and the hum of the AC.
I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna tell Rory, how I’m gonna explain what happened at the show.
And I may know fuck all about relationships, but I see how my brothers hash things out with their women, Rhett and Paige in particular. Mav’s more easygoing and Beau’s loopy in love with Honey, but Rhett’s grumpier and he makes more mistakes. The man apologizes a lot.
I guess that’s where I need to start. With an apology.
As I walk by security, I hold up my hand. “Did the girls get in okay?”
Edmond’s wearing a fierce frown. “Listen. Uh, something… something happened.”
I freeze mid-step. “What do you mean? Are Rory and Layla okay?” I glance down the hall, but the door’s shut.
“I swear I wouldn’t have given it to her if I had known.” Given what? To who?
“Tell me everything, but first, are my girls okay?” I barely breathe as I wait for his response.
“Yeah. They’re good.”
Relieved, I stagger toward the couch and sit. “Tell me what happened.”
“A girl stopped me earlier. She said she had a delivery for Rory. You know Rory’s made a few friends on the tour, and I thought it was from one of those nice groupies.”
A gift from a groupie? I don’t like where this is going. “Show me the delivery.”
He points to the kitchen table. To a brown paper bag. On the other side of the bag, there’s a book lying on the table.
Anyone who knows Rory knows she likes to read. “Okay. And?”
“It’s about a stalker. Some woman who goes after girls who cheated with her boyfriend or husband. I don’t know, really.”
Weird, but I’m not into thrillers. “Did Rory not like the gift?” Because I’m confused.
He hangs his head a second, then grabs the paperback and starts flipping. Holds it open to a page that’s been marked up with a giant red pen.
When I read the letter that’s been circled, I clench my jaw. “Who the fuck dropped this off?”
“I don’t know, just some girl. I’ve never seen her before. But Jace? There’s more than the book.” He points to the grocery sack where there’s a Ziploc bag.
I flip the sack over and dump it on the table.
What the hell am I looking at? There’s a photo in the bag, but it’s hard to tell because there’s red liquid and food. Maybe fruit.
When I realize I’m looking at a photo of Rory, I stop breathing.
It all clicks together at the same time. It’s a photo of Rory earlier in the summer. At Daytona maybe.
And the reason I can’t see it well is because it’s sitting in a baggie of smashed cherries.
As I stare at the creepy gift, I feel like I’m in one of those long shots inJawswhen the camera zooms in. Like I’m Chief Brody staring at the beach when the shark attacks.
