I slam my drumsticks against the snare, listening to the deep ricochet. My sticks rattle over the worn centre, bouncing up and back down again with every flick of my wrists.
I’m sweating. Drenched to the freaking skin.
My wife beater sticks to my chest and I stop for only a second to pluck it away before I dive in again.
My music is chaos.
Just like my freaking head.
The noise bounces around the garage. Perfectly clamoring.
Drumming isn’t that complicated.
That’s why I love it.
The music pours out of me without the need for chords or fingers mashing against brutal nylon strings stretched to the point of snapping. With one boom, I set the rhythm, the pace, form the pulse of any song.
I don’t want darkness.
Miss Jamieson’s voice is still in my head, no matter how much noise I make.
Even if it hurts, I want to live in the light.
The freaking light.
It’s my freaking nightmare.
I heard exactly what she was saying. No matter how hard I try, no matter how drawn we are to each other, the two of us can never exist outside of the darkness.
So what?
Where the hell does that leave me?
The only choice I have is to move on, but I can’t do that. I’ve tried so many times and I keep coming back to her. She’s ingrained in my skin. An itch I can’t scratch. A craving that suspends into infinity.
It pisses me off.
So naturally, I want to piss her off too.
My fingers tighten around my sticks and I lean over the drums, beating out a staccato rhythm.
Trapped in the coffin, she clung to me and this inescapable feeling settled over my chest. Like she was a puzzle piece snapping in place. Like maybe she was destined to be in my life and tear it up—for better or worse.
Grace Freaking Jamieson.
Tiger.
My teacher.
My step-sister.
My freaking obsession.
I wish we’d never met.
And I wish she was better at hiding her feelings.
She doesn’t hate me.
Damn, I wish she did.
That would make this a little easier.
She says one thing with her mouth, but those pretty eyes beg for me to bend her over the teacher’s desk and show her what inappropriate behaviour really is.
It’s impossible to move on when she pushes and pulls like that.
My calves are burning. Slamming my foot against the pedal, I crash my sticks into the cymbals. The gold plates vibrate and suspend the sound.
Two shadows slip into the garage.
I stop, both sticks raised in mid-air. My foot leaves the pedal and I quickly clip the cymbals between my thumb and forefinger, killing the metallic resonance.
Dutch drags his guitar over his head with practiced ease. His eyes—hazel mirrors of mine—flash on me. “Keep going like that and you’re going to need a new snare.”
“The music store keeps extra just for him,” Finn says.
I stare at my brothers. “What are you doing here?”
“We heard your cry for help from across town.” Dutch nods at my drum set.
I frown at him.
He strums his guitar. A throaty C chord rings through the amp. “I wanted to get an update on the funeral arrangements. Cadey kept asking me.”
“You haven’t told her I’m the one planning it?”
Dutch glowers.
I scoff and run a hand through my wet hair. Sweat droplets fling all over my set. “Am I that freaking unreliable?”
My brother is wise enough not to answer that.
Finn eyes me. “You been drinking?”
“No,” I snap.
Dutch plays an intricate melody on the low notes. Neck craned toward his guitar, he asks casually. “Who did you take to the funeral parlor today?”
I stiffen.
“On the phone, you said ‘us’. Meaning there was more than just you.”
I glance away.
Finn notices. “You were with Miss Jamieson.”
I flip him off.
A wrinkle forms between Dutch’s eyes. “I thought she was still dodging you. How did you get her to go?”
“I asked.”
“Please and thank you?”
“Something along those lines.”
“Huh.” Finn looks intrigued.
“Are we practicing or gossiping here?” I point a stick at Dutch. “Don’t you have to hurry back to your wife?”
“Cadey’s spending the night at Breeze’s.”
“She’s been kidnapped,” Finn says dryly.
“Breeze is the best friend who hates you, right?” I smirk at Dutch. “How did she react when she heard you and Cadey got married?”
Dutch glares into the distance.
By that expression, I’m guessing Breeze didn’t take it well. The blond is loud and feisty where Cadence is quiet and stubborn. I bet she raked both Dutch and Cadey through the coals.
“We’re talking about you, not me,” Dutch growls. “Don’t change the subject. This thing with Miss Jamieson is important.”
“He’s right,” Finn says. “You’re on Jinx’s radar now.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll pay her off.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” Finn asks.
“If she had solid evidence, she would have posted more details.”
“It’s enough that she’s hinting at it,” Finn says. “People are going to talk. It might end up badly for her.”
“I’m more concerned about dad using this as ammunition,” Dutch adds. He grips the neck of the guitar and gestures toward me. “Now that I’m so close to qualifying for the inheritance, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
A silent chill fills the air.
I’m still convinced dad had something to do with Cadence’s mother being dead. After my stint in the coffin, the thought of murder is ten times more unsettling.
“Honestly…” Dutch hesitates.
“What?”
“I’m concerned about whether this city is safe for Cadence and Vi.”
I go deadly sober.
Finn whips his bass over his head and grips it in a tight fist.
“Are you saying… that you’ll move?” I croak.
My twin rubs his chin. “I’m just thinking.”
Finn roughly drops his bass in the stand.
I shoot to my feet. “You gotta be freaking kidding me.”
Dutch slips out of his guitar strap and sets the electric away. “Don’t overreact. Like I said. It’s just a thought.” He takes out his phone. “I have to pick up Vi from her after-school class. Text me the details for the funeral. I’ll let Cadey know.”
I grit my teeth, saying nothing.
Dutch stalks out of the garage.
In the silence, I glance at Finn. He stares me down with those dark brown eyes that seem to see everything. I swear, my brother is creepily stoic. It’s near impossible to tell what he’s thinking in a given moment.
“Am I the only one who thinks that Dutch leaving means dad wins?” I say.
Finn folds his arms over his chest. “He’s got a valid point. There’s no way to keep Cadey and Vi safe if he stays.”
“And you think dad can’t hurt them if they’re overseas?” I scoff. “He’s safer with us.”
“That decision is up to Dutch.”
My eyebrows tighten like angry slashes over my eyes. “Now is not the time to be such a freaking Finn. Dutch just talked about moving away from our city. Did you hear that? If he goes, everything changes. Our band. Our lives. Us.”
He juts his chin at me. “Maybe some change will be good for us all.”
I watch my brother leave the garage, as emotionless and cold as a freaking pillar.
Emotions bubble in my chest.
I can’t contain them. Not like Finn.
Stomping over to the fridge, I rip the door open and yank out a beer. Cracking the lid, I guzzle the contents and grab for another.
My world is descending into havoc and I have no control, no way to stop it.
I need to get out of my head tonight.
Grabbing my phone, I dial a number and a girl’s purring voice picks up.
I grab my motorcycle keys, growling, “Meet me at the ridge. Make sure your clothes are off when I get there.”
Jinx: Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, who’s the deadliest of them all?
Snare King was spotted outside a funeral parlor after school today. Check out the photo his fans uploaded online. Inquiring minds want to know, is he buying his own coffin or someone else’s?
Until the next post, keep your enemies close and your secrets even closer.
– Jinx
