Part 45 (1/2)

Steven opened his mouth to retort but, after one glance at my eyes, he closed it again quickly.

”So you showed her this, then.”

Steven nodded.

”And you made up some bulls.h.i.+t to make her go away?”

”It wasn't bulls.h.i.+t, Trent. What makes this girl different? You left her here the first chance you got. No money, no friends, and a backpack full of clothes. Leaving was her choice. All I did was lay out the facts.”

”The facts?”

”Everything I told her was true. You can believe that I filled her head with complete s.h.i.+t, but my job is to keep this train moving.”

”My girlfriend isn't some piece of dead weight to be cut loose,” I growled menacingly, advancing upon him.

I was so furious that I hadn't even realized the Freudian slip.

”Well, you have your professional opinions, and I have mine,” Steven snarled with a slight hiss of pain. ”All I know is, I did my job. You know, you've been a hock of s.h.i.+t since day f.u.c.king one. Always making s.h.i.+t difficult. You're a real piece of work, Trent Masters. This is the worst f.u.c.king gig I've had in years! And I represented The Spitting Pigs, drug-fueled orgies and all!”

I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close, one last time.

”Steven...where is she.”

”I don't know.”

”Wrong answer,” I replied, wheeling my fist back.

”No! No! Wait!”

He feared for his life now.

”What?”

”Seriously! I don't know! She wouldn't tell me! She wouldn't even let me see the ticket! I just gave her some cash. I have no idea where she is!”

”Think,” I commanded.

Steven held up his hands.

”I don't know! She never said!”

My fist trembled. It was ready to strike.

He called out in fear: ”It's not just me!”

I paused, letting that sink in.

”...What.”

”I mean. It wasn't my idea!”

I hesitated furiously.

”You'd better start talking, and now.”

”Waylon and Dylan, it was their idea. Waylon's been p.i.s.sed every since you brought the b.i.t.c.h into the bus. They're already talking about replacing you. I'm doing you a f.u.c.king favor, Trent.”

He looked so absolutely fearful that I couldn't help but believe him...and that only made me angrier. He saw the venom in my eyes and recoiled in terror, his hands up.

”Wh-wh-what are you doing?”

”Taking out the trash,” I smiled evilly.

After roughing him up across my living room and knocking him out, I carried him outside over my shoulder. I strolled over towards the line of trash bins outside, contemplating throwing him into them as one last f.u.c.k you.

Nah.

No reason to p.i.s.s off the garbage crew.

Instead, I tossed him to the curb and told him to get the f.u.c.k out of here. Brus.h.i.+ng my hands, I pulled out my phone.

There were some calls to make.

I needed a plane and a car.

There was only one lead to follow.

I hoped with all my heart that it would be enough to track her down.

26.

Angel At least half a day before Trent would be back home, I was already back out of the bus and quietly, miserably waiting at my destination.

And that life, as I knew it, was long gone.

I only had to wait at the bus station for about two hours before Mom showed up, pulling up in her battered, ancient sedan. It wasn't surprising to me to see that it was still marked with dings, dents, and a crumpled backseat door.

”Angel! Good lord, girl, I thought I'd never see you again!”

Proudly boasting ratty, unkempt hair and loud makeup choices, Mom gave me an awkward car hug as I climbed into the pa.s.senger seat.

”Where have you been all this time?” She suddenly demanded to know.

”I think I was staying...with a friend, or something,” I told her reluctantly. ”Nowhere near here. The last little while, I've been living with...well, I guess it's not really important.”

”I see,” she nodded, kicking us into reverse and peeling out from the bus station. ”All that really matters is that you're back now. G.o.d, Angel, I was so worried about you these last years, I had no idea if you were dead or alive...”